Mr. Somebody
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Is that you in your avatar, friend?Shut up....
I swear nikkas can't have shyt without the word c00n, sellout, or stereotypes thrown out.
Boondocks Season 4 Premieres Tomorrow - Pretty Boy Flizzy Promo Trailer
- Thread starter the bossman
- Start date
Damn I was wrong... I was cracking up 1 minute into he premiere...
can we get a link though?
nvm: Boondocks S4 Ep1
Yeah quality wise, this show started dropping off last season, so the quality of this episode was right on par..
It was pretty good imo. Not every Boondocks episode was great in the first three seasons anyways
One review: Seitz on The Boondocks Season 4 -- Vulture
I'll be brief about the fourth and final season of The Boondocks, the Adult Swim series about ten-year-old black militant Huey Freeman, his gangsta-wanna-be kid brother, Riley, and their nonsensically yammering, ladies-loving caretaker, Granddad. There isn't much to say. It's not terrible, but it doesn't seem like itself. It's a zombie show, like the Dan Harmon–less fourth season of Community. Something's off. You can't figure out exactly what, but you can feel it.
Series creator Aaron McGruder, who adapted the animated show from his own newspaper strip, isn't involved anymore. The series' long-delayed final season proceeded without him, after he and the network disagreed over a schedule for delivering new episodes (the details are fuzzy; McGruder's statement is here). Adult Swim sent out two episodes for critics, tonight's and next week's. They’re being shown out of sequence. Tonight's episode is marked as "402" and next week's is "404." The second has no writing credit. The Los Angeles Times speculates that "The absence of a writing credit indicates that the installment was likely written by McGruder." I'm not sure how the missing writing credit makes it "likely" that McGruder wrote the episode; it seems it could just as easily indicate that the episode was rewritten without his consent and he wanted his name taken off it, or that it was written by committee and nobody could agree on credit (or blame), or that there was some other behind-the-scenes craziness we don't know about. Maybe the Times has inside information it can't attribute for whatever reason?
No matter: The plot, about an abusive, drug-addled, entourage-addicted, Chris Brown–type rapper named Pretty Boy Flizzy, is more leaden and tedious than most Boondocks episodes, and considering how often the show was accused of being "unfunny" (which is often White People code for "too angry" or "too inside" — sometimes both) that's saying quite a bit. During his heyday, McGruder, like South Park's Trey Parker and Matt Stone, pissed off pretty much everybody. But he drew particular ire for his race-centric humor. He was accused of not being positive enough, of using the "n"-word too often, of airing African-American cultural dirty laundry and so forth (the late '80s Spike Lee complaints). Not every episode or every joke landed, but the show had a unique look and feel, with Korean-animated, anime-inspired, often strikingly composed shots. And the somewhat slippery rage animating every episode made it muddled but intriguing, and tough to pin down. The Boondocks and its creator slagged Bill Cosby, BET, Whitney Houston, and Larry Elder (who sarcastically named an award for him, the McGruder). McGruder pissed off Republicans by visiting Fidel Castro and calling former National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice a mass murderer, and Democrats for insinuating that Barack Obama wasn't really black.
But even when McGruder's ire was scattershot and confused, and even when he seemed painfully young, you could sense the man behind the art. It was as personal as a rant by Uncle Ruckus. These two new episodes don't feel personal. In the Pretty Boy Flizzy episode, the singer's lawyer, Thomas Dubois, observes Flizzy's sneering criminal antics and ultimately learns how to be A Man and make women respect him (with his fists, natch). Every joke is driven into the ground with a sledgehammer, the subtext of much of the humor is both racist and sexist, and hip-hop culture itself is depicted as uniformly misogynist, cynical, and dumb. When Flizzy tells Tom that "Women have no self respect," it's clear that we're supposed to take him at his word. There's something unnervingly sock-puppet-ish about the whole thing, like reading a Fox News story online and coming across a comment by somebody who has an African-American avatar but is spewing exactly the same reactionary nonsense as everyone else on the page, in the same words, and in the same tone. Except for Flizzy's montage of apologies — which includes a mea culpa for fighting with Nicki Minaj in the VIP section of a nightclub after mistaking her for a Terminator — it's depressingly flat.
Next week's episode — the one without a writing credit — is a Breaking Bad parody in which Grandpa starts cooking homemade Nap-B-Gone hair straightener in a mobile home, the better to support his habit of taking his "fine bytches" out to eat. It's slightly more tolerable than the Flizzy episode, but long stretches feel less like a freestanding comic episode than a checklist of Breaking Bad jokes, and even at its best, it's no "Thank You for Not Snitching" or "Guess Hoe's Coming to Dinner." I hesitate to declare The Boondocks dead, but minus its creator and his peculiar but striking voice, what other choice is there?
