Russell Simmons: ‘Cut Chris Brown Some Slack Like Those Disney Kids Get’
Welcome to the exact moment my white liberal guilt reaches its tipping point.
Russell Simmons has posted an open letter on Global Grind entitled, “Chris Brown: When Fame Snatches Your Freedom,” that is a four page essay on how Chris Brown is essentially a dancing Jesus who deserves a break like all those “Disney kids” get. And I’m using Disney kids in quotes because it’s code for “white people” which is a specious and intellectually bankrupt argument starting with the fact I don’t remember Britney Spears beating a smaller person’s face into a car door. Granted, her children are that age where they steal French fries, the general public has yet to witness such an act. Anyway, here are some excerpts from Russell Simmons’ missive to stop making Chris Brown suffer by forcing him to face responsibilities for his actions. He’s just trying to moonwalk his way to God and sometimes you gotta throw a few chairs through a window to make that happen. That’s in the Bible. (Jumped for length.)
On his dancing:
I know that this young man’s dancing, singing and art are his prayers. Without them, he’s left to deal with a cluttered world in a way that is far too complicated than he imagined when he was a thirteen-year-old kid with a dream of being famous. I am troubled by the people, critics and members of the media who drag Chris away from his art. His freedom is deeply rooted in his artistic expression. It is during those seconds of stillness when you’re dancing that the Christ/Buddha/Allah/Moses inside of you is awakened and comes to power.
Even more on his dancing:
And NO ONE can look deeper inside than the artist, cause you’re working on the inside because you’re lucky enough to see a piece of god in your dancing, a piece of god in your presence, through your songwriting and singing and all your artistic expression.
Something about pancakes. I have no fucking clue:
I am reminded of my brother Rev. Run’s sermon that he tells every time about his breakdown. He was sitting in the bathtub getting his hair cut while he was smoking a joint while he was eating pancakes. And hair was falling in the pancakes and ashes from the joint were falling in the pancakes and the syrup was falling in the tub and he was waiting for the phone to ring from some girl he had met on the road. And he had a brand new Rolls Royce delivered to front of the hotel he was staying in, waiting for him to drive away. Had he been writing a song during that time he’d be okay, but he wasn’t. The things were there, but people were forcing him to deal with the outside when the outside was nothing but sickness. Because the outside is noise and the inside is the spirit. So, you end up eating pancakes in the bathtub.
And now his thesis:
And, you know, Disney kids are allowed a little bit more of a break. Sometimes you have to even feel sorry for them. Not that the media didn’t continue to drive Britney Spears freakin’ crazy. Not that the media doesn’t mess with Miley Cyrus every day. Not that the media doesn’t stalk Lindsay Lohan. I’m just saying, give this man a break. I spoke to him last night for a long time and I know how good of a young man he is. He’s having the same type of struggles that all those other Disney kids have and all the other people who have instant fame. And because of that one regretful incident, no one will give him a break.
Again, for the last fucking time, that “one regretful incident” was smashing a woman’s face in, biting her in the ears and neck, fleeing the scene and then not once issuing a sincere apology about that night, but instead calling anyone “haters” who dares bring it up. Yes, let’s cut that kid a break. Let’s feel sorry for the little shit who couldn’t handle a few questions on a celebrity fellating talk show, so he ripped his shirt off and threw a chair at a window before squaring off with a producer. Clearly, this is the pop-locking Messiah destined to inspire humanity to greatness, but sadly, his darker skin has destined him to a life of facing consequences for his actions. Woe are these times of peril, for the dancing millionaire Christ child’s suffering is many.
(Director’s Commentary: In this passage, I’m more or less suggesting Russell Simmons sexually penetrate his own anus. It’s sort of a subtle message until we got to this part where I say it out loud because I sincerely want his penis to enter his butt. With gusto.)