Why I laughed too hard when Big Boi called Marc Lamont Hill a bitch and fuck The Commish

Warning: The following story is petty and not recommended.

Picture it, Washington, DC, the year is maybe 2012, but maybe it is not. I’d been on twitter for a few years, but I felt like my tweeting was excessive. I was tweeting almost every waking moment of my life and it was taking away from my long-form writing. So…I wrote about it in long-form. I can’t remember the title and that blog is now defunct, but someone at HuffPoLive read it and decided it was interesting enough to have me on to discuss it further.

There was a preliminary conversation and they pretty much asked me the questions about what I wrote about, so I presumed the topic would be something about getting a hold on time spent online, etc. It was fine. My post was honest and that opens you up to a level of criticism and I wasn’t bugged by that.

HPL was pretty new (or perhaps only new to me) so I didn’t know what to expect other than there would be a panel. We get “parked” in a virtual waiting room and the other panelists are nice enough. At some point, I see Michael Chiklis is going to be on the panel, and okay…that’s weird but whatever. (Apparently people would just crash through like the guy on the couch and it’s just whatever. It’s apparently a Wild Wild West frat party at HuffPoLive…I don’t know what the fuck…)

So MLH and The Commish are bantering and I’m just thinking “what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” And I think (this is solely on my potentially faulty sequential recollection) that’s when The Commish talks about his detachment from social media in that “I don’t get it” way that lots of people did in 2012. The panelists begin to introduce themselves. There’s a lady who gave up the internet for a month and never went back or some shit. There’s a some dude who feeds children golden bread and doesn’t have time for the internet. I think there was a nun and Mennonite and what the fuck are they even doing here? The Baby Jesus. C there, Silkk there, Fiend there, Mamma there, P there… But one thing was clear: everyone on that panel were too busy being good and awesome people to be on the dummy’s internet. And then…

There was me.

And they saved me for last. “They are about to shit on me and there are MAD minutes left in this segment.”

Marc asks me questions and I think I try to tie it into my actual post to control the message that I’m not just sitting in a pile of tweets like some type of digital cat-lady. But it didn’t matter. I was gonna be the weirdo. That’s okay. I’m kind of a weirdo. But…I just wasn’t 100% in love with either one of those muthafuckas’ tones. And Hill was a little too taken aback for someone who uses social media regularly. I couldn’t tell if Chiklis was rolling with it, being an old ass man, or had gas and just wanted to make it through the segment, but he was right there with Hill.

Regardless, I was a gracious motherfucker because one: I’m classy. Two: the only thing worse than being the crazy internet bitch on a segment is being a crazy internet bitch who told both mods to go fuck themselves sideways. I took it as a life lesson about controlling your own narrative and vetting the people and outlets you acknowledge. (I still work on this…obviously.) So I chilled, but it’s been fuck those guys ever since.

But when Marc Lamont Hill hopped in his stool to tell us that Big Boi called him a bitch in front of his kids, King Jesus, and all and sundry, I was not gracious. I did not sit in the stoic silence that i typically do when someone I don’t care for is being dragged. I. Hopped. Right. In. I had jokes. I think my jokes had jokes. And I posted a picture of Big Boi holding a penguin with a message to Hill.

And I discovered that it was removed.

But Marc, this panguin still think you a bitch too, mane.