Hampton06

"I would love to model Pam Grier's career, she did action and was able to play strong women." Jwaundace is also a huge fan of Whoopi Goldberg and Alfre Woodard. Her ideal career would allow her to stretch and do varied roles. "I want longevity and quality." She adds, "I've been asked, but I would never be a video model...unless I'm getting residuals," she jokes.

Your thoughts??? Comment Below.

If you ain't heard Kim, you ain't heard nothin'. Feel it.

"Sunshine"


"Access Hollywood"


http://www.myspace.com/iamkimhill

Your thoughts??? Comment Below.

Obama is most definitely the man. He didn't appeal to me when he first hit the national spotlight. The excitement about him being well-spoken didn't quite light a fire for me. Just about everyone I know is articulate. On top of my lack of excitement, I admit, I was a bit frightened by the rabid enthusiasm of some of his supporters. I made someone cry about six months ago when I said that I may be voting for Hilary. His tears made it even harder for me to want to pull a lever for Obama.

It wasn't until just before the primaries started, that I really gave him a listen and realized that he could be a good leader. For about three weeks or so, I admit, I drank the Kool-Aid. By the time the Clinton's used their "plantation politics" in South Carolina, I was almost foaming at the mouth, "Yes We Can!"

Then I realized I'd had a similar feeling before. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It was a feeling of blind, racial solidarity and excitement. I didn't know when I'd had that feeling, but I remembered it was followed by profound disappointment. A few days ago, I was on Bossip.com looking at some picture of Reggie Bush and Kim Kardashian on a date and I suddenly remembered when I'd had that blind, excited, almost crazed feeling before - the O.J. trial.

Now, I am by no means suggesting that Obama has killed, or has the potential to kill anyone, but the emotions surrounding his campaign and O.J.'s trial are similar. Black folks were dancing in the streets and then all of a sudden, collectively there seemed to be a sense of "What did we win?".

I'm still on Team Obama, but no more Kool-Aid for me. He's just a man. I'm afraid if we don't remember that, we're going to be in store for that same post-OJ disappointment.

I've been spring cleaning since this past July. I've been finding things that I have no idea why I saved. The other day though, I found a gem - my Five Star cassette. It's the first one w/ "All Fall Down" and "Let Me be the One". Classic. I actually belong to a Five Star group on Myspace and I've exchanged an email, or two with the members of the group. Yes, I know how wrong that is.

I was thinking, who would win in a battle between Five Star and that other family band supergroup of the 80's - The Jets? "Crush on You" was the hit. There were 17 of them in the group. They're Mormon.

Who wins in a battle?

So, I'm watching Keyshia Cole's reality show and it's like the hood version of ABC's "Brothers & Sisters". I love it. I know, I am breaking the so-called educated, black person code by enjoying the show, but it's well done. It's real. I don't mean "real" in the urban dictionary way. I mean, in terms of the production. I don't feel like I'm watching a bunch of set-ups where conversations look partially scripted.

I love Neffe, Keyshia's sister. In the episode, she's in the street going off on her husband and it's coming from her gut. I can't explain it, but in the middle of her meltdown I thought, "What happened to the Soul Train Awards?" I have no idea where that came from. Maybe, it's because when people act out like that, I don't use the word ghetto, I call it “soulful.” Some how soulful, led to Soul Train, and I realized that I hadn’t heard a peep about the award show.

I mean, I knew things where bad when they filmed the show in what appeared to be the old set of "Video Soul" last year, but the Soul Train Awards can't go away. I’d rather a crappy show, than no show.

Over the years my friends and I have talked about how integration has led to the deterioration of many black communities. Upwardly mobile black folks bounced from black communities as soon as they could. Towns died. Same thing with the Soul Train Awards.

I remember the first year. The Soul Train Awards were revolutionary. The Grammy's didn't always recognize black talent. Much of the problem was that artists were not represented in the academy in great numbers. Sure, the mega stars got attention - Stevie, Michael etc., but R&B and especially "urban contemporary" (remember that term) was largely ignored outside of the "black" categories. The Soul Train Awards filled that void. Where else could you see Alexander O'Neal, Marilyn McCoo and Kool Moe Dee on the stage?

