I believe it was Willem Dafoe in the movie The Last Temptation of Christ, or possibly 2Pac, who said let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
If only the white Touré had heeded the words of the prophet(s) before he embarked on what’s become a second career patting himself on the back for being morally superior to R. Kelly.
A week ago, the esteemed journalist was prominently featured in the shocking, unintentionally hilarious Lifetime movie about Arruh, recounting, among other things, the time he asked the singer if he liked teenagers, to which Arruh replied, Uh, define teenagers.
Since then, I’ve seen him on CNN, and some podcast, making it a point to note that he had the Arruh-Aaliyah marriage certificate before Vibe magazine, even though the latter is where everyone saw it. I remember the marriage being mentioned on MTV, but I don’t recall them putting the document up on the screen. Maybe I blocked out the memory to protect myself. I might need my own Lifetime movie. As Destiny’s Child would say, I’m a survivor.
If I don’t quite merit my own Lifetime movie, maybe I can be a commentator in a movie about Touré, if they ever make a movie about Touré. Surviving R. Kelly was popular enough that they have to be considering some sort of spinoff. (This weekend, they’re running an encore marathon.) They can’t do Michael Jackson, because there’s already a Michael Jackson movie coming out, and the Cos is already in prison. Touré would be ideal, because he was in Surviving R. Kelly. What a plot twist.
Already, at least one victim—ahem, survivor—has emerged. Makeup artist @danimakeup popped up in the comments section of an Instagram post about a podcast Touré was on, as one does, complaining that Touré had the sheer balls to be on deep cable criticizing Arruh, when he used to ask her if she’d like to try anal with him, whether or not she banged black guys, how she’d look with his, erm, essence all over her face, so on and so forth. She’s since elaborated in her Instagram stories. You might want to have a look before they disappear.
I took a look at her account, only for the sake of journalism, and I can kinda see how Touré could get caught up. There’s nothing about this girl’s appearance to suggest that she’d be offended by a little harmless locker room talk, as the president might put it, or that she’s never been propositioned by a brother. I’m not saying Touré was right to fantasize about dropping Nick Manning-style loads on this broad (arggh!); I’m just saying. If she were applying makeup to my face, I can’t tell you I’d be sitting there thinking about baseball.
If you scroll down the page, there’s pics of her with rappers, including the black Torae and Jim Jones, and a picture of her and 50 Cent in what may or may not be a sweaty, post-coital embrace. He’s wearing a bathrobe, and it’s not clear whether or not she’s wearing a shirt. I’ve rarely been as jealous. Today, Fiddy posted a screencap of the article in Essence about Touré’s alleged harassment, without indicating that he knows this broad. There must be more to this story. Touré didn’t just ask this girl if she’d like to try anal with him apropos of nothing.
Touré probably wouldn’t benefit from trying to explain himself to the #MeToo Mob, which would be the equivalent of trying to negotiate with terrorists (no offense to the terrorists), but I encourage him to give it a shot anyway, for my own personal amusement. Usually quite loquacious, he’s yet to comment on this matter, aside from a brief statement released through a representative. He once disappeared from Twitter for a good year or so, after, among other things, his long since forgotten “sexual heroes” controversy, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he does that again.
While he’s gone, Touré might want to take some time to reflect on Billy Joel’s famous axiom about people who live in glass houses.
Take it easy on yourself,