Dear Chris Brown, The Burnt Sienna Apology Blouse…
I’m overdue for one of my sternly-worded letters. I was pretty perplexed as to who I’d write one to this week. Then Twitter happened. I can ALWAYS blame Twitter. Chris Brown is this week’s addressee.
Dear Chris Brown,
Hey Chris hey. How are you doing? Can we rap for a second? Take a seat. I need to talk to you.
Ok, so you know. Rihanna-gate happened last year. We all know what happened. I shan’t reshash it. People have already talked it into the ground. You gave multiple horrid interviews about it. And wore ill-advised baby blue bowties and burnt sienna apology blouses to make yourself look less threatening. And you never quite owned up to what you did (but that’s neither here nor there). It was just a mess all around. But that’s not what I’m here for. Well, not ALL the way. Since last year’s madness, it seems you haven’t learned a thing.
I mean, I haven’t deleted your music from my iTunes or nothing (because it’s not gon hurt your pocket if I still listen to music I already got. I’m just saying. “Forever” and “Superhuman” still make my ears happy. Wait, I was going somewhere with this).
Anywho… In spite of that, I still haven’t gone hard on you (apart from the time I roasted your bowtie). I’ve left it to the rest of the world to roast you endlessly. But it seems you’re committed to perpetually making bad decisions. A couple of weeks ago, you sang the national anthem at the Mosley-Mayweather boxing match and I just shook my head. I don’t think your publicist gives a damb about you because the jokes wrote themselves. I mean, really. It was just too easy. The LAST place you need to be is anywhere people jack up each other in the face. THE ABSOLUTE LAST.
I’ve even ignored the many roast-worthy moments you’ve had where you’ve literally threw public tantrums to whine about the radio stations that weren’t playing your music and the stores that refused to shelf your albums.
Last night, you got on Twitter talmbout a certain blogger who shall not be named. No really. I can’t say her name. She’s like beetlejuice. Say it 3 times and she just may appear at your door. Nope. Not me. Hint: rhymes with: “ninja toes.” *runs away*
Anywho, you catch yourself going in on her and this was the point where I just wanted to tell you to log off. Twitter. Your browser. Your user account. Then your computer. Just press ctrl, alt, delete. You’re going against someone who you know fights dirty. Getting into a fight with her is like fighting with that girl who hides a razor under her tongue at all times. She is not the one. In fact, I don’t care. Say what you’d like about anybody. BUT then you went on to tweet…
“you so black u gotta wear white gloves to eat chocolate” and “when u were little all the kids hated playin hide and seek wit you…. unless u opened your eyes and showed teeth”
REALLY? The dark skin jokes. You just had to go there? They weren’t even GOOD. They weren’t witty, clever or even remotely funny. Plus, what first dozens website did you copy those weak jokes from? Did you learn nothing from last time you had japper jaws on Twitter and shut down your account (which was @mechanicaldummy)? I’m sure some of those fans you’re always touting you love so much are also dark.
You know what? I’ont gibbadamb enough to continue. Chris, you need a mentor, some prayer and a timeout. Someone needs to tell you to go sit in the corner and reassess your lifespace. You’ve just been excelling at bad decision-making. Get some introspection going about yourself. Consider getting a new team around you too, because word on the street is that your publicist is quite rude and ridiculous. Get it together, C.Breezy. Just… get it together.
Yours in extreme side-eyedom,
If y’all wrote a letter to CBreezy, what would you address it as? (i.e. Dear Chris Brown… Log off. Or Dear Chris Brown… Fire your publicist). Or are y’all just sick of him?