Soul Train Award weekend was like All-Star weekend, with about 89% fewer strippers. Everyone was in town. The Beverly Center mall would look like Atlanta for about three days. It was great. Then it all changed. We overcame. The Grammy's rightfully encouraged younger black artists to get more involved. Things got better; well at least for the Grammy's. The Soul Train Awards lost relevance.

I remember being backstage about seven years ago hearing Mr. Cornelius complaining about how artists showed up to the Grammy's in Versace and to his show in gym clothes. You could see then, that it was fading. We'd moved to the suburbs. The Grammy's were bigger and better. Granted, all the blame can't be placed on the artists and labels, the show didn't grow. The production values were not great. I never understood the need for twelve people being onstage to present one award. The show needed a tune up and a fresh coat of paint.

I think I can nail down the point when the Soul Train Awards pretty much “jumped the shark.” I can sum it up in a word - Ciara. In 1994 Whitney Houston was awarded with the honor of Entertainer of the Year. For her achievements in 2004, Ciara was awarded the same honor.

Yes, she's beautiful and seemingly sweet. I even like her music as long as it isn't live and I'll be the first one in line at the Magic Johnson theater to see her in "Mama I Want to Sing." But c'mon, we all knew the end was near.

Getting back to Neffe, I think that she would be the perfect fit for the Soul Train Awards. Keyshia's show was a hit. Hell, I say let Keyshia, Neffe and her mama host the show. The ratings would go through the roof, advertisers would come back and it would inject some much-needed life back into the show. An even better reason to have them is that they're survivors. If they can go through what they've been through and survive, maybe it'll inspire Don and company to do the same. Sure, we all love the suburbs, but it feels good to go back to the hood every now and then too.

"House of Payne" wins for best comedy series at the National Association for the ADVANCEMENT of Colored People Image Awards! Advancement? Image?


I CAN'T.

First Maxine Waters and the Civil Rights Posse dissing Obama and now this?!? I'm going to see if Al Jolson's estate wants to pitch a show with me to the CW. Image Awards here I come!

"Today I sketched the preliminary plans for a large country house which will be erected in one of the most beautiful residential districts in the world. . . . Sometimes I have dreamed of living there. I could afford such a home. But this evening . . . I returned to my own small, inexpensive home . . . in a comparatively undesirable section of Los Angeles. Dreams cannot alter facts; I know . . . I must always live in that locality, or in another like it, because . . . I am a Negro." - Paul Revere Williams (American Magazine article, "I am Negro" 1937)

Paul Revere Williams (1894-1980) was a celebrated architect and an African American -- a combination that few of his contemporaries imagined possible. By proving that it was possible, and doing so over a career spanning 50 years, Williams earned a special place in the history of Southern California architecture.

Williams became a licensed architect in 1921; a year later, at age 28, he started his own firm, aided by commissions from the new Flintridge development north of Pasadena. By this time he was a member of Los Angeles’s first City Planning Commission, one of many federal, state and local boards and commissions he would serve on. He called it: "Giving back to the community."

In 1923, Williams joined the Southern California chapter of the American Institute of Architects (AIA), becoming the first African American member of the national organization. He would later become the first African American elected to the AIA College of Fellows.

Most of Williams’ business came from well-to-do white clients building homes in Los Angeles, Beverly Hills, Hancock Park, Bel Air, Pacific Palisades, San Marino, Flintridge, Pasadena, and Ojai. There also were occasional commissions within the city’s African American community, including the Second Baptist Church, Connor-Johnson Mortuary and, in 1925, the 28th Street YMCA, the city’s first YMCA for "colored boys and young men." Williams incorporated likenesses of Frederick Douglass and Booker T. Washington in the building’s façade.


Sensitive to clients who might feel uncomfortable sitting next to him, Williams perfected the skill of drawing upside down. This enabled clients review his designs right-side-up as he sketched them from across the table.

During World War II, Williams served as a Navy architect. He also designed the interiors of the original Saks Fifth Avenue building in Beverly Hills. In the 1960s Williams was an associate architect in the design of new terminal facilities at Los Angeles International Airport, including the futuristic Theme Building with its flying saucer-shaped restaurant.

