Hey homies, remember when hip-hop was cool? When it was the edgiest, most dangerous, most relevant musical genre around? When it was a real instrument of political commentary and social change?
No? Um, me either. Because the horrifying spectacle of Erica Kane electric-boogalooing in a sideways Ed Hardy cap or (even worse) a gold-grilled Cloris Leachman impersonating Flavor Flav has caused me to go into post-traumatic-stress-related memory-suppression mode. I'm suffering from such shock I can barely remember my own name anymore.
See, last night Dancing With The Stars staged its first (and hopefully last) hip-hop routine. Watch now, if you dare:
Really now, did pioneering rap greats like Eazy-E, Jam Master Jay, Biggie Smalls, Tupac Shakur, and Ol' Dirty Bastard give their lives just so an 82-year-old Mrs. Garrett understudy would be free to get all gangsta on prime-TV television? In hot pants?
Please, DWTS producers, do not let his happen again.
- Cloris Leachman