I'll be brief about the fourth and final season of The Boondocks, the Adult Swim series about ten-year-old black militant Huey Freeman, his gangsta-wanna-be kid brother, Riley, and their nonsensically yammering, ladies-loving caretaker, Granddad. There isn't much to say. It's not terrible, but it doesn't seem like itself. It's a zombie show, like the Dan Harmon–less fourth season of Community. Something's off. You can't figure out exactly what, but you can feel it.
Series creator Aaron McGruder, who adapted the animated show from his own newspaper strip, isn't involved anymore. The series' long-delayed final season proceeded without him, after he and the network disagreed over a schedule for delivering new episodes (the details are fuzzy; McGruder's statement is here). Adult Swim sent out two episodes for critics, tonight's and next week's. They’re being shown out of sequence. Tonight's episode is marked as "402" and next week's is "404." The second has no writing credit. The Los Angeles Times speculates that "The absence of a writing credit indicates that the installment was likely written by McGruder." I'm not sure how the missing writing credit makes it "likely" that McGruder wrote the episode; it seems it could just as easily indicate that the episode was rewritten without his consent and he wanted his name taken off it, or that it was written by committee and nobody could agree on credit (or blame), or that there was some other behind-the-scenes craziness we don't know about. Maybe the Times has inside information it can't attribute for whatever reason?
No matter: The plot, about an abusive, drug-addled, entourage-addicted, Chris Brown–type rapper named Pretty Boy Flizzy, is more leaden and tedious than most Boondocks episodes, and considering how often the show was accused of being "unfunny" (which is often White People code for "too angry" or "too inside" — sometimes both) that's saying quite a bit. During his heyday, McGruder, like South Park's Trey Parker and Matt Stone, pissed off pretty much everybody. But he drew particular ire for his race-centric humor. He was accused of not being positive enough, of using the "n"-word too often, of airing African-American cultural dirty laundry and so forth (the late '80s Spike Lee complaints). Not every episode or every joke landed, but the show had a unique look and feel, with Korean-animated, anime-inspired, often strikingly composed shots. And the somewhat slippery rage animating every episode made it muddled but intriguing, and tough to pin down. The Boondocks and its creator slagged Bill Cosby, BET, Whitney Houston, and Larry Elder (who sarcastically named an award for him, the McGruder). McGruder pissed off Republicans by visiting Fidel Castro and calling former National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice a mass murderer, and Democrats for insinuating that Barack Obama wasn't really black.
But even when McGruder's ire was scattershot and confused, and even when he seemed painfully young, you could sense the man behind the art. It was as personal as a rant by Uncle Ruckus. These two new episodes don't feel personal. In the Pretty Boy Flizzy episode, the singer's lawyer, Thomas Dubois, observes Flizzy's sneering criminal antics and ultimately learns how to be A Man and make women respect him (with his fists, natch). Every joke is driven into the ground with a sledgehammer, the subtext of much of the humor is both racist and sexist, and hip-hop culture itself is depicted as uniformly misogynist, cynical, and dumb. When Flizzy tells Tom that "Women have no self respect," it's clear that we're supposed to take him at his word. There's something unnervingly sock-puppet-ish about the whole thing, like reading a Fox News story online and coming across a comment by somebody who has an African-American avatar but is spewing exactly the same reactionary nonsense as everyone else on the page, in the same words, and in the same tone. Except for Flizzy's montage of apologies — which includes a mea culpa for fighting with Nicki Minaj in the VIP section of a nightclub after mistaking her for a Terminator — it's depressingly flat.
Next week's episode — the one without a writing credit — is a Breaking Bad parody in which Grandpa starts cooking homemade Nap-B-Gone hair straightener in a mobile home, the better to support his habit of taking his "fine bytches" out to eat. It's slightly more tolerable than the Flizzy episode, but long stretches feel less like a freestanding comic episode than a checklist of Breaking Bad jokes, and even at its best, it's no "Thank You for Not Snitching" or "Guess Hoe's Coming to Dinner." I hesitate to declare The Boondocks dead, but minus its creator and his peculiar but striking voice, what other choice is there?
Another review:
Without its creator, the gratifyingly tasteless Boondocks no longer tastes like itself TV Review The A.V. Club
Without its creator, the gratifyingly tasteless Boondocks no longer tastes like itself
B-
The Boondocks
Season 4
The fourth, final season of The Boondocks, which was made without the participation of series creator and showrunner Aaron McGruder, has one thing going for it that the Dan Harmon-free fourth season of Community didn’t: It’s been so long since new episodes of The Boondocks aired that some viewers may have forgotten what the show used to be like. McGruder, who is working on a new live-action show for Adult Swim called Black Jesus, recently issued a farewell letter to Boondocks fans in which he wrote, “For three seasons I personally navigated this show through the minefields of controversy. It was not perfect. And it definitely was not quick.”
