(This essay was originally published on Spotify.)

To those in the business of digital media and entertainment, Combat Jack—known to his inner circle as Reggie Ossé—was often seen as a mythological figure; a deity of sorts who was not only instrumental to the rise of the Roc-A-Fella and Bad Boy Records empires, but also forged his own podcast network, the Loud Speakers Network.

For podcasters of color, Loud Speakers—with its robust roster of popular shows that includes the Charlamagne tha God-helmed The Brilliant Idiots, Van Lathan’s The Red Pill, and the cultural phenomenon known as The Read—is much more than the mecca. Its inception ushered in a new era of black and brown voices demanding agency in a heavily white-dominated medium, and served as the catalyst for many crusades into digital media. But for all its acclaim, influence, and fanfare, it wouldn’t exist without its crown jewel, The Combat Jack Show, which delved into the triumphs and tribulations of hip-hop’s most intriguing and impactful personas.

The Accidental Podcaster

“Reggie never really had any designs on getting into podcasting,” says Matt Nelson, senior producer at Gimlet and Ossé’s co-conspirator on Mogul, hip-hop’s first narrative storytelling podcast. “He didn’t really know what a podcast was.”

After spending the ‘90s and early 2000s as an entertainment attorney for JAY Z, Diddy, and other major artists, Ossé dabbled in blogging before eventually making his mark in internet radio with the groundbreaking Combat Jack Show, which blended Howard Stern’s lively ensemble approach with hip-hop’s flair and fervor. But when building renovations derailed his studio access, he put out the word on Twitter that if Combat Jack was to continue, he was gonna need a little help. Enter Loud Speakers’ eventual cofounder, Chris Morrow.

“Chris popped up and basically said [to Ossé], ‘You know I can give you an hour and a studio,’” Jonathan Mena, executive producer at Loud Speakers, says. “Because [Morrow] was working for a radio company at the time.”

Sure, it required recording after hours and deploying other guerilla tactics, but the new studio was a significant upgrade from their previous headquarters. It was readily available and—most importantly—free. Morrow also had access to top-tier sound engineers, which gave Ossé a significant advantage in sound quality over many of his competitors.

Bigger Ideas

Morrow saw beyond just a single show. He envisioned an entire network brimming with thought-provoking opinions and diverse voices that were urgently needed in a blossoming medium where neither felt welcome. So the motley crew—comprised of Mena, Morrow, executive producer A-King, writer and editor Matt Raz, Ossé, and others—got to work. And on June 1, 2013, the dream officially became a reality on the strength of a $500 budget.

The Loud Speakers Network’s initial rollout consisted of quirky Fan Bros—since rebranded as the For All Nerds Show—the self-proclaimed “voice of the urban geek”; Sneaker Fiends, helmed by The Combat Jack Show alums Dallas Pen and Premium Pete; and Reality Check, co-hosted by writer JasFly and NY Delight, which among other things is notable for bringing the celebrated and distinct voice of Kid Fury into the Loud Speakers network.

“What made the Loud Speakers Network so groundbreaking was that it was nothing like anything that existed before,” Shanita Hubbard, educator and author of the forthcoming book Miseducation: A Woman’s Guide to Hip-Hop, says. “It was a complete game-changer. We had never seen or heard from so many podcasters who looked and sounded like us, and shows like The Combat Jack Show and The Read inspired millions of other black and brown creators to join the revolution and discover their own voices.

“The podcast industry is only as diverse and inclusive as it is today because of the barriers that Combat Jack and the Loud Speakers Network tore down,” Hubbard adds. “Someone had to be first, and they never get their due as pioneers.”

Boosting the Signal

Another often-overlooked fact is the role that The Combat Jack Show and other Loud Speakers Network creations played in legitimizing podcasting as an entertainment medium. Their tremendous influence and popularity proved there was a viable audience for authentic, hip-hop-influenced content outside of radio. Ossé created a blueprint that spiritual successors like The Joe Budden Podcast, Questlove Supreme, and Drink Champs would later emulate.

“Reggie’s impact is undeniable,” A-King says. “If you’re in podcasting, it’s your responsibility to acknowledge that.”

On a wide scope, remnants of Loud Speakers Network DNA exist in many shows that are currently being produced. The network developed a signature conversational tone and a wealth of segments that address everything from wellness to comic books to fan mail, exploring the full breadth of people of color and debunking assumptions that black and brown people are a monolith. In doing all that, the network has provided other podcasters with potent examples of popular topics and forums, and specific playbooks for how to actively engage with a community of listeners who are otherwise often overlooked.

Ossé deserves credit for a lot of that. “Combat Jack is the godfather of hip-hop podcasting. That’s not an opinion, it’s facts,” Morrow says. “His impact on the medium was immeasurable. He set the tone for all hip-hop podcasts to come by insisting on only putting out authentic, organic content. Then once he’d helped elevate those sorts of conversations, he used Mogul to prove that highly produced, scripted podcasts could work in the space as well. Every hip-hop podcaster owes an enormous debt to him.”

And Ossé’s brilliance extended far beyond just podcasting. “Combat Jack’s influence transcended the podcast world. He challenged me to think differently about methods and vehicles of storytelling,” Hubbard said. “I’m forever grateful to him for teaching me that lesson.”

And though he succumbed to colon cancer on December 20, 2017, the legacy of Combat Jack lives on in the various shows he created and influenced throughout his incomparable career.

Additional Reading: An Ode to Combat Jack, One of My Heroes

It’s not exactly a secret that the only thing in worse shape than our economy is that orange idiot’s sanity, but it’s been particularly gruesome for those of us in entertainment and media.

It seems like every other day, another round of layoffs, budget cuts, or mergers is announced, and with them comes a deluge of stress, anxiety, and uncertainty for hard-working creatives throughout Hollywood and beyond.

This is part of the reason it’s so important that we as creatives remain vigilant about preserving our mental health, and why—as someone who consumes at least 20mg of Lexapro on a daily basis—I’m grateful to organizations like Three’s A Crowd, the Los Angeles County Department of Mental Health, and the Take Action Los Angeles Initiative for seeing our struggles and being proactive in helping us to address them.

On Saturday, they held Creative Reset, a free mental health event in Inglewood, in which creatives were invited to partake in a “museum-style wellness experience.” This consisted of approximately seven or eight wellness activations throughout their studio, with each designed to “help participants slow down, reflect, and reconnect.”

And because I don’t play about my mental health or wellness, these were some of my favorites (each was led by an expert or facilitator on site):

• A movement station, where participants were taught how to stretch and encourage physical activity throughout our work days—because apparently my penchant for spending 12 hours at a time hunched over my laptop in my draws isn’t healthy

• A recovery and relaxation station, where a massage therapist was kind enough to remove approximately 37 knots from my back

• A sound bath station, where a symphony of singing bowls helped put my mind and nervous system at ease

• A financial therapist, who offered tools and guidance on managing financial stress and the emotional aspects of money, as well as how to navigate these perilous, overdraft-fee-ridden times

• A Postcard to Your Future Self station, where each of us was encouraged to write some words of encouragement “to the version of ourselves we’re becoming”—and each postcard will be mailed to us in six months

There were also stations focused on breathwork, food and nutrition—with snacks!—creative writing, and other opportunities to address mental health and wellness. And I loved the fact that it was truly a Choose Your Own Adventure experience, where you could participate in the activities that interested you and skip the ones that didn’t.

It was also a dope opportunity to find support, exchange resources, and build community with others affected by everything going on, since far too often we operate in complete isolation.

I tell people all the time: As creatives, we destroy ourselves for a living. Poor eating habits, inconsistent sleep, not staying on top of doctor appointments or treatments, minimal exercise, unpredictable work schedules, and you have to be a little off to see the world the way we do—then convey those impossibilities to an audience that doesn’t always appreciate or acknowledge your sacrifice.

This life is not for the weak, so shoutout to everyone involved in Creative Reset for providing creatives with an opportunity to properly address our mental health as a community during Mental Health Awareness Month.

And for every other creative fighting the good fight, please make sure you’re being proactive about your mental health and well-being as well.

Nothing about the COVID-19 pandemic was particularly fun. But while everyone else was terrified of a single cough—or toilet paper going extinct—my biggest struggle was the isolation.

Splitting rent with roommates is a foreign concept, so living alone was familiar territory. But as a social butterfly crammed back into his cocoon by a global quarantine, the only friends I had left were my thoughts and abandonment wounds.

They say an idle mind is the Devil’s playground, so when I wasn’t preoccupied with Clubhouse musicals or The Tiger King, I spent my afternoons climbing across those monkey bars—reflecting on the family who failed me and the scars they left behind.

After decades of pouring from an empty cup into a mother who felt far more filial than maternal, my survival instincts demanded distance. Which is why when my sister called to ask if our mom could expect to hear from me on Mother’s Day, a blunt response spilled out.

“Why would I do that?”

The entire purpose of Mother’s Day is to celebrate the women who’ve had a profound impact on our lives. To express gratitude for their guidance, honor their sacrifice, and relish their unyielding support. But since that sure as hell wasn’t my experience—quite the opposite, to be honest—I didn’t see the point in lying to either of us by handing out a consolation prize.

Nor would I pretend to.

In the following days, when my father—who became an afterthought after he cheated on my mom and discarded their marriage like a rotting carcass—got wind of this, apparently, he wasn’t happy.

That’s when a text came from a number I hadn’t seen in eternity.

“I hope Josh doesn’t have to do your job.”

Josh, of course, being my sister’s husband, with the implication being that the onus now fell on my brother-in-law to roll out the red carpet for Mother’s Day. If he wanted to shower my mom with flowers and brunch reservations, then more power to him. Keeping my distance was purely about protecting my peace, not about punishment or animosity.

But more importantly, whoooooooo did my father think he was talking to me like that?

I don’t know what would possess a man I had barely spoken to for decades to think he could confront me about my decision, but since when does audacity care for rationale?

My therapist and I had spent months unpacking why I prioritize everyone else’s needs over my own. How I became hyper-independent because I quite literally never received any guidance or support from the same parents who were supposed to protect me from the rest of the world.

