I’m listening to Miami Sound Machine’s “Bad Boys,” the extended horn version, trying to find the words to describe the chaos wrought by Jaguar Wright following P. Diddy’s raid.
Yesterday, I put a hold on the k-dramas, food vlogs, “Quantum Leap,” and IG scrolling to jump into another rabbit hole left by her no-holds-barred celebrity drops.
At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of her. She’s intense. Then, as I settled in to watch some more, beyond the scandalous gossip, felt a wave of serious deja-vu.
Was she the guardian angel watching over me all my life? Or a residue? I always thought she was a he, but definitely black and definitely a no-nonsense type, patiently keeping back a few secrets for my benefit.
The rhythm in the way she talks vaguely mirrors mine when I am really pissed and about to explode. When she really gets going, stand back.
One by one, like a machine gun taking out targets, Wright knocked down idol after idol after idol, celebrities I took for granted as a part of pop culture growing up. I didn’t like them all, but I didn’t think they were (almost) all bad.
Will Smith?!
Sidney Poitier????
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