It is Diddy now, right? A smutty brain can only hold so much, you know? Besides, whatever his name was he was downright retarded tonight. And I don’t use that word facetiously.
Here’s what happened in case you missed the pre-show. Diddy steps up to be interviewed, flanked by 2 or 3 fellas, cocky-ass expression planted firmly on his face. The reporter leans in for the first question, at which point one of Diddy’s soldiers grabs the mic and declares that Diddy will be speaking THROUGH HIM.
And so the entire discussion is conducted with D on mute, gesturing occasionally, grooving at certain times, nodding, everything you can think of except speaking.
Look – I’m all for showmanship and bravado, I’m all for playing it like you’re the “unofficial King of New York City”…but what he did was none of those things. What he did was middle school maturity, the kind of thing you see at a third grade party, when the birthday girl plays I’m Queen of the Castle and You’re the Dirty Rascal.
In other words: lame, loser, next, please.