As a result, I became the overly attentive, compassionate person I never had, but lost myself in the process. Always speaking up for everyone else, but never advocating for myself.

So as I sat there stewing inside, staring at that text, I realized that after a lifetime of letting things go—constantly being the bigger person for everyone else’s benefit but my own—that it was no longer worth it.

So my thumbs fired back.

“I know this isn’t the same guy who invited me to his wedding two weeks in advance.”

It was true.

Years prior, before the coronavirus hurled the world into despair, he hit me with a last-minute “Oh, by the way!” invitation that just so happened to involve his third (or was it fourth?) marriage. But being a broke ass twenty-something at the time, a flight, a rental car, and a hotel on a whim wasn’t happening.

That wasn’t a problem for my sister, though—since she got her invite an entire year before mine.

It was a dick move on his part, and he knew it. So being reminded of something he thought I’d forgotten went exactly as you’d suspect.

“Then I guess I don’t have a son anymore,” he clapped back. “Have a nice life.”

I don’t think I’ve ever laughed harder in my entire life than when I saw that text.

Whoooooooooooooooooooooo, boy.

Can we get the obvious out the way?

Clearly, my decision to distance myself from my mom didn’t warrant being disowned. But in that moment, my hysterical laughter didn’t come from hurt—it came from his delusion. For him to think that he was depriving me of something—his guidance, his protection—when I hadn’t had access to anything but his apathy since I was a child was actually hilarious.

Genuinely laugh-out-loud funny.

And as someone whose parents have done a number on me, I can acknowledge we all have demons. But whatever he’s fighting internally wasn’t my responsibility to fix—and I honestly felt like he was doing me a favor.

After a lifetime of disappointment and deceit, neither of us had to pretend anymore.

“Then get the fuck on then,” I typed back. “You never were a father anyway.”

I blocked the number, then indulged in my favorite pastime: an edible.

Which brings me to Katt and Kevin.

On Sunday night, during the Roast of Kevin Hart—the grand finale of the weeklong Netflix Is a Joke festival—after ripping the Jumanji “actor” to shreds in front of millions, Katt and Kevin squashed their longstanding beef. Considering these dudes have seemingly been at war since In Living Color got canceled, the magnitude of the moment wasn’t lost on me—or the rest of the universe.

“Me and this man have been at odds for years and years,” Kevin told the crowd. “Katt, we have an opportunity in real time—this is live television—to put our fucking beef behind us. I am offering you an olive branch of peace. I want to be a brother. I want to be a friend, Katt.”

Then they hugged and will presumably live happily ever after.

But while everyone else was in awe of the two icons, setting aside their pride and ego in the spirit of forgiveness, I immediately thought of my father. The same father who randomly texted me a few days ago after more than six years of silence.

“I miss my son.”

I keep my ghosts in the past, so his anguish snuck into my Unknown Senders.

And it’ll remain there.

Before reconciliation can even begin with an apology—a nuisance he bypassed entirely—it starts with an assessment. And on the day he decided he no longer had a son, he lost the right to ever discard me again.

I can acknowledge a void, but I can’t miss a father I never had.

So while I’m happy for Kevin and Katt, and truly hope they’re able to build a fruitful relationship both personally and professionally, forgiveness is also about choosing yourself.

Not everyone deserves access to you.

While most 12-year-olds spend their mornings ducking chores or shoveling cereal into their faces, Juliano Valdi spends this particular morning buried beneath a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball cap, rattled by disbelief.

“You did?!” he asks.

“I sure did,” I respond.

Like millions of others in the digital diaspora, I, too, was mesmerized by the promising young actor dancing alongside co-stars Coleman Domingo and Jaafar Jackson in a viral clip—yes, that viral clip—from The Jennifer Hudson Show. The only difference is I have the luxury of telling Juliano just how widespread that video of his curls bouncing down the hallway has been. (29 million views and counting.)

The show’s “spirit tunnel” has blossomed into a pop culture phenomenon since its inception, and upon bringing it to Juliano’s attention, the former Nickelodeon star utters a prototypical, pre-teen response:

“That’s coooooooool.”

Since the release of the blockbuster biopic Michael, Juliano’s life has been turned completely upside down. Gone are the days of his undeniable star power being confined to small roles, as his full repertoire as a singer, actor, and performer has finally been unleashed on the big screen.

But while becoming the King of Pop has endeared him to a new audience, and all the trappings of fame that come with it, it’s abundantly clear he’s still just a regular kid at the end of the day—who has yet to fully comprehend how much his life is about to change.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Jay Connor: Yo, you’re poppin’ right now. How does it feel?

Juliano Valdi: It feels great! I’m really, really happy that I got this role—especially playing someone who I’ve looked up to for such a long time. It’s just an honor to be part of this film.

Saying “somebody you looked up to for such a long time” is wild considering you’re 12 years old. [Laughs]

I know! [Laughs] But I’ve looked up to Michael since I was like 5.

Well, that begs the question: How did you come across him at such a young age?

My grandmother showed me a video of “Smooth Criminal,” and I loved his dancing, his work ethic, and his singing. The way he makes music is really different from everybody else. That’s why he has the best-selling album of all time, with Thriller. Because he did something that no other artist could do—or thought of doing.

And now you’ve had the opportunity to help bring that to life on screen. What’s it been like to see the fans’ reactions to the movie? With people dressing up, dancing in the theaters?

It’s really awesome! How they dress up like Michael to really get in that spirit. I hope they enjoyed the movie. We worked really hard on it.

Looking at those box office numbers, I think it’s safe to say they enjoyed the movie. I remember you cuttin’ up at the premiere too, homie.

[Laughs] Thank you.

Now, you play Michael at a very pivotal stage of his career. Are there any similarities in who he was at that age and who you are now as an actor and performer?

We’re both really dedicated. You know how Michael was dedicated to perfecting his singing and dancing? I dedicated my life—and a lot of my time—to practicing his dance moves and how he moves his body. How he sings and talks. Everything like that. We have really similar work ethics, and we also like hanging out with our cousins. We love to play with our relatives. That’s something we have in common.

I love that answer because, obviously, a big part of Michael’s story is that he didn’t get to enjoy his childhood. And it sounds like—whether it’s you, whether it’s your family, whether it’s your team—you’re all collectively making an effort to ensure you don’t suffer a similar fate. What are some of your hobbies outside of acting and performing?

I like playing basketball.

Oh, that’s dope.

Yeah, I like playing video games. I like hanging out with my chickens, and, of course, hanging out with relatives: my aunt, my cousins—all of them.

Aiight, I have to ask because now I’m nosy: What did you name your chickens?

[Laughs] I have two pet chickens. So there’s a big one called Hazel—because they’re both girls—and the small one is Penny.

Shoutout to Hazel and Penny. I know they’re proud of you.

[Laughs] I hope so.

Now, as you’ve come to realize since Michael’s release, his fans are no joke. So how did you all ensure that your portrayal was as authentic as possible?

I trained day and night, working with Michael’s real choreographers. They helped me perfect all of his movements: the way he grabs the mic, and how he uses his hands during his performances. I also worked with a vocal coach. She actually sang with him on “Can You Feel It.” She was that high note. [Sings] “Can you feel it!”

Oh, wow.

Yeah, she helped me sound like Michael when he’s singing. And then on my own, I practiced getting his mannerisms down and how he talked regularly. So I really had some awesome people in my corner to help me perfect this role. And, of course, my family was there to support me as well.

Okay, now I gotta ask this because I was at the barber shop earlier and—

I see you got that fresh cut, huh?

I had to come correct for you, man.

[Laughs]

So when I walked in, they were talking about the movie and how great a job you did. But they were like, “Was that really him? I wonder if he can really sing.” I wasn’t having it. I told them I’d come straight to the source and ask.

It’s kind of complicated. When I was singing “Who’s Loving You,” when it was acapella? That was me singing. But when it was with the music, that was me and Michael’s voice. They made a bit of a mix, so it sounded like him but also like me. So nobody could tell. And on “I Want You Back,” at the beginning, where he’s like, [Sings] “Uh-huh, huh, huh!” That was me singing right there.

Okay, I had no idea. Because in some other biopics… Woody McClain killed it as Bobby Brown, but then we found out it was Leon Thomas singing. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but I love that you sang your own parts. You did your thing.

Thank you so much!

Now, even though you’re only 12, you’ve been in the game for a minute. Working on projects like Arco with Natalie Portman and Mark Ruffalo, The Loud House on Nickelodeon, etc. How did those previous roles help you prepare for this one?

They definitely encouraged me to work harder. I was focused and just wanted to make sure this was by far the best performance of my career.

You can’t get any bigger than Michael Jackson, so mission accomplished, my guy. Has your experience with this movie influenced the type of projects you want to do moving forward?

This project encourages me to work harder so that the next project can be even better than the last one. I hope to book more roles I like—maybe another biopic of Michael Jackson. I want to play an older version of him. That would be really cool.

Never say never. But aside from playing Michael, what other types of roles appeal to you?

I want to do more movies. I want to work with actors who’ve been in the business and whose movies I’ve watched before. I’d really love to meet them on set and not be the only main character. But I also want to do movies where I am the main character and have that shine. So people can focus on me.

Listen, man. Your future is extremely bright, and we’re all incredibly proud of you. I can’t even begin to imagine the offers that are pouring in for you right now. So keep killing.

Thank you!

Is there anything else you want to say to your fans?

Thank you so much for your support! I’m really glad that you’ve been a part of this entire journey, supporting the cast and me, and all the people who worked on this movie for hours and hours. I’m just really grateful. I love you guys.

The U.S. is at war, and the economy is shit, but if the mothers in our lives can continue to hold us down, the least we can do is honor and celebrate them.

So with Mother’s Day rapidly approaching like a meteor, here are some affordable gift recommendations to help you do exactly that.

I’m just here to help.

Nevra Skin

Mother’s Day seems like an opportune time to support a woman-owned business, and Nevra Skin’s vast collection of serums, botanical cleansers, balms, and all-natural wizardry will keep your mom glowing and gorgeous year-round.

Just make sure you leave some space in the fridge next to all that Pepsi, since these products work best when they’re chilled to “maintain maximum effectiveness and deliver clean, fresh results.”

