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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

“Hip-Hop Honors?” Not So Much

If there’s something I can take with me from watching VH1’s poor excuse of a rap event “Hip-Hop Honors,” it’s that I really need to step my FILA game up. I’ve been thinking about bringing that shit back, but I actually need to put more effort into doing so.

But if I wanted to make a post about the gear game on the show, I’d simply ask my overlords for a piece of bandwidth next to the albino from Strong Arm Steady and the faux-Arnold Drummond over at The Evil Collector. So I’ll try to keep this one as hip-hop oriented as possible.

VH1 has been trying to “blacken” up their shows for a few years now, perhaps due to the fact that they can reel in the pickaninny crowd by disguising minstrel shows as thought-provoking television better than BET can nowadays. I’m not gonna front like I’ve not been caught up in that shit as well; as much as it pains me to admit, I watched my fair share of Flavor Of Love episodes every now and then, if only for the donkey that was on that mannish-looking broad with the keloids. And the first Hip-Hop Honors was always something that caught my eye, even though I felt that the shit was about as relevant as a Razzie award.

But after watching last night’s all-extra-fucked-up incarnation, I’m pretty convinced that I could have pulled a better show out of my ass. In between the retarded promos for Irv Gotti’s and Salt-N-Pepa’s shows, I was treated to a plethora of bullshit under the premise that they were “honoring” the innovators of the past, which probably would have been more convincing had they honored a woman who actually deserved the proverbial knob-shine like, I don’t know, Roxanne Shante or some shit. The fact that they had to pull Missy out of nowhere is further proof of how glaringly insignificant women rappers are in rap nowadays.

But adding Missy to the mix wasn’t entirely as awful as the poor camera work, shoddy acoustics and overabundance of, well, dreaded n-word moments Hip-Hop Honors had on display. True, Lupe Fiasco flubbed two lines from “Electric Relaxation.” But the hubbub over his fuck-up was kind of unwarranted, especially given that the first 30 minutes of the damn thing was just one incomprehensible mess, what with Tweet (who used to be the prototype, but not so much anymore), T-Pain and the pork chop sammich mann himself Ne-Yo skipping lines altogether. Really now, how hard is it to remember a line from "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)?" No wonder I kept flipping between that shit, a game of Madden and WWE Raw.

If VH1 really wants to put on a show that properly honors hip-hop’s greatest change makers, they shouldn’t look to those same braintrusts that created those dumbass lists for MTV earlier this year. Leave it to them and they’re gonna start inducting space wasters like Red Hot Lover Tone or Master P, even though the latter did grace my adolescent ass with this back in the day.

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