Ref:KLD Dream Homes

Okay, is it just me, or is Black History Month getting the shaft? I totally forgot about Black History month last year. Sometime in April I looked up and realized that I'd totally missed it. I was pissed. I blame the media. There's no set up anymore. It used to be that in January we'd start getting that McDonald's commercial. You know, the one with the candles. The one with the song "...all he did for peace and freedom aaaand equality." Then we'd start seeing a series of news specials on black history and community calendars filled with events featuring praise dancers and local councilmen.

Instead, McDonald's served us a commercial with a kid "bugalooing" for chicken nuggets.

I know it's late, but for the rest of the month I'll be honoring great moments, events and people in black history. I was going to start with Harriet Tubman, but I watched "Oprah" today. She had the Cosby Kids on. They talked about how impactful the image of the upper-middle class Huxatable family was. It's true, the Cosby Show was dynamic. So sitting there watching Oprah, I decided to shift from Harriet for today. There was only one clear choice as my first black history spotlight. I've actually chosen two people often forgotten in the history books - Angie & Jesse.

Angie and Jesse were trailblazers. They were daytime's first, and dare I say television's first African-American supercouple. "All My Children" was ahead of its time in featuring this complicated and tragic couple. They laid the ground work for Heathcliff & Clair and to a lesser extent Bobby & Whitney (yes, I know they are real people, but they had a reality show). Jesse was a "street kid." Angie was a good girl from a well to do family. I believe that Angie is officially the first "ride, or die" chick in television history. She went along with Jesse as they kidnapped their child for adoption. They went on the run and when they were caught and Jesse arrested, she stood by his side. They were beautiful, committed and in love.

Angie of course was played by the beautiful and talented Debbi Morgan. I loved her from the moment I saw her dimples in and episode of "What's Happenning." I thought that she should have won an Oscar for "Eve's Bayou." Darnell Williams played Jesse. I know I've seen him since "All My Children". I remember watching something and going, "That's Jesse." Either way, I think most actors would kill to be remembered for something as opposed to a list of anonymous credits.

So if you get a moment to take time from your busy day. Take a moment and give thanks to Angie and Jesse. Where would you be had they not been?

I hate holiday travel, especially Christmas. I hate the lines. I hate the families who didn't get seats all together who now need you to move from your perfectly planned window seat. I hate the people who keep putting their ID's away before they get through all of the security.

I admit. I sometimes give the "Please don't talk to me look." I usually reserve it for someone who keeps leaning over and stepping out of line, wanting desperately to engage someone in a conversation about how slow things are going. "Stand still," is what I'm usually thinking.

This year, I had a huffy, puffy impatient woman standing next to me. I just looked over her head as she almost imploded due to the slow movement of the baggage check line. Then something strange happened; a calm presence in the form of a small, but solid, beautiful black woman appeared. She was happy; not in that annoying way, but more like someone who just got a surprise call from an old friend. In almost an instant, she was able to calm "huffy lady" down.

I thought she looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. She talked about how she was having the best time of her life and that after working her butt off for many years; she was now living her dreams. She said her name was Sharon. Sharon? She said she was a singer. Sharon? Singer? I looked at her. I thought that I knew who she might be. I wanted to ask, but L.A. programs you not to do that. It's not cool. I left it alone.

I get to my gate and there she is again. She's on my flight. I get to my seat and she sitting next to me! Well, not really, but that sounds better. She's actually sitting right in front of me. I had to ask, "Are you Sharon Jones, of Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings?" She beamed, "That's me." "Omigod, you're great," I screeched.

She was very cool. I told her that I'd stumbled onto her after hearing Amy Winehouse, just prior to Amy, becoming AMY. She talked about Amy. She was kind. She said that Amy was cool about giving her recognition. I decided to be kind too. I didn't want to offend, but since discovering Sharon, it's made me think of the days when white artists would cover "race" records. Amy's hot, but you know what I'm saying.

She talked about how her skin tone was a factor in her not reaching the heights she could have earlier in her career. She was told that she was too dark. They told her she was too old at the ripe age of 25. That's enough to make weaker folks quit, but she kept on and now she's getting the shine she deserves (albeit, not five Grammy's). The truth is, God works it out how he has too. Amy's success has certainly help put the spotlight on Miss Sharon.