Google TV Streamer 4K

Every mom deserves a good binge session, and I’m 98% sure that the Google TV Streamer 4K is the all-in-one entertainment hub that’s been missing from her life.

Doesn’t she deserve 4K HDR Dolby Vision with Dolby Atmos 3D sound? Wouldn’t she appreciate plenty of storage space to download apps like Netflix and Spotify? Shouldn’t she be able to control all her smart home devices from her TV? And I’d bet she’d really love to be able to chat with Gemini to find the remote for her.

So you know what to do. Snatch this up immediately so she can spend her weekend staring at Sterling K. Brown.

Bohdi Bottle

I mean, plastic bottles are cute, but don’t you think it’s time for an upgrade?

I don’t think you want the woman who brought you into this world drinking from anything that holds odors or can leach chemicals. Which is exactly why it’s time to upgrade to something that’s cleaner, safer, and a little more sophisticated—like borosilicate glass.

The Bohdi Bottle is leak-proof, toxin-free, and comes in eight different colors. So ditch that boring ass Stanley and thank me later.

Earthly Threads Serene Bamboo Robe

If there’s one thing I’ve learned throughout the course of my life, it’s that women love a nice robe. Thankfully, Earthly Threads Serene Robe offers the exact type of elegance the mom in your life deserves.

Whether it’s the deep side pockets, the tie waist, or the unimaginably soft bamboo comfort, this robe is a guaranteed win for any mom in dire need of some timely relaxation.

Luc Belaire Alcohol-Removed Rare Rosé

With everyone drinking less and less, and mocktails all the rage, there’s no better option for the mom in your life looking for a non-alcoholic, premium sparkling rosé.

Whether it’s for brunch or a quiet night at home, the newly-launched Luc Belaire Alcohol Removed Rare Rosé is crafted in France by fifth and sixth-generation winemakers and offers opulence without the alcohol.

Bar & Bar Shampoo and Conditioner Bars

Every mom deserves a good shampoo bar, and since they’re all the rage, the one in your life is no exception.

Bar & Bar prides itself on offering a “luxurious, plastic-free system of seven targeted shampoo and conditioner bars she can mix and match for personalized, high-performance results.” And with science-backed ingredients and that woman-owned business touch, your mom’s hair couldn’t be in better hands—or bars.

Itzy Ritzy Belong Utility Backpack Diaper Bag

Aside from a pitstop at Starbucks, nothing makes life easier for a new mom on the go than the right diaper bag. And with its countless pockets, water-resistant lining, changing pad, and stroller straps, Itzy Ritzy is definitely onto something with their Belong Utility Backpack Diaper Bag.

Built for “both the practical and playful moments,” this backpack fits everything from laptops to toys, making a day in the life of a busy mom as stress-free as possible.

Be Rooted Let Your Mind Run Free Wellness Planner

As much time and energy as the mom in your life spends taking care of everyone else, now’s the opportune time to give her the gift she’s likely in dire need of: self-care.

With Be Rooted’s Let Your Mind Run Free Wellness Planner, she can keep track of her fitness goals, stress levels, and other priorities throughout the week, all while staying mindful and motivated. It also includes guided prompts and ample space for reflection to help her stay on top of her health and protect her peace of mind.

Trigger Warning: This story contains descriptions of fatal violence.

We’re in the midst of an unprecedented rise in violence against Black women. But more specifically, it’s femicide—“the intentional killing with a gender-related motivation”—that’s creating irreparable harm in our communities.

According to UN Women, throughout the world, a woman is killed by their intimate partner or family member every 10 minutes. The agency further describes this disturbing dynamic as such:

April has been particularly gruesome in regard to Black femicide, with high-profile cases—and lingering suspicions of these heinous acts—becoming a weekly occurrence.

This is why I’ve made it a point to shed light on this crisis: to honor many of the lives that were stolen and to amplify the need for accountability, compassion, and prevention.

Dr. Cerina Fairfax

From CNN:

What makes Cerina’s murder particularly disturbing has been the deluge of Black men attempting to humanize and center her killer. Here’s some additional reading on this disgusting behavior, courtesy of Dr. Stacey Patton.

Vice Mayor Nancy Metayer Bowen

From Coral Springs Talk:

Described as a “rising star in the Democratic Party,” the fervent environmental justice activist was about to announce a historic run for Congress. This one hits home for me, as she was the best friend of a good friend of mine.

Pastor Tammy McCollum

From Beliefnet:

According to Rev. Dorothy Boulware, McCollum’s murder is a “shocking symptom of a much larger problem: Black women clergy and faith leaders dealing with abuse, harassment, or worse, from men in the church—and in their personal lives.”

Victoria Alexander

From the Philadelphia Inquirer:

She’s remembered by her colleagues and residents as “a compassionate and attentive presence.”

Qualeshia “Saditty” Barnes

From FOX 2 Detroit:

According to 11Alive, Barnes had made the dean’s list while pursuing her nursing degree.

Barbara Deer

From the Chicago Sun-Times:

Per Juneteenth Illinois, where Deer served as Executive Director, she was a member of the Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority and enjoyed volunteering and sewing.

Davonta Curtis

From the Chicago Sun-Times:

Additionally, here are 10 ways you can help end violence against women.

At this point, we’re all at least vaguely familiar with the life and legacy of one Michael Joseph Jackson.

His impoverished upbringing in Gary, Ind., has been well chronicled, as has his subsequent “discovery” and tutelage under Diana Ross. Some of us were even lucky enough to witness his ascent to superstardom firsthand. First, as a spellbinding pubescent with the Jackson 5 as early as 1964, before soaring to even greater heights as a solo act—earning the distinction, and the illustrious crown, of the King of Pop.

Then that’s when things went…left.

The fascination with children; the Elephant Man’s bones; the words “to the Badd!!”; the endless succession of plastic surgeries.

The allegations; the court dates; the tabloids.

The tragic demise in 2009.

The documentaries.

Unpacking all of this is already complicated and confounding, but especially when Lionsgate tasks you with untangling an epochal career that spanned five decades, and funneling it into a mere two hours of runtime. A feat of this magnitude is beyond the capabilities of most, but thankfully, Antoine Fuqua is equipped for the job—and proves it as the director of the highly anticipated biopic, Michael.

The strength of Michael lies in its self-awareness: This is a film that’s less about spectacle—a trait that's inherent to all things Jackson—and more about how Michael’s ambitions are contextualized and presented to the public. From his father’s devious machinations, to the pressure—and guilt—Michael navigates while keeping his family’s musical empire afloat, it becomes almost immediately clear that the greatest obstacle to his salvation is the family holding him hostage—musically, literally, and figuratively.

Yet despite this encumbrance, his family is presented as more of an ominous threat than a distinguishable one. Because unlike the 1992 miniseries The Jacksons: An American Dream, Fuqua’s incarnation isn’t a family affair—nor a five-hour odyssey.

Instead, Michael is laser-focused on its subject, and its subject only, with his brothers portrayed as ancillary emotional baggage instead of three-dimensional human beings. There are glimpses of life to prove they exist, but if you expect to revisit Joe’s rampant adultery or Jermaine’s tumultuous exit from the Jackson 5, this ain’t the movie for you.

And don’t even ask about Janet.

So instead of watching him quarrel with, and overshadow, his siblings, Michael explores the mythology and unwavering conviction of one of the greatest entertainers the world has ever seen. More specifically, it deconstructs his relentless pursuit of perfection—and the rewards and consequences therein.

He had to be the biggest artist.

“You’re confident, you’re strong,” he mumbles to himself under his breath in the studio. “You’re the greatest of all time.” The result is “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough,” the fiery dancefloor anthem that helped elevate disco and thrust Michael into musical immortality.

He had to have the biggest song.

It’s not exactly a secret that MTV wanted no parts of our Black asses early on. But Michael—and his manager, John Branca—ensured that would change forever once “Billie Jean” usurped their airwaves.

He had to have the perfect face.

“My face isn’t symmetrical,” Michael laments before his first nose job. “For the photographs and all. I have to be perfect.”

It’s a tragic realization that serves as the impetus for decades of self-mutilation.

Yet for all his ambition and talent, every hero has a nemesis. And sadly, Michael’s was his own father. We’ve all heard stories of the horrors that Joe Jackson inflicted upon his wife and nine children, and it’s Coleman Domingo who’s tasked with executing a similar balance of villain with visionary.

With his portentous presence and intimidating leer, he steals every scene with relative ease, disguising Joe’s sinister motives behind altruism. But what makes Domingo’s interpretation of Joe Jackson so terrifying isn’t what he does on screen, it’s what his family—and orbiting music execs—believe he’s capable of.

It’s an Oscar-worthy performance, peppered with vicious jabs like, “What kind of son fires his father? You’ve got a lot to learn about family.” It also demonstrates how, far too often, parents only want their children to succeed on their terms, as Michael is subjected to a barrage of insults and bullied into a Victory tour he wants no parts of for his perceived insolence.

In closing, Michael isn’t a perfect movie, but very few are. The decision to omit his famous brothers and sisters almost entirely—despite their decades of contributions and achievements—was deliberate, but curious. Especially considering how intertwined their collective popularity was throughout the ‘70s and ‘80s. That said, for Black folks, there’s a holy trinity of music biopics: 1998’s The Temptations, 2017’s The New Edition Story, and the aforementioned The Jacksons: An American Dream.

Michael is firmly entrenched in that echelon, and deservingly so—not because it mythologizes the man who taught us to moonwalk, but because it understands the unfathomable cost of becoming him. Perfection didn’t define Michael. It was the pursuit of it—and everything we lost with him.

Michael premieres in theaters on April 24.

Jerry West is kind of a big deal.

Aside from having impeccable taste in player acquisitions—he was the architect behind the 1980s “Showtime” Lakers before luring Kobe and Shaq to Los Angeles to jumpstart the next dynasty in the 2000s—he was nice as fuck on the basketball court.

Like, 12-time All-NBA, nice. 1960 Olympic gold medalist, nice.

1972 NBA champion, nice. NBA 75th Anniversary Team, nice.

The only player in NBA history to win Finals MVP while playing for the losing team, nice.

