P "Sean Combs" Diddy premiered his new earth-shattering expose into his mad world of fashion self-discovery last night on the Music TeleVision Network, and simultaneously gave mortals the world over a chance to live the superlife only Capital Lord Senators from the Bornal System are allowed to experience. For half an hour, I had the ability to gaze at the splendor of a genius-mind. And all I have to say is-
Yeah, and I'm Florence Nightingale, pal.
Is this guy f*cking serious? All those who came here looking for the review of a show that was somehow remotely about fashion, turn away now. For all those who came here to read about the multidimensional and quasi-biblical size of Puff Daddy's ego, venture forth.
A short history: this is the man who "improved" his name from "Puff Daddy" to "Puff Diddy" to "P Diddy". This is the man who rolled up to the MTV Movie Awards in a Pepsi delivery truck. This is the man who somehow found a way to make a Zeppelin song suck.
"If I Were King" is billed as a show about life of a media mogul during Fashion Week and all the twists and trials involved therein. However, it becomes clear after 45 seconds that this is a televised experience capturing the essence of a man who pulled himself up by his very own bootstraps out of a dark realm of untold malice, and the good, damn good fashion sense that provided the catalyst. And this blossoming bud of glory is narrated by the only man worthy of, nay, capable of telling the story: PDiddo himself.
Now, when I say "narrated", I mean it in the loosest definition of the word possible. The art of narration, perfected by the likes of Gene Hackman and Morgan Freeman, usually involves an offscreen voice actor describing action, providing background information, or waxing rhetorical about what is occuring onscreen. Narration is not the self-appointed narrator sitting on a couch talking non-stop about the narrator. However, as Diddy has reinvented, or "Diddified" other art forms before, he has also extended his reach to narration. The subject of the documentary takes a back seat to the narrator himself; the narrator is the narrated, the narration is the subject, and before you know it, Puff has unloaded a steaming pile of SeanJohn onto your brain.
Every action taken by this would-be king is monumental, cast in golden lighting and punctuated with a tremendous orchestra of strings and timpani. When he reached for his bottle of Evian, I found a small part of my subconcious mind desperate to know whether he would drink it, or hold it in his hands for a time and then drink it. Only one man has the ability, has the BALLS to perform simple mundane tasks with such brilliance.
Few people possess an ego big enough to short-circuit their common sense, and Sean Combs proudly lists himself as one of them, and the fact that this show is taking up primetime space on MTV proves it. In a rational world, this show would have another two episodes, at best, before being cancelled due to having one regular viewer (Diddy). However, rationale and reason do not apply to the network that funds shows like "Date My Mom", "Engaged and Underage", and "My Super Sweet 16", and gave Tila Tequila a second season to rub her crotch against other people's crotches. Compared to the network's other offerings, If I Were King is a cinematic masterpiece.
Three episodes, tops.
Recording...
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