An all-new season of "Run's House" is upon us.
I must say, I'm very surprised they decided to continue this program in the wake of Justine's miscarriage. I thought they'd want their privacy respected on the heels of such family tragedy. I was wrong. Instead, as usual, Big Chief Reverend J. Runbone insists that black folk witness his "strength" in the face of adversity and implores that we use his televised life as a template for quality living.
Yep. That sounds just about where we left off. As it reads in Proverbs, "ain't shit new under the sun." (Direct quote from Pimp Solomon)
Leading into the impending horror of the miscarriage, we observe a pretty normal day at Rev. Run's. Russy still needs his barbiturates; Jojo is still a nine-year old trapped in Young Puffy's body; and Diggy still doesn't know what a Queens-style ass whippin feels like, hence their caged-baboon behavior in the presence of their 9-and-a-half month pregnant (step)mother.
Mama Mexico always told us that if we heathen-hollered and stomped around the house while cake was baking, the shit would drop... and the red pump shoe would drop into an ass or three.
After Rev puts the gully talk to Huey, Dewey and Louie, Justine informs him of the internal yearning that can only be fulfilled by going to Hooters for wings. (I hear you, Just.) As soon as the suggestion left her mouth, I leaned to the edge of the couch to hear Run's retort. Needless to say, the flurry of "Thou shalt not go to Hooters," "People don't go in there to see food," "This collar would burst into flames," and the new classic "Whaddayagonnado?" left a nigga in stitches.
With that said, I could only hope to be so lucky as to have a woman who wants to drag me to Hooters when I'm 45.
We then awkwardly and painfully cut to the post-miscarriage scene at the hospital with a drugged-out Justine, Reverend Run, Sistah Souljah and Bishop Teddy Pinned-Her-Ass-Down. I remember when this all came to pass. Very shortly after a complete season of cracking on this household to within an inch of its life, I was shaken up to learn that Just lost the baby. I also remember them, of course, asking for privacy as they tried to move on as a family. What I now don't understand is why they still had the MTV film crew on-hand well after the baby had passed away.
I guess Big Russell is still a firm believer in the age-old principle of "waste not, want not." Brother/Executive Producer isn't on hand for the celebration or mourning, but he's probably having a post-Yoga session placenta shake in the back of a smoky Maybach.
For shame.
With the wisdom of de lawd, Run rallies his family and perpetually charges them to exhibit strength. While we all define strength differently, especially in the face of such adversity, Run apparently believes that strength is the maintenance of a hardened, unfazed exterior. Jojo (for once) doing his homework, repressing his true feelings and acting hard is not a display of strength, but the opposite. To encourage this across the board will more than likely incur fiercer emotional turmoil and heartbreak the likes of which these youngsters may later be devoured by.
The kids are already PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) enough. Shit is just slippin out of their mouths left and right. Vanessa and Angela have Vietnam flashbacks of being yelled at to wake up like nappy-headed hoes. Niggas is seeing pancakes with cowboy boots on. If the baby didn't break the proverbial camel's back, repression just might.
You thought Russy was a handful now? He'll be dropkicking Playstation 3s by the third episode. I promise.
The big cliffhanger is that they plan to adopt. If they want a child, that is a fine way to bring one into their home. There may be health risks involved with natural birth that they want to avoid. I fully embrace, endorse and agree with Run's underlying theme of being appreciative for the family that remains. I hope, however, that they don't try to use their adopted child as a means of sweeping this tragedy under the Persian rug in the living room.
The mound would lie conspicuously aside the elephant.
Oh yeah. Swarthy Asians are flying off the shelves this spring. Angelina just caught a nice two-for-five in Cambodia, son.
Also, I didn't hear the Don Imus comments until yesterday afternoon. We will most certainly address that entire situation shortly.