Then, after he decided to stop breaking everyone’s ankles on the court for a living, he continued his reign of terror as a coach—remember that pit stop at the Western Conference Finals in 1977?—and front office exec, where, with the keys to the kingdom, the Lakers blossomed into the gold standard in professional sports, and the moribund Memphis Grizzlies flourished as a perennial playoff team. He then went on to sprinkle his Midas touch on the Golden State Warriors—who ran up two championships during his tenure—and the Clippers before he passed at the age of 86 in 2024.

So simply put, Jerry West is basketball.

That’s why he was inducted into the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame on three separate occasions: as a player (in 1980), on behalf of the 1960 U.S. men’s Olympic basketball team (in 2010), and for his unprecedented success as a general manager and advisor (in 2024).

Oh, and the NBA logo? That’s his silhouette.

So if there’s a professional athlete in the history of Western Civilization who’s deserving of an Amazon MGM Studios documentary, it’s Jerry West. And in Jerry West: The Logo, director Kenya Barris peers behind the mythology to reveal the person—and every ounce of pain—buried beneath.

Early in this doc, the man who collected an astonishing eight NBA championships as an executive offers a candid confession: “I learned so much from winning, but more from losing.” And as the byproduct of an impoverished, abusive household, it becomes almost immediately clear that for all of the accolades he accrued later in life, the crippling losses began early.

His childhood was fraught with violence, and sadly, it only escalated after his older brother, David, joined the military and was killed in the Korean War. It’s hard to imagine spending the holidays with your brother’s casket next to the Christmas tree, yet as devastating as David’s loss was, Jerry insists that the tragic death of Kobe Bryant decades later was just as emotionally catastrophic. We also learn that the first time Jerry’s wife ever saw him cry was when Magic Johnson was diagnosed with HIV in 1991.

While Jerry is somber as he revisits these ghosts of the past, it’s his friends and family who contextualize the true extent of his anguish through their own firsthand accounts. He’s described as withdrawn and emotionally inaccessible—greeting his sons with handshakes instead of hugs—and affable one day, then struggling to even get out of bed the next. He even admits that he doesn’t use the words “I love you” because he “doesn’t know if it’s inside of me.”

Further fracturing his psyche was the toll that basketball took on him. Despite being synonymous with winning as an executive, losing seven consecutive NBA Finals to the Boston Celtics as a player clearly broke something inside of him. So much so that his son reveals that his father almost had a panic attack upon returning to Boston Garden as the Lakers’ general manager, and that the family is forbidden from ever wearing green.

We often view Jerry through the prism of invincibility, as he’s widely considered one of the greatest players, and the single greatest front office executive, in the history of the sport. But how he viewed himself wasn’t framed by his achievements, he was framed by calamity—and the trauma that burrowed itself deep within his soul until his dying day.

For the casual fan, Jerry West: The Logo is a compelling collection of riveting interviews and obscure archival footage, presented through Barris’ curious lens. But if you’re anything like me, it’s the juicy morsels of compassion and candor that make this documentary such a satisfying treat.

Jerry West: The Logo is available on Prime Video on April 16th.

Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice is hilarious.

It’s also a bit aggressive with the ampersands, but there’s a good reason for that.

You see, Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice is what happens when mob bosses & time travel & after after parties & chloroform & Gilmore Girls &—hold up. Let’s try this again.

On the surface, Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice sounds eerily similar to just about every mob movie in the history of Western civilization: Mike (James Marsden) is sick and tired of shooting people in the face for a living. So, of course, on the night he finally decides to call it quits, his fellow career criminal, Nick (Vince Vaughn), convinces him to hit one last lick before Mike hangs his jersey in the rafters.

Did I mention Mike partakes in ravenous, extramarital sex with Nick’s wife, Alice (Eiza González), behind his back? Oh.

Naturally, this illicit love triangle is the perfect recipe for a vengeful bloodbath. But because Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice is hellbent on giving the tired mob movie trope the middle finger, it adds a completely unhinged twist to the equation: a time machine.

Yes, you read that right: a time machine.

And as with all things that involve semi-automatic handguns and time travel, foolishness and fuckery ensue for approximately 107 minutes of runtime, as Nick arrives from the future to save his BFF Mike in the present from a murderous crime boss (Keith David).

I did mention Mike is fucking Nick’s wife, right?

Just making sure.

If this all sounds like complete and utter insanity, it’s because it absolutely is. But that’s also what imbues this movie with its undeniable charm: the outlandishness of it all juxtaposed against the conventional “one last job and I’m out” trope. We’ve been down this road before, with Robert De Niro in Heat, Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven, and approximately 7,391,528 other instances of a contrite mobster running back on stage for one last encore to the audience’s delight.

But with a time machine?

This has gotta be a first.

Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice isn’t without its missteps, however.

That whole Wong Kar-wai smeared visual aesthetic that director BenDavid Grabinski sporadically deploys is confounding, and if gratuitous amounts of camp isn’t your ministry, you might find the tone of this film off-putting.

Hell, you might even mistake it for parody.

That said, it’s borderline criminal that this excellent cast, with their excellent gags, won’t get the opportunity to be drowned in laughter and box office receipts since they’re skipping that whole extravagant theatrical release thing in order to take their quirkiness and snark straight to Hulu.

But just remember: Even though wacky sci-fi action comedies might be condemned to streaming services in this day and age, that doesn’t make them any less worthy of praise or accolades.

Some movies step up to the plate and swing for greatness. Others stumble into cult classic status by sheer force of personality. Because sometimes, all it takes is a time machine, a generous dose of betrayal, and absolutely no interest in behaving.

Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice premieres on Hulu on March 27th.

Behind every confident man is a woman protecting his ego.

And as a New York Times bombshell investigation revealed on Wednesday, the latest—and most heinous—example of this disturbing reality is courtesy of civil rights icon Cesar Chavez.

I won’t pretend to have intimate knowledge of his work to establish The United Farm Workers, or the decades he poured into activism and environmental justice. But now I do know that every achievement, every accolade, he accomplished while standing up for the rights and liberties of marginalized Mexican Americans came at an unimaginable cost: the purloined innocence of the same women and underage girls he was supposed to be fighting for.

Two things can be true: the farm labor movement was instrumental in ensuring farm workers received fair wages, labor rights, and safer working conditions. It even played a crucial role in getting California’s 1975 Agricultural Labor Relations Act passed. But no movement is perfect, and even those that empower and uplift are entirely capable of harm.

As the incredible work of reporters Manny Fernandez and Sarah Hurtes proves, Dolores Huerta—an iconic civil rights activist and community organizer in her own right—wasn’t the only one who survived unspeakable horrors at the hands of Chavez. But what makes her unique—and her circumstances especially tragic—is that as the co-founder of The United Farm Workers, of which Chavez’s entire legacy is built upon, she was tasked with concealing her abuse in service to what she believed to be the greater good.

“I am nearly 96 years old,” she wrote in a statement on Wednesday. “And for the last 60 years have kept a secret because I believed that exposing the truth would hurt the farmworker movement I have spent my entire life fighting for.”

In her statement, she not only details the sexual abuse she suffered but also reveals that those encounters resulted in the birth of two children—children she was denied the opportunity to love, cherish, and raise as her own.

“I chose to keep my pregnancies secret and, after the children were born, I arranged for them to be raised by other families that could give them stable lives,” she wrote. “Over the years, I have been fortunate to develop a deep relationship with these children, who are now close to my other children, their siblings. But even then, no one knew the full truth about how they were conceived until just a few weeks ago.”

So not only did Dolores spend decades of her life standing side by side with her abuser—championing his reputation; protecting his ego—she did so because she felt she had no better way to fight for her community.

“I carried this secret for as long as I did because building the movement and securing farmworker rights was my life’s work,” she wrote. “The formation of a union was the only vehicle to accomplish and secure those rights, and I wasn’t going to let Cesar or anyone else get in the way. I channeled everything I had into advocating on behalf of millions of farmworkers and others who were suffering and deserved equal rights.”

I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of sacrifice that takes.

To love your people—and their progress—so much that you suffer in silence, all while the monster who tried to break you is revered for his fortitude and character. Time and time again.

Streets and schools are named after him. Parks, plazas. Libraries and holidays. He even has a Presidential Medal of Freedom—the highest civilian honor our government can bestow.

And throughout all of that—the boycotts, the union negotiations, the advocacy for women’s rights, possibly even the 1965 Delano Grape Strike—she clung to his secrets.

Buried them in her womb and protected them with her life.

I don’t know what’s next for Dolores and the other survivors, but I find it fascinating that Chavez is facing more outrage and accountability from the grave (he died in 1993) than our sitting president is for similar behavior.

I also hope that Dolores and every other survivor are rewarded with the opportunity to properly heal now that they’ve been so courageous in sharing their truth.

May the rest of their days be free from protecting any more male egos.

Sí, se puede.

(If you are a survivor or if you have been impacted by any type of sexual violence, please visit the Dolores Huerta Foundation website, where you will find a list of resources for support.)

SPOILER WARNING: Don’t read another word unless you hate yourself enough not to be keeping up with the latest episode of Paradise.

Yo, I don’t know what type of performance-enhancing drugs Dan Fogelman is on—this man needs to be tested IMMEDIATELY—but he took a series that was already exceptional, sprinkled it with pixie dust, and has somehow made it even better during its sophomore season.

Considering this is the same dude who subjected millions to unspeakable amounts of emotional torment every week with his most popular creation, This Is Us, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. But Dan has become synonymous with the Emmys for a reason, and he’s definitely keeping that same energy with his latest concoction, Hulu’s Paradise.

We Outside!

When last we left Sterling K. Xavier Collins, he had escaped the Ninja Turtles’ lair and taken to the friendly skies after learning that his beloved, beautiful, Black-ass wife, Teri, had survived the zombie apocalypse. Naturally, after spending eight straight episodes inside that sealed bunker, we all could use a little fresh air. But instead of picking up where Xavier’s trek to Atlanta left off, we’re cordially introduced to…

…a post-apocalyptic Graceland, of all places.

