Ironic, isn’t it? Tyler Perry, who’s made a living by making movies, plays and television shows about God (and rape. Mostly rape.) has topped Forbes list of wealthiest men in Hollywood. Of course, now I’m questioning the existence of a higher power. Thanks, TP.
Actually, this isn’t all bad. The fact that Perry is able to cash in $130 million by appealing to a solely Black audience proves that there is a sustainable and lucrative market in the African-American community. Granted, this also means that Hollywood will take this bit of data and start recreating sh*tty movies and embarrassing television shows to capture some of Perry’s magic.
So expect Jerry Bruckheimer to be producing a brand new flick called Aunt Jemima And The Sundance Kid that’ll hit theaters in 2013.
“But David, can’t you just be proud of the man and his accomplishments?”
Yes. I can. And I do admire him for coming up from being homeless to raking in millions. I also have a modicum of taste and think that Tyler Perry makes the most f*cktastically simple-minded cinema I’ve ever witnessed. They’re basically just “Rape. Drugs. Jesus. Perry acts out his own creepy, perverted fantasies involving male bodies. More Jesus. Credits. Rinse. Repeat.” But hey, he’s Black. So yay for his achievements!
By the way, nobody says “hey, he’s Black! Just enjoy the fact he’s making money!” when the NAACP comes down on Nelly or any other rapper that feels like sliding a Visa card down some chick’s vag. But then again, rappers don’t pay off the NAACP millions of bucks to earn awards and support. So that’s that.