It’s no secret that the world of blogging is a fast-paced, get-the-story-first world that can lead to rushed, incomplete reporting but this gem from Mediaite is simply page-view trolling. Mediaite columnist, James Crugnale completely failed at basic reading comprehension and misreported culture critic, Toure’s stance on Rihanna and Chris Brown’s reconciliation. 

Toure was not “put on blast for his defense of” Chris Brown’s assault on Rihanna, he was being blasted by Brown’s supporters (sadly, many of whom are women). In a twitter conversation that lasted for the better part of last night, Toure was completely dumbfounded by some most over-zealous of Brown’s supporters who likened assault to a “mistake.” 

Here’s how it played out. 

Growing up was rough but I never noticed it; I call it the coping mechanism that is youth. We didn’t have much but we always managed to make the most of what we had. 

Saturdays were always about getting up early (which I loathed, c’mon Mom! I don’t have to go to school!) and getting started on the household chores. Most Saturdays my would leave for work early which meant that I, being the oldest, was in charge of the household upkeep. A task that I delayed as long as I could and after the Saturday morning cartoons were over (no we didn’t have 24-hour cartoon networks then. If we did, I wouldn’t know because we didn’t have cable) it was time for the “hippest trip in America!” 

The music, the colors, the smiling, beautiful faces having what looked like the best time ever; I had dreamed of becoming a musician just to play Soul Train. MTV didn’t play R&B or Hip Hop then (late 80’s MTV looked like musical apartheid), but it didn’t phase me - I had Soul Train! The music would bump from the television set in the living room and I’d go to work. Enjoying the music, singing along, and looking quite possibly the most awkward, no rhythm having, Mexican on the Planet!* 

Mr. Cornelius brought me and who knows how many countless others that joy of music. Regardless of what your situation in life was, for one hour every Saturday you could lose yourself in the music, the lights, and the sights of the hippest trip in America. And I’m forever grateful.

*Note: I’ve since learned that the two-step is my friend and I’m never going to venture beyond that. Never.