Such a seismic shift in setting was jarring at first—trading in all the chaos and claustrophobia of last season for sunshine and rainbows stolen car batteries was not on my bingo card—but it’s nice to finally get a little elbow room. We went from sleeping on the bottom bunk to swimming in a sea of sheets and pillowcases in a California king.

I mean, sure, life on the surface isn’t exactly ideal: billions of people were either nuclear wintered, supervolcanoed, or megatsunamied, so what’s left of Trump’s America is in worse shape than his ankles, but this expansion in scope offers limitless story potential. No longer are we trapped in the library with Jeremy, or in the shower with Xavier and that Gabriela lady that wasn’t Teri. Now we get to frolic and play in Elvis’s basement, scour for blankets to swaddle in a Waffle Barn, and pick fresh tomatoes at an Atlanta post office.

I guess the end of the world ain’t so bad after all—especially when you’ve got some unexpected company.

Who All Gon’ Be There?

You really thought we’d finally escape that stuffy-ass bunker and wouldn’t stumble upon some new friends to play with?

From the jump, we’re introduced to Annie—the should-be doctor whose years of solitude at Graceland greatly contribute to her childhood trauma and inability to trust others. This, of course, becomes a bit of a problem when Link magically appears to knock her up. But even more so when—after he’s forced to chuck up the deuce and leave her behind—she’s reluctant to seek help during the birth of their daughter. Thankfully, everyone loves Xavier, so naturally, Annie takes a liking—and a gun—to him before bestowing upon him his “holy charge”: he’s gotta take the baby to its father because ummm…Annie’s dead, y’all.

Yeeeeeah.

So as if Xavier doesn’t already have murderous scavengers stabbing him in the ribs in this dystopian wasteland, now he’s gotta burp babies and heat up bottles because Link doesn’t do condoms?

A Black man’s burden, indeed.

But with Annie buried next to Elvis in the backyard somewhere, don’t think the parade of new faces comes to an end. Oh, no no no. We’ve got a cartel of thieving-ass kids; Henry Miller, a quantum entanglement professor who was kind enough to euthanize his wife before headbutting a bullet; Henry Baines, the Trump-adjacent successor to President Cal, whose necktie of choice is a slit throat; Bean, whose adolescence and curiosity bring some much-needed levity to an otherwise forlorn future; and punk-ass Gary, who needs his punk-ass beat expeditiously.

Considering mailmen are entrusted with everything from Christmas gifts to dildos, you’d think they’d be some of the most virtuous inhabitants in the entire universe. But nope! Apparently, a nuclear winter brings out the worst in all of us, because this motherfucker Gary really aint shit. While the depths of his ain’t shitness have yet to be determined, murdering your best friend is a pretty good start—and it’s safe to assume he’d love nothing more than for our lord and savior Xavier to suffer a similar fate.

But it’s Link in particular who’s the most compelling of this new influx of allies and antagonists. As the de facto leader of the largest faction we’ve come across yet, who is Alex? And why is Link so hellbent on killing them?

So many new friends! So little time!

#ThoseFlashbacksTho

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. And with all the success he’s had with This Is Us and Only Murders in the Building, Dan Fogelman continues to tantalize us with delicious tidbits of the past.

Oh, so that’s why Gary’s descent into villainy is so tragic.

Oh, so that’s how Xavier and Teri met.

Oh, so that’s why Graceland meant so much to Annie.

Oh, so that’s why Billy and Jane ain’t shit.

Oh, so that’s why [a bunch of other things I can’t speak on yet since I’ve already watched the rest of the season]!

Hell, if it wasn’t for flashbacks, we’d have no idea how charismatic and layered our favorite corpse, Cal, was. So shoutout to them for doing the Lord’s work in both providing context and raising the stakes to astonishing heights.

Now, who needs a breath mint?

Well, long time no see, old friend.

When singer-songwriter-producer Rashad last graced us with his presence, it was with his second studio album, 2015’s The Quiet Loud—the esoteric follow-up to his critically acclaimed debut, Museum. With its obscure samples and unorthodox approach—we’re talking about a dude who flips French horns and tubas into bouncing basslines—his sophomore album was equal parts autobiography and introspective ode to creative freedom.

As someone whose musical journey has been mired in more than its fair share of frustrations—as his failed deals with labels like RCA and Columbia can attest to—his victory laps as an independent entity are a testament to his talent and his unyielding belief in it.

“I’ve been frustrated with the industry, for sure. But I was one of those kids who didn’t give himself a plan B,” he told Columbus Monthly while discussing his string of major label woes. “When you’re in that grind, it’s all about sounding like someone else. For a creative person, that sucks.”

He continued: “I learned I need to be completely true to what I do, and I got more comfortable in my own shoes. I was more reserved [then]. Now, I’m not holding anything back.”

In the 11 years in between The Quiet Loud and his latest release, I Was Told There’d Be Gold, Rashad bided his time racking up placements like every other in-demand music producer. From Bizzy Bone’s son, to jumping Jack Harlow into the “Gang Gang Gang,” to blessing fellow Columbus, Ohio native J. Rawls with a trip to “Rio.” Even Stranger Things star Caleb McLaughlin knew who to call when it was time to “bring it on back” to his “Neighborhood.”

But music aside, life happened. He became a husband and a father—and we get to hear all about that evolution, and much more, on I Was Told There’d Be Gold.

In what should come as a surprise to absolutely no one, the production picks up exactly where it left off on his prior releases: knockin’. For all his shortcomings as a vocalist, Rashad knows his otherworldly command of playing keys and MPCs is where his strength lies. But for all his prowess as a producer, it’s his aptitude as a songwriter that doesn’t get nearly enough credit.

On the neck jerker “Return to Brazil,” we’re treated to Rashad’s signature blend of beauty and boom-bap as he ponders if “heaven left us down here,” and theorizes that “life is beautiful, but it can be hell too.” Additional themes throughout the album include perseverance (“Larry’s Lament”), valor in the face of insurmountable odds (“Courage”), and, of course, love.

With its nods to everything from Apache’s “Gangsta Bitch” to Earth, Wind & Fire’s “Fantasy,” I Was Told There’d Be Gold is pure genre-hopping delight. You’ll get plenty of hip-hop; you’ll get a generous portion of R&B; you’ll even get a heaping scoop of house. But most importantly, you’ll get what’s sure to be one of the strongest releases of the year from one of the most criminally underrated musical maestros of our time.

I was late to the Bruno Mars party.

I know, I know.

When the artist formerly known as Peter Gene Hernandez generously offered to catch a grenade for the rest of y’all, I wasn’t particularly fond of his power pop stylings—or his aggressive pompador. But once “Uptown Funk” seized the entire galaxy—leaving man, woman, and UFO alike at the mercy of a cacophony of synths and crutch thrusts—my apprehensions were officially cast aside.

It was time to accept my fate and partake in the Kool-Aid.

Fast forward to 2026, and the Grammy Award-winning crooner has since blossomed into one of my favorite artists. His showmanship is unmatched, and between his Billboard dominance, his studious approach to his craft, and his uncanny mutant ability to shapeshift through music genres like an X-Men villain, his latest studio album, The Romantic, was one of the most anticipated since…24K Magic—of which he dropped a decade ago.

This context is important because, under typical circumstances, The Romantic would be considered a comeback album. However, when you’re an artiste as prolific as Bruno, even your respite is anything but—as evidenced by the duets, Silk Sonics, and Vegas residences (as in plural) that occupied his time.

That means that, without the allure of a triumphant return, how do you give the people what they want without giving them what they’ve already had? Somehow, that Aubrey person doesn’t seem to have this problem, but when you’re Bruno Mars, the answer is simple: go in the closet and try on another genre.

On The Romantic, Bruno takes an audacious—if not completely unexpected—plunge into Chicano soul. While 2021’s An Evening with Silk Sonic served as the perfect precursor for the boleros to come—since it familiarized his audience with a time-traveling tour of the ‘70s—instead of staying rooted in the Chi-Lites and Con Funk Shuns of yesteryear, The Romantic draws inspiration from trailblazers like Tito Puente. And while the end result is stellar, it also poses far more questions than it answers.

Kicking things off with the gorgeous “Risk It All,” with its blaring mariachi horns and maudlin guitars, one can’t help but wonder if we’re unwilling participants in cultural appreciation or self-serving cosplay—especially after seeing the music video, in which Bruno fronts a mariachi band and gallivants alongside his conveniently Chicana bride.

The rest of the album is comprised of much of the same. With serial hitmaker D’Mile serving as co-conspirator, Bruno goes from reciting Soulja Slim lyrics over strings and congas on “Cha Cha Cha,” to questioning if “God Was Showing Off” over trumpets you’ve definitely heard before, to channeling teenage heartthrob Ritchie Valens on the album closer, “Dance With Me.”

If the goal of this project was to sell out yet another world tour, and run up an insane amount of streams in the process, then mission accomplished. But as someone who considers himself a fan, I wish his otherworldly musical acumen and attention to detail extended beyond merely performance. Bruno’s catalog is often ridiculed for being vapid or formulaic, but it’s nearly impossible to foster transparency or depth when you’re in the business of homage.

“I’m trying to live the dream, but I need you on my team,” he howls on the Curtis Mayfield-esque “On My Soul.” “So if you want me like I want you, let me hear you scream.”

Vapid? Formulaic?

Clearly, he’s not beating those allegations.

In contrast, Anderson .Paak—his cohort in all things Silk Sonic—has used his gift of song to divulge his pandemic observations; grieve the loss of his close friend, Mac Miller; blast Trump and lament gun violence; and even give us a glimpse into his life post-divorce. So, whereas Bruno has made it his duty to study everyone else’s business—as evidenced by his lucrative forays into reggae, soft rock, new jack swing, or whatever else pays the bills—he shares literally none of his own.

Comedians routinely pour their pain into their jokes on stage; Beyoncé made an entire album explaining why Solange unleashed Jiu-jitsu in that elevator. So, seventeen years into his career, when will Bruno finally allow us to peer behind his veil? When will he stop telling us what we want to hear and instead bear even a fragment of his soul?

He’s spent so much time being everyone else—from Morris Day to Porter Wagoner—that we honestly have no fucking idea who he actually is. And to that end, when will he stop making music that’s so shamelessly derivative of popular works?

