Earlier today, Chris Brown was engaged in a lengthy stand-off with the police. Brown was holed up in his California mansion while the authorities demanded entry. The mess (and what a mess it was) started in the wee hours of the morning when a woman named Baylee Curran claimed that Brown had threatened her with a gun. Curran and a few friends left the scene, leaving Brown alone with his woes. Brown allegedly threw a bag containing weapons out of the window.
Brown then did what he does best:
Sing and dance? Nope.
Behave like a mature, tax paying adult? Nope.
This is Chris Breezy we’re talking about.
Brown took to social media and produced a few videos. In one of them, he loudly declares “fuck the police” a la Straight Outta Compton. Another contains allusions to the Black Lives Matter movement. Several hours later, the standoff ended and Brown is now under investigation for assault.
And with that spectacle, ladies and gentlemen, let this be the final nail on the designer coffin that is Chris Brown’s career. I may not be a certified minister but I have seen both Sister Act movies so I’m pretty sure I’m qualified to give this eulogy.
I didn’t know Chris Brown personally (thank God) but I do remember his younger innocent days. I remember dancing along to his Double Mint Gum commercials. I remember Chris Brown and his lisp on Sesame Street hanging out with Elmo.
But dark times were on the horizon for the light-skinned wonder. The night that crashed a thousand blogs; the night he abused Rihanna. I remember the subsequent tantrums, him throwing a chair out of the window at the Good Morning America studio.
Who doesn’t remember the scuffle he and Drake had over Rihanna (who wasn’t even present and still had men fighting over her; she is truly an icon who needs to start a workshop). To this day I’m still waiting for a Drizzy and Chris Brown collab on an updated version of Brandy and Monica’s “The Boy is Mine”. I also remember his numerous flings.
*A moment of silence for Karreuche and her self-esteem*.
Perhaps the only good thing to come from Chris was one of the cutest babies on the ‘gram, Royalty Brown.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dick pics, it’s time to put to rest the Father of F*ckboys, the Dictator of Douchebaggery, the Archduke of Assholes: Christopher Maurice Brown. We hardly knew ye (not really).
Featured image via “Chris Brown” by Eva Rinaldi Celebrity Photographer / CC BY-SA 2.0