He can say that again. The first season premiered in the fall of 2005, and the third concluded almost three-and-a-half years ago. The series was always erratic, which is a common condition among shows that are dancing through minefields, but at its best it produced some of the sharpest satire on TV—and it was always McGruder’s baby.
Based on a small sampling of upcoming episodes, the new season is a copy of McGruder’s baby made from a printer that needs a fresh ink cartridge. The clear, hard lines of McGruder’s vision and sensibility aren’t the only things that are a little faded. On a show like this, the freshness and relevance of the satirical targets counts for a lot, and three-and-a-half years is a lifetime in popular culture. So it’s not altogether encouraging to tune into the new season and see Robert “Granddad” Freeman (still voiced by the prodigious John Witherspoon) barreling through a desert landscape in an RV while stripped to his underwear and wearing a gas mask. It’s a reference to Breaking Bad, a television program that played out its entire five-year run between the end of The Boondocks’ premiere season and the start of this one.
McGruder’s characters and point of view provide a workable template for other talented writers, and the Breaking Bad parody has some laughs in it. The story involves Granddad having brought the family to the brink of homelessness through his extravagant living and expensive dating regimen—or, as revolutionary-in-training Huey (Regina King) calls it, “Taking bytches out to eat again.” Salvation arrives when it’s discovered that the gelatinous bomb materials Huey has been developing in the garage make an excellent hair product. When Huey objects to the idea of selling people explosives to massage into their scalps, Granddad reasons, “We’ll put a warning label on it. ‘Warning: Flammable.’ Moral dilemma solved!” The story gets out anyway, and soon there are excitable news anchors on TV inveighing against the Freeman’s miracle hair gel, over a headline reading “HAIR RAZING DEVELOPMENT.” The Freemans’ business partner, a sinister hair salon operator, is unfazed. “These bytches would put napalm on their hair if it made it straight,” she says, and points out the inherent defects in some popular rival products: “This here will turn your brain green. This stuff has plutonium. This one here is acid. Just acid!”
The Breaking Bad episode has the benefit of keeping the Freemans front and center. For some reason, Cartoon Network has chosen to lead off the season with an episode centering on the Freemans’ neighbor, wealthy attorney Tom Dubois, and his new client, a Chris Brown-like pop star who’s accused of robbing a liquor store. Restarting the series with an episode like this practically amounts to a warning label itself. For one thing, McGruder already dealt with the subject of the public’s forgiving attitude toward morally reprehensible celebrities in the first-season episode “The Trial Of Robert Kelly.”
Here, the show narrows its focus down to women’s supposedly uncontrollable attraction to bad boys, which it interprets as a longing to be dominated. The singer—who is famous not just for suggestive hits as “Please Me Orally” and “Rub Against My Erection,” but for physically assaulting his ex-girlfriend onstage during the Grammys—explains to the baffled Tom that “a woman would rather be with a guy that beats her to death than one that bores her to death.” It turns out that the singer and his publicity team staged the liquor store robbery as part of their campaign to keep his manufactured bad-boy image alive, which is old Mad magazine “hippies are the real conformists!” stuff. When Aaron McGruder’s instincts play him false, which happens often enough, they usually take him to more original places than this. The show hits rock bottom when Tom angrily tells the singer that he’s starting to wonder if he even really beat his girlfriend. The singer is indignant: “Don’t you ever question whether I beat Christiana. I whupped that bytch’s ass!”
Season four of The Boondocks is a lot like that scene in David Cronenberg’s The Fly in which Jeff Goldblum confirms that he hasn’t yet programmed his teleportation device to fully grasp the intrinsic qualities of flesh. He teleports a steak, and what comes through looks like a steak but tastes synthetic, not quite right. The new Boondocks looks and sounds like the old Boondocks. But only one of them came from the real cow.
Without its creator, the gratifyingly tasteless Boondocks no longer tastes like itself TV Review The A.V. Club
Without its creator, the gratifyingly tasteless Boondocks no longer tastes like itself
B-
The Boondocks
Season 4
The fourth, final season of The Boondocks, which was made without the participation of series creator and showrunner Aaron McGruder, has one thing going for it that the Dan Harmon-free fourth season of Community didn’t: It’s been so long since new episodes of The Boondocks aired that some viewers may have forgotten what the show used to be like. McGruder, who is working on a new live-action show for Adult Swim called Black Jesus, recently issued a farewell letter to Boondocks fans in which he wrote, “For three seasons I personally navigated this show through the minefields of controversy. It was not perfect. And it definitely was not quick.”