I love the guy, but songs should serve as declarations—not mementos. And at this point, I’d much rather hear his truth than his endless string of “tributes.”

That said, if spending 32 minutes of your life repeating, “Yo, this sounds like…” is your thing, then The Romantic unquestionably delivers—just like it did when Carlos Santana and Tower of Power did it first. But if you’re like me, and prefer a bit more authenticity pouring out of your earbuds, then this Bette Davis quote puts things into perspective:

“If everybody likes you, you’re pretty dull.”

Stop being dull, Bruno.

Both your fans and your talent deserve so much more.

“This is crazy.”

Despite former Tony! Toni! Toné! frontman Raphael Saadiq’s claims that “It Never Rains in Southern California,” on an uncharacteristically dreary morning, the clouds bearing down on Los Angeles are doing exactly that. Undeterred, he offers a mea culpa: “It doesn’t rain, it like—storms here. Lucky I wore some boots though.”

If his calm demeanor in the midst of chaos comes as a surprise, it shouldn’t. With Ryan Coogler’s Sinners taking Hollywood by—well—storm during awards season, Saadiq’s lone contribution to its soundtrack, the spellbinding “I Lied to You,” is up against Diane Warren, KPop Demon Hunters, and others vying for Best Original Song at the upcoming 98th Academy Awards.

It’s the type of sonic immortality that, after nearly 40 years in this business, honestly feels inevitable.

So, in between flash flood warnings and accolades for his executive production on Brent Faiyaz’s latest album, Saadiq and I discussed all things Sinners, the tragic loss of his “brother” D’Angelo, and the invaluable role his grandmother plays in his appreciation for Black History Month.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Jay Connor: Sinners is easily one of the most culturally profound movies in recent memory—if not ever. How did you become involved in such an impactful project?

Raphael Saadiq: I got a phone call from Ryan Coogler. We’re both from the Bay Area, both born and raised in Oakland. We never met in person, but we knew of each other. I also got a call from [Grammy Award-winning composer] Ludwig Göransson, who scored the movie. They invited me over and gave me a rundown.

Ludwig is a beast.

Yeah, he’s a beast.

He’s no joke. And with him using blues as the lifeblood of this soundtrack, what was the creative process like with “I Lied to You”?

I spoke to Ryan on FaceTime as he was getting ready to start shooting. He told me the history of his uncle, who was really into blues. His uncle gave him the history of the relationship between the blues and church, and the complications that blues players faced: that if you played the blues, you were going to hell. So there was this tug-of-war between church and the blues.

I knew that story all too well, growing up in Oakland around a lot of Pentecostal, Church of God in Christ—people like Sly of Sly and the Family Stone. His dad, Sylvestor Sr., was a pastor. He would come to our church and preach sometimes. He’d see us playing music, and he’d look at us like, “Don’t get out there in the world and get turned out.” So I lived Preacher Boy’s story.

Oh, wow.

So once Ryan gave me his uncle’s interpretation of that, we got off the phone, and Ludwig and I grabbed our guitars and jammed for an hour. We came up with the main guitar licks, then off the top of my head, I just started singing the lyrics. It just sort of came out.

The way Ryan explained what he wanted to me, it made me think about blues musicians like Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf—just to name a few. That’s what I was pulling from. That was my inspiration. And I guess the ancestors came down because it fit the film so perfectly. Just that lyric, “I lied to you.” I don’t even know why I said it, but it matched the film.

It had to be something spiritual that happened, because the kid who was singing it, Miles Caton, he has this big voice—

Yeah, his voice is crazy. He sounds like a grown-ass man.

And he’s a young dude! Like 20 years old. I could never sound like that.

He was the missing ingredient that made that song so mesmerizing. Were there any other influences you drew from—aside from Muddy Waters and some of the others you mentioned—in the song’s creation?

It just came from inside of me, really. That’s me. I grew up with blues. Growing up with my father, going fishing with my mom, just being out on the banks. I’ve been listening to blues all my life. I could pull from so many places that I don’t even know where it came from. That’s why I say it has to be the ancestors who dropped in on me like that.

You know when they say, “Stay ready so you don’t have to get ready?” I really believe in that. I’ve been ready for something like this my whole life.

That’s a pretty profound statement to make—especially with the caliber of projects you had already worked on prior to Sinners. From Higher Learning, to The PJs, to Luke Cage, to Insecure, you have a lengthy history of using music to expand the scope of visual storytelling. What is it about music and film that pair so well together?

I’m a very visual person. I’ve also found that I really like writing to films. I can just turn the volume down, and if I see something, I like writing to it.

When you have DPs (the director of photography) and directors shoot something that beautiful—I didn’t even get a chance to see this one. I only had a day to work on this.

Hold up. A day?

I did it in like two hours, then left. I never saw the film or heard the song again until the movie came out.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. They gave you two hours?!

Nah, they didn’t give me two hours, but that’s how long it took.

Oh, aiight. [Laughs] I was like, what?!

They were leaving in the next two days, so we only had that one day to do it. It just came out.

Sometimes you write music and it comes out slowly. When Toto wrote “Georgy Porgy,” one of the Porcaro brothers told me they played it and sang it down the first time. He just kept going. Sometimes you have songs that take a week, sometimes they take a year, sometimes they only take an hour. This was one of those two-hour songs. The words came out, and everything was just flowing. So I know it wasn’t me. I’m just a vessel. I felt that energy through my body that—it wasn’t me. Ryan, Ludwig, and I were just put in place to do what we did.

As a fellow creative, I can relate entirely when you say that. It’s like when Steph Curry’s in the zone—he can’t miss. Sometimes you’ll sit there, and it’ll take you forever to put something together. Then other times, it’s immediate. So you’re like, “Okay, dope! I should keep cooking up because—”

[Laughs] I’m in a zone! Can’t nobody mess with me.

You feel me?

Feed me the rock!

[Laughs] For sure. So obviously, there’s a difference between reading the script throughout the creative process and actually seeing the end result with the song incorporated on screen. But I’m curious: Since you came in, banged the song out in two hours, then dipped out, what was it like to watch that scene for the first time? Especially knowing how pivotal it was to the film?

I was so surprised because it expressed something I always talk about: how Black music is everything. We speak through drums. Drums are a language. Our conversation is always drums. It’s always rhythm. So in that scene, when it goes through all the different variations of hip-hop and all those different things, it cemented that for me.

I had to see it twice to really grasp what was going on. I was looking at Ryan—it was dark, so they couldn’t see me looking at them—but I’m looking at them like, “What the?” I’m looking around—I didn’t know what to think. And when I heard “I Lied to You,” I didn’t even remember the song.

How long before the movie came out did you record it?

Maybe like six months?

So it wasn’t too crazy of a wait.

Nah, it wasn’t too crazy. It might’ve been longer, but I don’t think it was that long.

Aiight, I got you. Between being a journalist and a consultant, I see a lot of movies and TV shows way before they’re even finished. So I saw Sinners at least three times before opening night, and the first time I saw that scene, my mind was completely blown like everyone else. But the other two times, I was just watching people, and they all had the same reaction you and I had, where we’re all just sitting there stuck like, “What the hell just happened?”

[Laughs] Yeah.

And with that underlying theme of Black music having this supernatural element to it, in real life, that’s the Black experience. There’s something extraordinary about us—whether it’s a byproduct of the obstacles we’ve faced—but there’s a reason we’re the epicenter of creativity and culture throughout the world. So seeing Ryan and everyone else involved create a scene that so masterfully illustrates our impact and influence was amazing. And the fact that you were a part of it is just icing on the cake.

We are the drums. We create that base for people to start from. That’s us. That’s what we do.

I’m such a fan of Michael B. Jordan, too. And Howlin’ Wolf’s “Smokestack Lightning” is one of my favorite blues songs. So seeing the characters he played were named Smoke and Stack, I was in there gassed. Just fanning out. Sometimes, when I’m working on a film or a show, I forget that I’m part of the staff working on it, too.

Was this your first time working with Ludwig? And if so, did he specifically state why this was the perfect time for y’all to work together?

He just said they wanted to be really authentic to the film. He was like, “What other person could we call who’s authentic to the culture behind this music?” And that I could probably write something that people would listen to. I’ve had songs called “The Blues.”

[Sings] “Spending all my time pleasing you…”

And that was at a time when nobody would dare put out a song saying you give me the blues! We were young and just knew. It wasn’t a popular thing to say. It’s like when Kendrick put out, “We want the funk!” Funk wasn’t a popular word to use in a record. But if you really believe in something, people will follow. And Ludwig felt like I would be that person.

They went to Clarksdale, Mississippi, the birthplace of blues, and got all the original blues cats—people that even I didn’t know—I got the opportunity to meet. They were very true to the craft.

Sinners has already been killing it throughout award season, but with sixteen Academy Award nominations—the most for any film ever—it’s poised to take Black cinema to unprecedented heights. How does it feel to have your art and your passion so well received?

If I can be honest, this is one of the best feelings of my life. I can feel the people around me talking about it. It feels like I’m carving myself into more history. I’ve been doing this for a while, but everything in front of me just keeps getting better. I’m being blessed by the gods.

I’m being placed around people who love the arts, love creating, and take chances. I’ve always taken chances at every part of my career. I never took the easy route. So win, lose, or draw, I can never lose being around all these great people—and Sinners is the cherry on top. This is making history, and I just love being part of it—with the cast, Ryan, and Ludwig.

This movie is rooted in what I love: the blues. The first record I ever tried to play on a broom was “The Thrill Is Gone” by B.B. King. I remember my sister holding the lamp over me, and I’ve got the broom. [Sings] “The thrill is gone…” I was born for this.

By saying everything in front of you “just keeps getting better,” you’re speaking even more blessings into existence. And I know you said you were sought out for this film, but what is it you look for in collaborators? And in the people you want to work with?

I look for people who have a vision of what they want to be. What they want to do. When I look back at my track record—rest in peace to D’Angelo, my bro—that’s somebody who knew what they wanted to do and who they wanted to be. So it was easy. It was like Sinners—the songs were fast.

