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October 31, 2005

R. Fugly

R. Kelly has apparently decided to conceptualize a new version of his "hit" urban opera -- "Trapped In A Baghdad Closet."


[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

I assume the finger guns are there because he couldn't whip out his Beretta, as is his wont, and wave it around haphazardly while urging us all to handle things "Christian-like." And presumably his lawyers forced him to go into Stealth Wang mode by camouflaging his crotch, rendering it naturally invisible so that no under-18s might see it and feel the threat of a golden shower raining down upon them. I'd suggest that he thank them for their ingenuity, and for them getting him through all the allegations and whatnot, but R. already took care of that in the liner notes for TP3: Reloaded, in which he expressed heartfelt gratitude for his attorneys' belief in him -- right after he thanked God, his four trainers, several gyms, the record people, some family, some friends, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, Ray Ban, Neil Patrick Harris, the closet, Andrew Lloyd Webber, porcelain bathtubs, and the cast and crew of The Englishman Who Went Up A Hill And Came Down A Mountain.

But, it's nice to see R. has come out of that period on top of his game, and not at all looking like he emerged from the aforementioned Closet of War having lost a ground battle with his own trousers. In fact, he may be trying to help us. By cleverly shoving on cutoffs and ankle cuffs over some trousers  he was already wearing, R. may in fact be trying to rush the hideous dresses-over-jeans trend to its natural conclusion: jeans over jeans. God, is there nothing this man won't do for us? He trapped himself in a closet to teach us all about relationships, and how complicated they are, and how if you come home and a phone rings in the vicinity of your closet, you should immediately check in the bathroom, the shower, under the bed, and in the dresser drawer before actually checking said closet, and how firing off a bullet in the air can really shut a bitch up, and how a woman shouldn't ride her husband too aggressively in the sack because it puts him in severe danger of getting a groin cramp, and how no matter how much needless exposition exists in your life, you will NEVER know who the hell Roxanne is, so just give up already.

The sheer number of life lessons that have come from him are spectacular. So forget the fugging, guys. Embrace him instead. I hope you too will go out and wear ankle cuffs and cutoffs over your pants. It's the least you can do for a man who's only trying to help. To quote the genius himself, "Let the R. do his thing," and if you can't, then "go get a goddamn job and leave [him] alone."

Posted by Heather at 06:18 AM | Permalink

 

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