Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Nick Cannon's Inner Monologue Needs Some Work

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Say you're Nick Cannon. You got Eminem calling out your wifeypoo Mariah Carey saying she's a trick or a stalker or whatever the hell he feels like. What would your solution to this problem be? Take the high road and not even respond? Wait until you've thought of a really great comeback that would make even Slim Shady blush? Dress like a ninja, sneak into Slim's room at night and take pictures of him sleeping with Teddy Ruxbin before beating his ass sensless with a pair of nunchucks? Or maybe you'd decide on none of the above and instead write a novela on your blog refering to one of the world's greatest rappers as "Slim Lamey". Yeah, if you're Nick Cannon, you'd obviously do the later. The singer blogged his little 12 year old heart out the other day complaining about Eminem's latest song and how he does not appreciate Eminem's recent rap about Mariah.
Says Cannon, "So as I further examine the track, I hear dude cross the line. He begins to call my wife out of her name! Now as y’all know, I don’t take that type of nonsense lightly. So on some grown man shit I’m instantly like, I got to get at this Lame. I know it’s only entertainment and I’m all for freedom of speech. But I’m from the school of thought where if you are tough enough to talk shit, you got to be tough enough to deal with the consequences that come with tough guy shit talking! Then the little angel on my shoulder said, “No Nicholas, there is no need to play into his negativity. He is just a troubled soul yearning for the lost spotlight. You must be Christ like and turn the other cheek”
In addition to the namecalling, Cannon goes on to drop some knowledge on us about how he has been practicing martial arts for years and is basically the black Bruce Lee. The Punisher!
Now I don't have a problem with either baby Cannon or Eminem, but come on man. If someone talks mad shit about your wife, you've got to come harder than "Slim Lamey". I know that if a bitch dared to try and come correct at my husband I would give them a verbal lashing so bad their ass would be bleeding. And if I couldn't think of something clever at the moment, I wouldn't just go and succumb to verbal diarreah of the mouth. I'd think of something so fantastically insulting that they'd need therapy for years and would be incapible of carrying on an adult relationship for the rest of their days. But that's just me. I guess the angel on my right has gone out for a permanent smoke break.

1 comments:

Susan said...

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Susan

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