When we worked on “Untitled,” I just so happened to be in New York, walking down the street in the Village, and stopped by to get a joint. I was sort of mad at him from like three months before, and he runs up and goes, “Yeah, I got a joint. But can we do a song?” I’m like, “Yeah, let’s do it.” And it becomes one of these monsters. That’s because when two people lock in, and you both have a vision, it just happens like that.

Y’all definitely made magic. And with everything you’ve accomplished throughout the course of your career, I and plenty of others would consider you a human embodiment of Black history. So my question is, what does Black history mean to you, as well as everything you’ve contributed to it?

Black history means great parenting, starting with my grandmother, Sara Ford. She took me to church, and when I was playing, she would stand up and tell everybody how amazing my nephew and I were. But the funny thing is, at that church, my amp was so small, and the organ was so loud, you could never hear anything I was doing. [Laughs]

My grandmother was one generation removed from slavery. So for me to be raised by my mom and my grandmother…I think about it every Black History Month. All day, all year. Thinking about the things our people went through.

My uncle had to go to school and only had one pair of jeans. Then a car would drive through a puddle and muddy up his clothes. He didn’t have any other clothes to wear, so he’d have to go back home, put on a dress, and go to school. [Laughs] So, when I think about that kind of history? As Black people, we can get through anything.

No doubt. So after y’all win the Oscar for Best Original Song, what are you gonna do to celebrate?

We got some stiff competition. But if we do win, I don’t know what I’ll do. That’ll be crazy.

Might have to put one in the air for D’Angelo.

Oh, of course! Definitely.

Roses and cards are cool and all, but with Valentine’s Day *counts on fingers* five days away, now’s the opportune time to switch things up. So, in the spirit of comedian Luenell and R&B icon Al B. Sure—who broke the internet recently when they hard-launched their blossoming romance—I’m here to help you do exactly that.

You’re welcome in advance.

A Dozen Rosés

No, no, no. Read that again.

Not roses—rosés. As in the delicious pink wine, not the flowers that make women swoon and coo.

Rosés!

And there are 12 of them included in this Alcoholics Anonymous-approved bouquet of mini bottles “from up and down the coast of California.” So whether you’re looking for something to sip on the next time you Netflix and chill, or wanna magically transform date night into an elaborate wine tasting, the fine folks at In Good Taste got you.

Like I said: I’m here to help.

Teufel x Fender ROCKSTER GO 2

Oh, yes.

JBL and I go together real bad, but this Fender x Teufel Rockster Go 2 is the first speaker to throw our marriage into complete turmoil—because I’ve been cheating like a mofo.

I’ll be the first to admit this isn’t the loudest speaker, but for its size and price range, it’s a top-tier option for those of us who can’t go a day without running up Spotify streams. Aside from being sexy as shit, it’s waterproof (pool party approved), the bass is no joke, and its insane battery life ensures your car will die before this speaker does.

Snatch this up for that special someone in your life immediately.

A Year of Date Nights Idea Jar

Are things getting stale in your love life? Getting sick of taking your dates to McDonald’s? Well, have I got the gift for you!

Since there’s much more to life than French fries and Big Macs, this jar is brimming with all types of prompts to elevate your date nights for an entire year. And I won’t spoil what each activity is, but my personal fav is the one that says “Give Jay Money.”

Billie Gene Body’s Body Oil

The only thing I hate more than being ashy is Donald Trump.

And as someone who made the religious conversion from lotions to body oils many moons ago, I can attest to their supernatural ability to keep my elbows, toe knuckles, and the rest of my melanated being well moisturized.

That said, celebrity makeup artist-turned-beauty founder Billie Gene Body has unveiled a new line of body oils that are vegan, cruelty-free, gluten-free, and paraben-free. That means sex appeal with no preservatives!

Go forth and receive your blessing.

The Macallan Diamonds Are Forever 55th Anniversary Release

Good things come to those who wait, and there’s no better example of that than The Macallan, who waited 55 years to hit us in the head with their latest and greatest.

This price tag is definitely not for the weak, so make sure you and your boo thang at least hold hands in public before you spend your rent money on one of the best whiskies on the market.

The Levi Fisher Beard Bundle

Look at your beard, bro.

Before your boo thang files assault charges for all those friction burns you’ve been giving them, why not correct course and get that matted mess on your face right?

The Levi Fisher Beard Bundle is all the salvation you need. It includes a foaming beard wash, a 2-in-1 grooming spray, beard detangling lotion, and beard butter so you can stop embarrassing your ancestors in public and finally look like you don’t sleep in an alley.

‘Kiss Me’ Sherpa Hoodie

TODAY contributor Jill Martin is kind of a big deal, so it should come as no surprise that her line of elevated loungewear lives up to her name.

This self-proclaimed “best hoodie in the world” comes in seven different sizes and three different colors, offering a cozy option for the crib or the streets. Additionally, it can be customized with names or initials to personally ensure it’s “stitched with love.”

Cincha Travel’s The Bigger Bag Buddy

Y’all really thought I wouldn’t recommend Black-owned businesses during Black History Month? LOL

From bags, organizers, and beyond, Oakland-based Cincha is killing it in the travel space. So much so that I had a hard time trying to decide which single product of theirs to recommend. But after rolling the dice, I’m going with something we all can use: their Bigger Bag Buddy.

Coming in an assortment of colors and designs, the Bigger Bag Buddy is the perfect accessory for those of us on Team Carry-On who stay on the go. Instead of fumbling through your luggage for your passport, just keep that and everything else that’s essential to your trip looking fly and easily accessible.

As a critically acclaimed culture critic and consultant who’s been ensnared in all things entertainment for approximately 12 years and counting, it’s safe to assume I’ve survived a Grammy Week or seven. So, since people always have questions about what it entails, I figured I’d give those of you who haven’t had the privilege of being deprived of sleep for seven days straight a glimpse behind the curtain.

You’re welcome in advance.

Sooooooo, what the hell is Grammy Week?

I’m glad you asked! In the week leading up to the Grammy Awards, the Recording Academy—and its deep-pocketed associated parties—bombard Los Angeles with an endless succession of live performances, sexy ass dinners, panels, galas, parties, secret events, workshops, and whatever the hell else until the Grammy Awards finally stroll along on Sunday and bring us back to our senses.

Okay, so it’s just for celebrities?

Not at all. It actually serves many functions, and can be beneficial to you whether you’re a big-name celebrity or not. It’s a fantastic opportunity to expand your network, build community, and promote your work. Artist showcases are common, and performing in front of the right manager or meeting the right music exec could completely change your life. It’s basically an annual family reunion for the music industry with groupies sprinkled in—because groupies build character and make everything better.

And it’s for seven days straight?

Yup. Every. Single. Day. There are dozens of events tripping and stumbling over each other literally from the time you wake up until the time you go to bed. So there’s a 100% chance you’re gonna miss something you really wanted to hit up, but such is the price we pay for euphoria.

Damn, that sounds exhausting.

You have nooooooo idea. Which is exactly why I pumped the brakes this year instead of running myself into the ground for the 87th year in a row.

So what’d you do differently this year?

Instead of trying to be anywhere and everywhere like I was contractually obligated to do in a past life, I protected my peace and only popped up where I either had to be or where I really wanted to—either for personal reasons or to support the homies. Shoutout to my therapist for beating this approach into my head. It made a world of difference not only in my enjoyment but also in my mental and physical health.

Yo, I love that for you! So what does a typical day look like?

I’ll give you two different days of the seven, since they were different but somewhat similar.

On Tuesday, since I always support the home team—Amazon Music—I kicked off the day with their Grammy party on the Amazon Studios lot. The drinks and tuna tostadas were plentiful, the vibes were immaculate, and Skepta on the turntables is an undeniable win. After that, I slid over to The Regent for DJ Jazzy Jeff’s Playlist Live, which was dope as the entire fuck and featured Butcher Brown, Mumu Fresh, and countless others paying tribute to J. Dilla. The way each artist put their own spin on different Dilla classics was crazy, and this was easily one of the highlights of the week.

On Friday, I hit up UnitedMasters’ Celebration of Independence, which featured BigXthaPlug and the Clipse—with a special appearance from Pharrell—then slid over to the Epic Records x Hennessy Grammy Party to congratulate Tyla, Giveon, and the rest of their Grammy nominees. (And pop up just in time to wish Tyla a happy birthday.) But the belle of the ball that night was producer Alissa’s Boogie Nights: Grammy Edition party at Sunset at EDITION. Any party that includes a live band, people dancing on roller skates, and Sheila fucking E playing the congas (!!!!!!!!) over your favorite songs is an automatic win.

Are there any events going on the day of the Grammys?

Yup. Plenty of afterparties, and Bryan-Michael Cox’s annual The Breakfast Club Pre-Grammy Brunch, honoring Alex Isley, Eric Roberson, and Walter Jones, was divine. Ask me how I know. (Psssst…I was there.)

Wow, all this sounds dope. How do I attend an event? And who’s paying for all this?

It definitely ain’t cheap. But with sponsors, brands, and artists fighting for your attention, these events are usually free. But there’s a catch, because isn’t there always? Anything open to the public is usually flooded with people trying to attend, so good luck getting your RSVP confirmed. As for the more exclusive stuff, it’s all about relationships. If your best friend is Jamie Foxx, it’s safe to assume you won’t have any problems getting invited to anything.

Okay, I think I got it. I think I’m ready to join in the festivities next year.

I’m just here to help. Go forth and be blessed.

In a past life, when I still had aspirations to conquer Hollywood as a screenwriter, I vividly recall stumbling into our writers’ room at Culver Studios for what would eventually become Strange Angel for AMC Networks.

However, on that particular morning, I had no desire to be there.

The execution of Philando Castile was freshly seared into my soul, and if my 30-plus years as a Black man in America had taught me anything up to that point, it’s that the last place I wanted to be was in a room full of white folks—meandering about their Monday morning, completely oblivious to my rage.

I skipped my usual breakfast of bagels and banter to avoid the exuberance of my colleagues in the kitchen. Instead, my anguish and I sank behind the desk in our conference room.

The silence was comforting.

At least it gave a shit.

To my surprise, one of my fellow scribes noticed I wasn’t my hungry, jovial self. She peered into the conference room from the kitchen, then joined me at the desk. There was an awkward silence as she mulled her approach, but eventually, she lured me in with eye contact.