She has six tracks on Denzel's "The Great Debaters" soundtrack and a new CD dropped this fall. So, if you've worn out Amy's CD, give Sharon a listen. She's not only a great musician...she's also down to earth and nice to antsy people in airport security lines.

http://jezebel.com/346785/sharon-jones-amy-winehouse-aint-got-nothin-on-me
http://www.mtv.com/news/articles/1567453/20070820/jones_sharon.jhtml
http://www.daptonerecords.com/sharonjonesandthedapkings.html

Remember Michael Jackson carrying Emmanuel Lewis down the red carpet to the Grammy's? Those were the days. I’m not quite sure how he got away with doing that, or how Emmanuel let him considering that according to my research little “Webster” was TWELVE years old. That was the best Grammy show ever! (Full disclosure: I was a Michael Jackson fanatic!)

In general award shows seemed cooler and more exciting then. I’d started to think that maybe I’d stopped enjoying them because I’m, um, in my mid-twenties; well, close enough to my mid-twenties. Then it hit me all of a sudden, after watching John Legend selling his Target CD, while sipping Baileys, as Mary J. Blige drove by in a Chevy Malibu with Beyonce in the passenger seat applying L’Oreal. Stars are way too pedestrian now.

Sure. Michael Jackson sold Pepsi. Madonna did too. Whitney sold Diet Coke. That was different. Those commercials were events. Don’t tell me that you didn’t wait around hoping to see Alfonso Ribiero moonwalking into Michael Jackson. Who didn’t shed a tear and light a candle after Michael was carried away in the ambulance after his activator caught on fire?

Nowadays, what do we get? We get Mary J. (who I love), dancing in front of a Chevy Malibu. Can we talk? I work in marketing. The process of going from an idea, to application can and usually is a long and unnecessary ordeal. People got paid big bucks to match Mary J. with the Chevy Malibu. Okay, let’s take a moment and go to the link below, review the Chevy Malibu and then come back to my blog. I’ll wait.

http://www.chevrolet.com/2008malibu/?seo=goo_chevy_malibu

So, are you thinking what I’m thinking? What in the hell does Mary have to do with the Malibu? Not only do I not see her driving one, she’s not even in the age demo for a car like that. At least I could see Whitney actually DRINKING a Diet Coke. That’s not to say it’s not a beautiful car, it is, but c’mon.

There used to be a time when award shows, "Right On" Magazine and red carpets were almost the only places you saw your favorite star. Between the 19,000 entertainment news shows, celebrity reality shows, clothing lines and perfumes, they all seem a little less like artists and more like employees. I get it. They're all rich. I'm poor. They're geniuses. For a moment, I just want to concentrate on the artist. I know the word after "show" is "business". I just think it's gone a little too far. (Hypocrisy check: Yes, I do work in brand marketing, but I really, really do have a soul.) Maybe it's not that it's gone too far. It just seems a little sloppy. If Mary J. was dancing in front of a Lexus, I wouldn't gripe; at least not as much.

You know that John Legend is never gonna just grab his dick and yell, “Suck it bitches!” Not that I would approve of such behavior, but I like my rock/rap/r&b/easy listening stars to feel like they have the freedom to do so. It’ll never happen. John’s in the club. He’s on tenure track to receive a Grammy Legend Award in about thirty years. Besides, Target wouldn’t approve.

Last year when Verizon, or some other cell phone company went ape-shit because Akon threw some fan from the stage, I was secretly applauding. No, I don’t condone assault. I just felt that Verizon had no business endorsing him in the first place if they weren’t aware of his work. One listen of his music should’ve given them a clue that an incident may be in their future. In a way it was liberating. He decided not to be owned. Granted, he may face civil charges, but that’s a whole different subject.

The show tonight was fine enough. Kanye was great. Amy Winehouse managed to stay on her feet. Jerome was still holding the mirror for Morris Day - which was kinda cool. John Fogerty looked like he was dipped in formaldehyde. Alicia Keys sang twice; once was enough. Beyonce cut her hair. Fergie over sang. Herbie Hancock won! Solange (wikipedia her) presented. John Mayer continued his quest to be the new Eric Clapton. Stevie Wonder wore a Nehru collar.

Oh, and Wanda Sykes urged us to go to Applebees.

