Sigh. Memories of that golden era where socially conscious black-pride ankh and kufi wearing street poets ruled the concrete coated land. When an acid-washed jean jacket, sideways-cap and infamous clock necklace wearing (lookin-boy) card-carrying member of Public Enemy taught a post-Civil Rights generation to stand up. Though my age consisted of a single digit back then, I still remember.
But what of this generation? Them babies don't remember when the current Flavor of Love/Under One Roof star was once 1/2 of a dynamic duo dedicated to having the urban black experience heard. How could they know when the star known for donning a clock around his neck, has forgotten to ask himself what time it is? I mean, I guess it's easy to get distracted by all the Goddess Yaki tracks weaved atop heads that probably couldn't recite the chorus to "Fight the Power". But the more important question is, does he remember?
It seems a refresher is in order for William Drayton because my man has officially bought into the very hype he told us not to believe. To allow one's hip-hop legend status to be reduced to a legacy that includes three seasons of a reality show involving several women vying for your affections (record deals, screen time, cover of "King" magazine) is insult enough. But to be part of the more injurious half-hour atrocity that is the sitcom "Under One Roof"? To become the star of a sitcom in which you play a jovially ignorant ex-con and deliver EVERY LINE LIKE THIS, ending with "Yeah Boyyyyeee", is just saddening. And watching the nearly half a century old Flavor Flav become a mere caricature of himself is depressing.
It's time to reevaluate, boyyyee.
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