In My Write Mind

I cringe each time. But still, I watch. Do the opposite of what Dr. Maya told black women to do. I sink, not rise. I admit, I watch it every week. Not for the entertainment value, but for the amount of devaluing that will most certainly take place.

I watch because it claims to be reality — but it’s not even close to being mine. I watch just to see how far they will take it. How over the top. How low. How crass. How crude.

I watch. And take notes, too. How come? Because I need to. I need to see the other side of being a black man. The buffoonish side. The scripted side. The surreal side. The processed-for-the-camera side. Yup, the anti-Will side (wait, his real name is William, isn’t it? Help.me.).

And that … is why I watch … “Flavor of Love.” Oy.

I refuse to sit here and describe the show for those that don’t know. I’m sure you’ve heard. Sure you’ve seen the ads, or at least caught a glimpse of it by now. It’s going into its fourth week over on VH1. Plus, they show it damn near every day. And really … it speaks for itself.

What it says, I’m not so sure.

What I will say is that it’s fascinating to watch, to try and comprehend just how many people are in on the joke. How many people have their tongues firmly implanted inside their cheeks. How many licks it takes to get to the middle of this mess.

I watch in amusement. I watch in sheer horror. I watch in mock astonishment as twenty women “throw themselves” at this guy. And I watch as VH1 exploits the participants — regardless of WHY these people joined on — and head straight to the bank.

Wait. You didn’t know that this mess was fake?!?!?!? You didn’t know that it’s more scripted than a beginning-of-the-week-Hollywood read-through?!?!?! Then clearly we’re watching two different shows. The women are alllll plastic. See-through, even. Transparent in their tendencies and even moreso in their motives.

The fake tears, the over-acting, the slight cringe you see in their movement each time Flav gets close to them? Yeah, the network didn’t even bother to get good actresses for this show. LOL Each week as he attempts to corner one of the “ladies,” so as to put the moves on them, you can literally see their skin begin to crawl. So much editing must be done in order to get a shot of them actually being interested in anything he’s saying. In order to get a shot of them sitting still as he moves in for the kill.

I sit there aghast. Enthralled. And ummm … envious.

Yup … envious.

Of Flav? Hellous Nous. Of VH1, of course. Envious because I didn’t think of this first. Envious like I was of Bravo this past summer when Be.ing Bobb.y Br.own debuted and I wasn’t in on that cash cow.

Yeah … I’m envious because, unlike those two networks, I wasn’t able to cash in on the exploitation and tomfoolery that is “Flavor of Love.”

So I sit. And I watch. And take notes. To see what comes next. To see what I can take from this show and use in order to pad my pockets. Sure, I throw up in my mouth each time Flav removes his shirt … or each time one of the “ladies” does the fake-cry thing when they’re not given a clock at show’s end. I can’t help it. It kinda makes me sick.

Who knew that being the anti-Will would be worth so much?!?!? Sure, Flav will NEVER wind up with any of the “ladies” from the show. The script says so. LOL But sometimes, while watching, you really get the idea that he thinks he will get with one of them. Like, he’s sincere about it. While they sit on their beds, going over their lines and practice sitting completely still as he feels them up in hot tubs or in the back of limos or at … Red Lobster. Oy.

All in the name of fame. All in the name of exposure. All in the name of money.

It’s all processed. And it’s cheesy. And that’s fine. Because I’ll still watch. Every week. Just to see what I can take from this “Flavor” to create my own one day. One that will be just as cheesy … and just as profitable in the process.

Pray for me. LOL