First, I have to say, normally when I do my dance routines (no Boo, not Dancing with the Stars. I’m older than that. My routine career began with my pre-school presentation of “Brand New Day” from The Wiz with highlights that include strong choreography for Prince’s “17 Days,” The Time’s “Ice Cream Castles” and the major highlight–”I Can Only Be Me” from School Daze. Holla at ya girl for parties, k?), I am not wearing a wig.

Why is Janet Jackson sporting a hot, itchy, horse ‘n’ mane Diana Ross “Mahagony” wig while doing her 1-2 step?

Is this thing striped? Is she Cruella DeVille? WHERE IS MY PUNKY BREWSTER JANET? Remember the one with the red braids sprouting out of her head like she was an extra in Fraggle Rock? This is a disgrace. She is…gasp, a Vegas act. I have to release her like the Vikings, into a blaze of glory out into the sea of mainstream copycatdom. There was a time, children, when Janet was a pioneer. Now she just loves midgets and posing for various random who cares photos. There was a time when I didn’t even notice that I hated her voice. Now, she is telling her pinky and thumb all about her desire to look like Gwen Stefani’s black mother. And I am listening. Hold on, Janet…(insert dial tone).

On to something more constructive before I get a breathless baby calling me and telling me about how hurtful the above remarks are to Baby Janet Jackson (my number is unlisted, JDJ, and you should’ve thought about that before you became a star in my public eyeball).

I saw a really great short at Outfest Film Festival in LA. No, I’m not gay. Neither was half the audience. Times are changing, children. We are busting out of our selfishness and reappearing in other people’s selfishness! ANYWAYS, The DL Chronicles. Have you seen it? You should. Why? What if our beloved Carrie Bradshaw were in fact a black man writing about other black men on the DL with their sexuality? What if you actually gave a shit about the story this time and it wasn’t some kind of chitlin circuit circus romp through cliche land? You would have “The DL Chronicles.” Click the link, peoples, it’s real.

This particular episode was about a very delicious yellowish man who fell for a very delicious shorty rock dark skinned younger man. The catch? Older man is on the downlow (please feel free to sing R. Kelly’s “Down Low” here since it’s caught in my head). In about 30 minutes, they go through some entertaining ups and downs, including a mysterious young woman and….my friend Lynn! Now, don’t think I’m biased because Lynn is my friend. In fact, she’s my friend because she’s talented. I don’t have it in me to lie to untalented people and call them my friend. With Lynn, I think the short has a great cast, a very sound story and was a BIG hit at The Egyptian Theater (that’s big shit if you don’t live here in LA—it’s no rinky dinky home movie, grandma popcorn establishment) to a practically sold out audience of a lot of people. I don’t know how many for sure but it was a whole lot. And I must tell you I went in, expecting the worst (you know how us “folks” do sometime—not at all). Please go to the link and see when and how you can see this very necessary series.

What else can I say?

Oh! I’ve finished the first draft of my newest screenplay, “The Brooklyn Bubble.” It’s the story of an ordinary man and a super star, hiding out in Fort Greene. It’s out for reading (that means I’ve bugged all my friends who say they will read my stuff—guinea pigs if you will—and have stalked them about reading it). It’s a romantic comedy (I hope). And though I feel like I gave birth with that last period on the last page, something tells me I’ll be revising soon…such as the life of the writer.

My name T. Tara, Ms. Turk if you’re nasty! (Or Turk-Vincent one day which is a lot more to stay and maybe not as nasty but, in the long run, better for the children we expect to have one day.)