Last night I watched the Real Husbands of Hollywood, a show I looked forward to as soon as I saw the preview in the movie theater. (By the way, as much as I enjoyed this particular preview, I still can’t get over the fact that those bastards charge $4.00 for a bottle of water, but they need to show commercials, for crying out loud.)
Now that I’ve seen two episodes, I’m hooked, despite the fact that it’s one of those shows that’s not as funny as it should be. You know, the kind where the actors are better than the material? But it’s getting there. I can feel it.
Part of my affinity for the show stems from the fact that it promotes the talents of so many black actors (plus honorary soul brother Robin Thicke). I mean, how often does that happen? Also, the unscripted/ scripted feel of the dialogue showcases just how gifted these men are, from the body language to the facial expressions to the dialogue itself. I like it.
This morning while we’re driving Thomas to school (it’s the day I volunteer, that’s why I’m in the car), I ask Ed (my not-so-honorary white husband) why he didn’t watch the show with me last night, and he says something like “Bleh …. It looks stupid.”
You could have knocked me down with a feather when he said that, because “stupid” is Ed’s kind of show.
“What do you mean it looks stupid?” I cry, incredulous. “It’s exactly the kind of stupid you like.”
“No thanks,” Ed says.
I pause. “Oh I see. You can watch black folks on Jerry Springer all day long acting a fool, but you don’t want to see a screen full of talented and good looking black men.”
From the driver’s seat, Ed looks over at me.
“Who’s good looking? Kevin Hart? You’re kidding me, right?”
“Well, actually I was thinking of Boris Kodjoe, but let’s not change the subject.”
“What?! Listen, if you want to think some bald-headed guy is cute, then go ahead.”
Surprised, because I honestly didn’t think Ed knew who Boris Kodjoe is, I say “How did you know he’s bald-headed?”
Exasperated, Ed says, “They’re all bald-headed! That’s the style now! They’re all trying to look like Obama guys.”
I say to myself “Where the heck does he get this stuff?” (Later, I think Ed must have read this article.)
Edward says, “Let me get this straight. Because I don’t want to watch Real Husbands, I’m racist?”
“Yes,” I say.
“First of all,” Ed says, “I don’t think Kevin Hart is that funny. I mean, his stand-up stuff doesn’t translate that well to television. He’s not funny like Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, or even Martin Lawrence. He’s adequate, okay? But he’s not funny, funny. Put it like this—Flip Wilson reruns are funnier than Kevin Hart on tv. I like those two guys who left Madtv and have their own show. They do skits, and they’re funny.”
“What two guys?” I ask.
“The two guys from Madtv,” Ed says.
“I know they’re from Madtv,” I say. “You just told me that. But who are they?”
“I don’t know. Two guys from Madtv” Ed repeats.
“Are they black?” I ask. Thinking, if they aren’t, forget it, Ed is still racist.
“Yes,” Edward sighs.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll look them up."
Ed says to Thomas, sitting in the back of the car playing with this video game, “See Thomas, this is what happens when your mom doesn’t get her morning French Vanilla with Extra Extra Cream, Extra Sugar from Dunkin Donuts. Thank God the line isn’t that long.”
So we go in the drive through, and I get my coffee, and yeah, I’m feeling a little less belligerent now, but I still think, “How can Ed not like Real Husbands?” So we’re going to catch a rerun and settle this once and for all.