My favorite word in the English language—next to “alacrity” (obviously!)—is “begat.” It’s more of a honking noise than a word, made doubly fun by the fact that the only time I heard it was as a kid in that Holy Week reading about Ezekiel begatting Shlomo et al. Apparently in biblical days there was begatting going on all over town, because it’s “begat” like 38 times, followed by the silliest names you’ve ever heard. Followed by Cadbury Eggs. Easter is truly magical.
Oh but there’s a new sheriff in town, a new messiah if you will: Flavor Flav.
The Surreal Life begatted Strange Love, which begatted two seasons of Flavor of Love, which begatted I Love New York, which I think we all agree is the best, most debaucherous half hour on TV today.
Fact: Jesus associated with untouchables and prostitutes.
Fact: Flav hangs with New York.
Fact: Jesus had many enemies.
Fact: Flav had Public Enemy.
Fact: Jesus carried a heavy cross.
Fact: Flav carries a heavy clock.
Fact: Jesus preached that the greatest gift of all is love.
Fact: Flav gave us the greatest gift of all: Flavor of Love.
Fact: Vying for Jesus’ attention caused Mary Magdalene and someone else. (Martha? I forgot my Bible today, oddly enough) to argue.
Fact: Vying for Flav’s attention caused otherwise reputable young women to hock loogies, thrown stilettos and pull out each other’s weaves.
I could go on, but I think you get the picture. And while Jesus might have had Jehosiphat and Jebiddiah, the Bible is far from a lock on winning the having-people-with-funny-names battle. In fact, Jesus was sorely—and mysteriously—lacking in the “hanging out with people named Deelishis and Hoopz” department.
I watched the I Love New York reunion show last night at the gym, and it is awesome. Imagine a woman, or “woman” as the case may be (I remain unconvinced, VH1. Why?
See right. That's why.) who was raised in some sort of highway toll booth, sustained on only sass, push-up bras and toxic levels of eyeshadow. At the age of 24 (yes, she claims to be 24) she was let out of her booth long enough to attempt to mate with several young men who have facial hair that says “I’m not now—nor in the foreseeable future will I be—gainfully employed.” Also there’s a random accountant from Boston who wandered in. He literally got knocked out in on earlier show, which got him kicked off. New York needs a fighter in case she runs out of shoes to hurl in the club. Bitch is hardcore
The woman who unleashed New York on the world goes by the name Sister Patterson, presumably to avoid being associated with her daughter. Clearly, though, she’d schooled her youngster in the ways of Disco Ball Eyelids. (Trademarked)
There was a dispute from a gentleman caller about how genuine her faith was, questioning if it was just for the cameras. (A legit question, given her daughter’s general demeanor and STD to IQ ratio. Then they cut to a clip of Sister Patterson praising Jesus like she was at a revival. Case closed. “I will praise him wherever and whenever I want to!” she bellowed, missing the Jesus forest for the trees.
Next up were two meatheads who rode the crest of their fame to start some knockoff Chippendales company. They are suspiciously like the Dog Brothers from that MTV show “Sex in the ’90s.” (Please, MTV and Viacom, if you never do anything else for me, find out what the Dog Brothers and their sin bin are up to now. It’ll make up for “Date my Mom.”) I don’t need to tell you their dancing involved a Greek flag.
Then! They played a clip where the Greek guy said he’d feed his Mom and Ya-ya before New York in some sort of imagined buffet scenario. Unacceptable to Sister Patterson. Then they played a clip of Mom and 80-year-old Ya-ya smoking and saying how they’d kick New York’s ass because their son/grandson was much classier than her.
Then two of the guys, Chance and I forget, so I’m calling him Herpes Simplex discovered they were both from Florida. This is an unacceptable fact in this parallel universe so they were going to get in a fight about it. Here’s my re-creation of the events as they unfolded:
Chance: He know he ain’t be from there. He don’t rep Florida.
Herpes Simplex: I’m what’s really hood. Know how we solve this in Florida?
(Chance begins to take off his glittery sweatshirt, and Herpes Simplex knows this is the international sign for a fight.)
Herpes Simplex: You don’t want none! Go on, hit me.
Chance, however, comes to his senses and puts his clothes back on.
He realizes he’s won the fight of a lifetime: The love of a “woman” called New York.
I really can’t believe I forgot to mention this part yesterday. One of the finalists for New York’s heart was sent to get cleaned up at a salon. They waxed his eyebrows, or as he called them, his unibreezy. 
See right. That's why.) who was raised in some sort of highway toll booth, sustained on only sass, push-up bras and toxic levels of eyeshadow. At the age of 24 (yes, she claims to be 24) she was let out of her booth long enough to attempt to mate with several young men who have facial hair that says “I’m not now—nor in the foreseeable future will I be—gainfully employed.” Also there’s a random accountant from Boston who wandered in. He literally got knocked out in on earlier show, which got him kicked off. New York needs a fighter in case she runs out of shoes to hurl in the club. Bitch is hardcore
When I was but a little Kate, I remember an old white man getting out of his car and screaming at my brother, sister and me for playing with our black friends across the street. It’s something a 26 year old can’t absorb, let alone a five year old. 
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