GRAMMY site: http://grammys.com/
YBF: http://theybf.com/2008/02/11/50th-grammy-awards/#more-1786

Yes, I know, black folks come in all shapes, sizes and tones. I love them all. It's strange though, how in commercials that most black people (except, most notably, the Honey Bunches of Oats lady) have that "look at me, I might be mixed with something look." You know, the Scary Spice (early days)/Corbin Bleu look. Casting agents are obsessed. It's not even a lightskin/darkskin thing. It's just the hair.

I admit, somtimes when I see children with tangled, Sideshow Bob hair, I want to chastise the parents and yell, "We get it!" and then take the child to the nearest barber shop.

Two of my friends coined a phrase "poodle babes". A conversation may go like this:

Hampton06: Did you get a callback for that audition?
Friend: No, it was just me and twelve poodle babes. I should have wet my hair.

Now, I love the look. I just feel the ratio of poodle to non-poodle is off. How come no one ever has a crimped french roll in a Yoplait commercial? It just doesn't seem fair.

Nobody does it better. Even on "Fame," when she only had that shoulder move, she was still the shiznit! Watching the "Fame" clip made me realize that I need to give "High School Musical" a break. I used to be tuned in every Saturday. Does anyone else remember the live "Fame" concerts???

These pics hit my inbox about a year, or so, ago. I think they came from one of my college buddies. There were the requisite comments about how 'ghetto' and tacky the wedding looked. Honestly, I thought the pics were great. They look happy. They're getting married. That's a step up from most folks nowadays. Besides, it's not like this wedding was themed. I'm all for making the best of what you have. I know a lot of folk who should've been getting married in the backyard of their apartment building, instead of going into debt. Hey maybe that's another reason why they're so happy. They're not going to be paying for this for the next ten years.



There's an excercise we do in writing groups where you look at a picture and then write a story based on the picture, free associating for about five minutes. Look at the pics. Write a story off the top of your head about how they met,
or the honeymoon.

Have fun!

Picture it. East Orange, NJ, 1986. It was a small high school in what I would later learn was a small town. The town was on the upside of the downslide. At one time living in East Orange meant something. For black folks moving in the late 60's and 70's, it meant that you had arrived. By 1986, it was a different story. Being in East Orange meant that you couldn't afford leave.

Don't get me wrong. It wasn't an awful place. It was actually pretty amazing. I don't think I realized it then. East Orange circa '86 would be "utopia" to me now. It had an edge no doubt, but it had an energy. I lived in the neighboring town of Orange. It was essentially the same as East Orange, except back then the difference sometimes felt like being from Manhattan vs. Long Island. I mean Naughty By Nature was from East Orange. Whitney Houston too. Nobody was from Orange.

I did go to high school in East Orange. There were three schools. East Orange High, Clifford J. Scott and a little school of about 400 students called Essex Catholic. I went to Essex Catholic.

It was a Catholic Preparatory high school. All boys. East Orange at that time was no different than any slowly decaying urban town in America. There were drugs. There was fighting. Folks got robbed for Pumas. There were Dominican mini-markets - on EVERY corner. There were kids playing kick ball in the street breaking windows. There were girls playing double dutch. We wore goose down coats and lots of gold. We carried boom boxes and danced in the streets. It was magical. It was tough sometimes, but you learned how to survive.

In my little world at Essex Catholic, we were shielded, even if for only a few hours a day from all of that. Where my world outside of school was hip-hop. My world in school was for the most part, smooth R&B mixed with touch of pop. I'd lived in a world where Puerto Ricans, Dominicans and blacks lived in the same space, with no issues. We were all in my young mind, black, or at least not much different than me.

My parents had me watching documentaries and reading books on black history, American history, from the time that I could comprehend. My birthday is May 19th, the same as Malcolm X. I read his biography the first time in junior high and several times since. And until 1986 I thought I had it pretty much figured out.

In my little smooth R&B world, there were no metal detectors. They had them at the other high schools. There weren't any dropouts. The other schools had those too. There were no gangs, or drugs. There was barely any fighting. We wore blazers and ties. Seniors were allowed to wear those old "Happy Days" style letterman sweaters. That was considered casual. There were mostly black kids. Kids from middle-class, upper and lower, families. There were Caucasians, Italians, Haitians, Jamaicans, Portuguese, Puerto Ricans, Spanish kids etc. We all got along, or so I thought. Then came Howard Beach. I heard nigger for the first time from someone's mouth in real life and it wasn't from someone white. It was a Spanish kid.