“I’m sorry.”

I turned away. “For?”

“I saw what happened. You must be so angry.”

I was so astonished at what was happening—that a living, breathing white person was actually expressing concern over yet another murdered Black body—that I could barely process the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“I don’t know how you do it every day,” she continued. “Murdered in cold blood. You must be so afraid.”

I just stared in silence. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

I had spent my entire drive to work that morning dreading these people; their blissful ignorance, their perpetual state of apathy. I was the only Black dude in a writers’ room brimming with privilege, tasked with cranking out a hit TV series with living, breathing human beings who looked and lived nothing like me.

I was used to feeling invisible. I was used to being othered.

But this? To finally feel seen?

I sorted through my thoughts, brushed aside my consternation to speak, and—

“I’ve been telling you to watch House of Cards!” she yelled. “Frank is so good!”

Laughter poured into the room, with fistfuls of caffeine not far behind. Laptops and backpacks collapsed onto the desk in front of us. The rest of our writing staff had arrived.

I watched as she smiled and cackled away with our colleagues. Uncontrollable laughter, devoid of a single care in the world.

I was invisible again.

What happened to Alex Pretti and Renee Good is appalling, but they aren’t isolated incidents.

And maybe—just maybe—if white folks started listening to us sooner instead of laughing, they’d still be alive.

All Lives Matter better get to work.

If you think the “A” in my middle name stands for Atticus or Anthony, then boyyyyyyy, do I have a surprise for you.

That “A” is for anxiety—as in, not being worth a damn until my Lexapro decides to cooperate. As in, “Yeah, I’d love to come inside, but I’m in the driveway waiting for Cleo Sol to talk me out of this panic attack.” As in, “What do you mean Christmas is only a week away?!”

Oops.

So yeah, it might look a little barren under your Christmas tree, but because I’m Black and marvelous, guess who's here to help? And trust me, I’m pretty good at this.

So without further ado, here’s a last-minute procrastinator’s gift guide to salvage your marriage Christmas morning.

Ray-Ban Meta AI Glasses

I know Sarah Connor tried to save us from Skynet and all that, but why fear the future when it can ride your face?!

Okay, maybe that didn’t come out right, but regardless, the second generation of Ray-Ban’s Meta AI Glasses are comprised of all the hopes and dreams we had as children, miraculously brought to life.

Can they capture pictures and 3k videos? Yup. Do they have Bluetooth speakers for music and making drug deals phone calls? Yup. Are they AI-enhanced with a voice assistant to answer your every beck and call? Yup. Can they poplock or swag surf? Helllllllll nah. But they’re still dope as hell, and you need them in your life immediately.

Omaha Steaks

If you’re vegan, you might wanna cover your eyes with a bowl of quinoa or something, while the rest of us heathens arm wrestle for what’s left of the chimichurri.

If I could hug a medium filet mignon, I would. But since I’d much rather have it on my plate than my armpits, Omaha Steaks is really good at that whole red meat thing. From steaks to burgers, salmon to pork chops, they’ve got it all—even the desserts (like molten lava cakes) and sides (like that mistress your kids keep asking about).

Plus, if you snatch up one of their glorious gift boxes for the missus, and there’s a 93% chance you’ll never sleep on the couch again.

You’re welcome in advance.

Crown Royal Chocolate Flavored Whisky

Just because DEI is a thing of the past doesn’t mean your bar cart has to comply.

And because diversity brings out the best in literally everything but the White House, it’s only right that the fine folks at Crown Royal have extended their multi-billion-dollar enterprise to include the one thing that drives Kardashians crazy: plastic surgery chocolate.

So buy a bottle (or seven), pick a recipe, and enjoy your Dr. Umar-flavored blessing.

Kenmore AquaLite 3-in-1 Cordless Hard Floor Cleaner

If you’re like me and loooove to vacuum excessively, but hate anything to do with mopping, then congratulations! Because today’s your lucky day.

Why spend your afternoon vacuuming up dirty-ass floors, then mopping when you can do both at the same damn time? And to my shock and awe, the Kenmore AquaLite 3-in-1 Cordless Hard Floor Cleaner is also equipped with a self-cleaning system. That way, your vacuum won’t have to get ready, because it’ll stay ready.

GoNutz

You’re probably looking at this pic and wondering, “What the hell is that?”

Well, no, R2-D2 didn’t trip and fall on a dominatrix. This is actually GoNutz, arguably the greatest personal grooming device in the history of ever. And I can say that with my entire chest because you can use it in the shower, it self-charges and self-cleans, and it’s designed for both women and their male counterparts’ parts.

Keeping everything sleek and sexy downstairs has never been easier.

Bevel 3-Step Skin Essentials Kit

Imagine snatching up those aforementioned Ray-Ban Meta AI Glasses and not having luxurious melaninated skin to match. That's a travesty, if I've ever heard one.

Thankfully, Bevel loves Black folks almost as much as Rachel Dolezal does. So it should come as no surprise that their 3-Step Skin Essentials Kit is top tier. You can never go wrong with any skin routine that includes a face wash, moisturizer, and exfoliating pads, which makes this a clutch acquisition for those of us scrambling for Christmas gifts in the bottom of the 9th inning.

Macallan Timeless Collections

Featuring some jaw-dropping artwork from the David Carson, Macallan’s Timeless Collection is a delectable ode to its European roots. So whether you have an affinity for sherry oak or you’re more of a double cask connoisseur, trust and believe Macallan will get you right.

Your Christmas won’t be the same without it.

Photo courtesy of Frazer Harrison/Getty Images/Amazon Music.

Country music isn’t my ministry, nor would it ever purport itself to be.

But since I’ve already been singing the praises of Amazon Music Live for approximately 1,079 days (and counting), I might as well keep that same energy after the latest installment of the popular live-streamed concert series.

On Thursday night, Grammy-nominated superstar Shaboozey—America’s favorite hootanany homeboy himself—descended from the heavens and delivered the kind of ethereal set that sorta kinda almost made me want to herd cattle and scour the ranch for more country music.

I said almost, dammit.

As someone who’s strongly considered filing assault charges after spending the past year getting bitch slapped by “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” every 37 seconds, the unrepetant hater in me has often wondered, “Aren’t y’all tired of this shit yet?!” But lo and behold, after 11 agonizing months, Amazon Music Live finally made its triumphant return—with Shaboozey in tow, no less—and my Black ass was front and center to bask in all of its 10-gallon hat glory.

Aside from the Woodbridge, Va. native’s quiet command of the crowd, Season 4 of Amazon Music Live introduces a completely revamped stage. This jaw-dropping new 360° setup not only allows for much more dynamic camera angles for viewers at home, but also facilitates a far more intimate experience for attendees without sacrificing the grandeur or venue capacity of East End Studios, where it’s filmed. Add some themed drinks, a Black-owned ice cream shop, a giant spin the wheel for giveaways, a Kevin Powers cameo, and a mechanical bull ride that my groin and I wanted no parts of, and you have all the ingredients for an unforgettable boot scootin’ boogie—courtesy of the fine folks at Amazon Music.

If you’re one of those poor, unfortunate souls who missed Shaboozey doing the damn thing Thursday night, you can catch the full recap here. (You’re welcome.) Just promise not to be a dumb ass and miss the Foo Fighters, Fuerza Regida, or anyone else scheduled to perform on Amazon Music Live—that’s every Thursday night—the rest of this season.

I’m gonna hit the saloon and go listen to some Randy Travis now.

Many things in life are definitive: Stuffing is definitively vile, I’m the definitive handsome Black man, and Trump is unquestionably the definitive asshole.

But a definitive musical tribute, honoring one of the greatest artists in the history of Western Civilization, is something else entirely.

Minnie Riperton was much more than the vocal acrobat who effortlessly cartwheeled through lullabies like “Lovin’ You.” She was one of the first big names to openly advocate for breast cancer research, the blueprint for the Mariahs and Arianas of the world, and a loving wife and mother who left us at only 31 years young.

Thankfully, her musical legacy will live on forever. And with the blessing of Maya and Richard Rudolph, the legendary Hollywood Bowl took it upon itself on Wednesday to celebrate the 50th anniversary of her second studio album, "Perfect Angel,” with a neoteric night of music and memories.

After a brief introduction by Bay Area songbird Goapele, the festivities kicked off with “Les Fleur,” courtesy of Lizz Wright. For those out the loop, “Les Fleur” is the opening song on Minnie’s debut album, “Come to My Garden.” So I see what they were trying to do, and this is exactly the type of carrying on I’m here for.

But while Lizz came out the gate swinging with “Les Fleur,” it was her intoxicating rendition of “Can You Feel What I’m Saying?” that left me completely mesmerized. The warm texture of her alto added an entirely new dynamic to the “Stay In Love” standout, leaving me eager to explore more of her own music.

You can’t pay tribute to Minnie without doing “Inside My Love” justice, and that responsibility fell on Alex Isley’s courageous shoulders. I love Alex to death, but admittedly, I wish a stronger vocalist would’ve tackled this one. She did her thing, but this is a song with some big notes—as a reminder, Minnie had as many octaves as she did fingers—and Alex will tell you herself that she’s never been that type of singer.

Other highlights of the night include Kings Return putting their signature a cappella spin on Dionne Warwick’s Luther Vandross’ “So Amazing,” George Benson’s guitar doing what George Benson’s guitar does before taking the sold-out crowd to smooth jazz heaven with “Breezin’,” and Chanté Moore—arguably the most underrated vocalist of our time—sending “Lovin’ You” to orbit with a masterclass in vocal dexterity.

Finishing out the night was the incomparable Stevland Hardaway Morris—better known to you lowly commoners as Stevie Wonder—who came out on stage flanked by Maya and Richard Rudolph, Minnie’s Emmy award-winning daughter and songwriting partner/widower. Stevie took a moment to reflect on his friendship with Minnie before performing “Perfect Angel”—a song he just so happened to write for her—and his own “Is It Magic,” bringing the audience to tears.

I’d much rather our luminaries get their flowers while they can still smell them, but the Hollywood Bowl did a spectacular job of honoring one of R&B’s guiding lights.