He can say that again. The first season premiered in the fall of 2005, and the third concluded almost three-and-a-half years ago. The series was always erratic, which is a common condition among shows that are dancing through minefields, but at its best it produced some of the sharpest satire on TV—and it was always McGruder’s baby.
Based on a small sampling of upcoming episodes, the new season is a copy of McGruder’s baby made from a printer that needs a fresh ink cartridge. The clear, hard lines of McGruder’s vision and sensibility aren’t the only things that are a little faded. On a show like this, the freshness and relevance of the satirical targets counts for a lot, and three-and-a-half years is a lifetime in popular culture. So it’s not altogether encouraging to tune into the new season and see Robert “Granddad” Freeman (still voiced by the prodigious John Witherspoon) barreling through a desert landscape in an RV while stripped to his underwear and wearing a gas mask. It’s a reference to Breaking Bad, a television program that played out its entire five-year run between the end of The Boondocks’ premiere season and the start of this one.
McGruder’s characters and point of view provide a workable template for other talented writers, and the Breaking Bad parody has some laughs in it. The story involves Granddad having brought the family to the brink of homelessness through his extravagant living and expensive dating regimen—or, as revolutionary-in-training Huey (Regina King) calls it, “Taking bytches out to eat again.” Salvation arrives when it’s discovered that the gelatinous bomb materials Huey has been developing in the garage make an excellent hair product. When Huey objects to the idea of selling people explosives to massage into their scalps, Granddad reasons, “We’ll put a warning label on it. ‘Warning: Flammable.’ Moral dilemma solved!” The story gets out anyway, and soon there are excitable news anchors on TV inveighing against the Freeman’s miracle hair gel, over a headline reading “HAIR RAZING DEVELOPMENT.” The Freemans’ business partner, a sinister hair salon operator, is unfazed. “These bytches would put napalm on their hair if it made it straight,” she says, and points out the inherent defects in some popular rival products: “This here will turn your brain green. This stuff has plutonium. This one here is acid. Just acid!”
The Breaking Bad episode has the benefit of keeping the Freemans front and center. For some reason, Cartoon Network has chosen to lead off the season with an episode centering on the Freemans’ neighbor, wealthy attorney Tom Dubois, and his new client, a Chris Brown-like pop star who’s accused of robbing a liquor store. Restarting the series with an episode like this practically amounts to a warning label itself. For one thing, McGruder already dealt with the subject of the public’s forgiving attitude toward morally reprehensible celebrities in the first-season episode “The Trial Of Robert Kelly.”
Here, the show narrows its focus down to women’s supposedly uncontrollable attraction to bad boys, which it interprets as a longing to be dominated. The singer—who is famous not just for suggestive hits as “Please Me Orally” and “Rub Against My Erection,” but for physically assaulting his ex-girlfriend onstage during the Grammys—explains to the baffled Tom that “a woman would rather be with a guy that beats her to death than one that bores her to death.” It turns out that the singer and his publicity team staged the liquor store robbery as part of their campaign to keep his manufactured bad-boy image alive, which is old Mad magazine “hippies are the real conformists!” stuff. When Aaron McGruder’s instincts play him false, which happens often enough, they usually take him to more original places than this. The show hits rock bottom when Tom angrily tells the singer that he’s starting to wonder if he even really beat his girlfriend. The singer is indignant: “Don’t you ever question whether I beat Christiana. I whupped that bytch’s ass!”
Season four of The Boondocks is a lot like that scene in David Cronenberg’s The Fly in which Jeff Goldblum confirms that he hasn’t yet programmed his teleportation device to fully grasp the intrinsic qualities of flesh. He teleports a steak, and what comes through looks like a steak but tastes synthetic, not quite right. The new Boondocks looks and sounds like the old Boondocks. But only one of them came from the real cow.
episode was pretty dry
too much talking….titangraphs of talking…and 0 emotion during the conversation
michael b jordan is a horrible voice actor. flizzy was animated as fukk and this dude is straight monotone
too much talking….titangraphs of talking…and 0 emotion during the conversation
michael b jordan is a horrible voice actor. flizzy was animated as fukk and this dude is straight monotone
ain't this the second time Tom's wife has tried to fukk a rapper? didn't she try to fukk T.I before?
King Jove
King Of †he Gawds
WE GETTIN fukkED UP 
WE fukkIN STRIPPERS
WE GETTIN fukkED UP
WE fukkIN STRIPPERS
WE fukkIN STRIPPERS
WE GETTIN fukkED UP
WE fukkIN STRIPPERS
Even moreso than that.. I was a teenager when this show premiered. I'm damn near 30 now.