Immediately following the ass-whooping he received at the hands of a couple people who shall remain nameless, as they are probably doctors, lawyers, or politicians by now; my world changed. Racist white people used that word, or so I thought. I took a step back and realized that the Spanish kid who talked about how "the niggers probably deserved it" didn't look like my neighbors who spoke Spanish. He essentially had white skin. He had light eyes. I realized he didn't look like my Puerto Rican, or Dominican neighbors. Catholic schools are citywide. They aren't neighborhood schools. Kids come from all over the county. Even though I was only 10 blocks or so away from neighborhood, I realized that I'd entered a new world.

I'd entered a world where people of Spanish descent looked down on black people. A world where Jamaicans and Haitians were at odds. Italians where looked down on by Anglo-Saxon white folk. Somehow, through all of that Puerto Ricans and blacks remained tight. There was solidarity.

I met my first Mexican when I moved to LA. I had no reference point, opinion, or thoughts about Mexicans. My dad worked for a while as a border patrol agent. On occasion, I would hear conversations about his work and how it sometimes took a toll on him. He told me a story once about having deported a woman, who decided to leave her child behind to be in America. His heart broke for that family. I felt their pain too. He never specifically said it was a Mexican woman, but I related that struggle to them and that was as much of a connection I'd had to that culture.

You never know why something happens in your life. I have to say that I am happy that I had my 1986 'nigger moment' with my Spanish classmate. Had I not, I would have been totally unprepared for the division that exists here between black folks and brown folks here in LA. I'm not just talking about in gangs. I have Mexican people in my life, friends co-workers, etc. I relate to each on an individual basis, but there isn't that commonality that I had with my Puerto Rican friends growing up. I thought there would be something. I thought there would be some connection. I mean, they are for the most part as dark as I am. Surely, I thought, we must be able to relate.

I have to say. Since being in LA, I've gotten that look, you know that look; the look that is usually associated with certain white people showing disdain for your presence. The thing is, I haven't really gotten that look from white folks. I've gotten it from Mexican people on the regular. I thought it was just me until I started speaking to my friends. They all have had the same experience.

I call it "brown envy". I define "brown envy" as the jealousy between colored people over who's superior. I admit it. I've developed touch of "brown envy" over the years. I've seen funding for African-American health and education programs decline. Black History month is an after thought. If you watch a TV show, that one slot for a colored co-star doesn't go to us anymore. You can get a Latina who meets the criteria of being colored...and still look white. Once I realized that I had "brown envy" I decided to check it. It's not useful. If figured that feeling that way was no better than being like the kid in my class who got knocked out. I thought I had it under control. Then came Super Tuesday.

I was stunned by the overwhelming support Hillary Clinton received from Latino voters. It felt like a rejection. It felt like they were saying "nigga please" to Obama and to me. I got nervous and a bit claustrophobic as the exit polling came in. I felt outnumbered and suffocated. One news commentator mentioned that there were more Latino voters in California than total voters in the state of Colorado. All I could think is that we've got to close the borders. Maybe I'll vote for Romney. I talked to several people black and white. It was xenophobic pandemonium in full blast.

Then enlightenment came from an unlikely place - Snoop Dogg. I flipped channels and ran across his video for a song called "Vato". I couldn't even make out what was being said, but the imagery of one side being Latin brothers and sisters and on the other Blacks. It made me think about the election. The video is clearly meant to show the unity that can and should exist. I suddenly realized that my vote for Obama didn't mean that I hate white people. I just preferred him as a candidate. I had, as well as many others, taken the Latino vote a bit too hard.

Sure there's some healing and some education and outreach that can be done to make people less suspect of each other. At some point I'd like to believe that brown folks of all races realize that there's no way to the top when we're fighting each other at the bottom.

East Orange is a much different place now. Crime and drugs have taken much of the life from the city. There's still a heartbeat. There's still hope. I don't know that I want to go back there, but it would sure be nice to find that place where we I could find that "utopia". Find that life, that feeling I had before Howard Beach. It sure was nice.