Clinging to the past

28 years ago “Fresh Prince of Bel Air” premiered on NBC. Starring, a 21 year old Willard Carroll Smith Jr (as Will)

Last week, I came across a video of Janet Hubert on Facebook. While most people know Will Smith, few people know Ms Hubert by her given name. However, she is known the world over as the original Aun’t Viv, she was 34 years old, when the show premiered.

M’s Hubert, was replaced by Daphne Maxwell Reid at the beginning of the fourth season.  Rumors suggested  Ms Hubert was difficult on the set of the sitcom, bumping heads with cast members and it’s star.

For the last 25 years years, Mr Hubert has been in a one person feud with Will Smith. She has blamed him for her inability to get work, her financial situation and  her son’s attempted suicide.

In her July 16th (2018) you tube post, she directs the video directly at Mr Smith. In addition to Smith, she attacked Perez Hilton, the black community and called Bet and Vibe the nigger networks.

It’s clear she has been trolling the Smith family, wife Jada and their children. She wants a face to face meeting with Smith .While she does acknowledge, Mr Smith’s kind words about her, she want’s to talk to him about events that took place more than 25 years ago.

When I look at her other you tube posts, she quickly lashes out at anyone who questions her or disagrees with her.  It appears she is angry with former cast mates reserving  most of her ire at Will Smith and Alfonso Ribeiro who has been critical of her. From what I’ve seen, when ever she is on TV, Will Smith is front and center.  She insists the cast members dislike each other.  However, the cast seem to be in contact with each other and speak well of other cast mates. With one exception in 1993, where he told a Atlanta radio station she was fired, he has had nothing but positive words about his experience with Ms Hubert.

While Smith and family have gone on to live their lives, its seems Ms Hubert life is stalled in the past and its very clear that she is comfortable looking rearward. Every now and them the Smith’s are asked to respond to something Ms Hubert has said to the press and from what I can see both Jada and Will are gracious.

There are many Ms Hubert’s who despite their words find comfort in the past. Blaming an event, an individual or individuals, a parent or someone or something  that prevents them from moving forward. With a well rehearsed story, so fresh it seemed it happened yesterday.

Many of these people need this narrative that was so damaging that they are unable to move forward.

For many of us, it is an excuse. Everyday people with challenging lives are fired, everyday someones heart is broken, we lose someone, and we are disappointed.

Hearts take time and isn’t a preset healing time. While some heart’s heal sooner that others, there are a few people who are so broken, they reject the healing process, they pick and reopen the wound to perhaps, keep the story fresh.

For some, the benefit of reliving the event is the sympathy it generates. Rarely does the narrator include a timestamp, when the event took place. In doing so, it reduces the impact of the story.

One wonders if these people are able to move on. Janet Hubert has spent 28 years angry. A lifetime.



“Remember His Name” “Vitalii Sediuk” He’s gonna live…………..

By CityFella


25 year old Vitalii Sediuk loves American celebrities.  He’s been slapped by Will Smith.   His face has been under America Ferrera’s dress and in the crotches of  Bradley Cooper AND Leonardo DiCaprio.   Encounters with other A- listers has made him celebrity enemy  number one.

Who is he?

Vitalii Sediuk was a reporter for the Ukrainian television channel 1+1 .   He was fired from his reporter job after he jumped under actress America Ferrera’s dress on May 17th at the Cannes Film Festival.   Even though he is a known prankster, the  TV network says they were not  involved in his stunts.

Sediuk has lived in Los Angeles area  since 2012.where  he filed occasional stories for 1+1.  He also works as an aspiring writer / director / producer

Timeline of the Notorious Vatalii

01 September 2011

While Madonna can live with wire hangers.  Everybody’s knows she hates hydrangeas.   Vatalii handed Madonna a bouquet of hydrangeas at the Venice Film Festival,

18 May 2012

He kissed Will Smith at the premier of Men in Black III in Moscow.  Smith not feeling particularly romantic slapped the crap out him and asked ” What the HELL is your problem?

10 February 2013

He eluded security to get a second-row seat inside the Staples Center at the 2013 Grammy Awards, despite having no credentials. Sediuk  jumped onto the stage when Jennifer Lopez announced Adele as the winner. “I love you, Adele,” he is heard saying as the singer approached. He was arrested offstage and later prosecuted on two misdemeanor charges.


24 February 2013

Epic Fail

Sediuk attempted to enter the 85th Academy Awards wearing drag.  But was turned back by security .

I think there is something on your crotch…..My Face!!!!!! 

18 January 2014

Bradley Cooper at the 20th Screen Actors Guild Awards at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles.


6 February 2014

Leonardo DiCaprio at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival

8 February 2014

Sediuk gave it his all and bared it for the fashionistas  during  New York Fashion Week .  Where he was arrested for trespassing.

16 May 2014

“Well hello America”

As she posed for pictures the premier of How to Train Your Dragon 2 at the Cannes Film Festival Sediuk crawled under her gown.

 28 May 2014

While his wife Angelina Jolie ,star of Maleficent was being interviewed on one side of El Capitan Theater on Hollywood Boulevard Wednesday.  Brad Pitt was on the other side  signing autographs. Sediuk allegedly jumped the rope and hit actor in his face, according to Los Angeles Police Sgt. Leonard Calderon.   Pitt, who looked as he got a couple of punches in, continued unfazed on the carpet to giving  interviews.

Sediuk was held in the  Los Angeles County Men’s Central Jail after failing to post $20,000 bail, and was indicted on May 30, 2014 on charges of assault and battery. Sediuk was also charged with unlawful activity at a sporting or theatrical event or exhibition, and unlawful delay of a unlawful activity at a sporting or theatrical event or exhibition, relating to his 2013 Oscars stunt, prosecution for which had been deferred at the time of the incident on condition of his good behavior for three years.

Sediuk, 25, previously told  “The Hollywood Reporter”  that he relied on 1+1 — a celebrity-oriented network that airs the  Ukrainian version of The Voice  to cover the legal costs incurred during his last brush with the law, following his arrest for storming the stage at the 2013 Grammys. That incident resulted in three years of probation and a lifetime ban from the L.A Live complex.

This time around, Sediuk — who is still being held by the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department on suspicion of battery, pending $20,000 bond — will be left entirely to his own devices.

His first appearance before a Los Angeles judge is scheduled for Today, but he has already been slapped with an emergency protective order barring him from approaching Pitt. The restraining order expires on Monday, but is likely to be extended.

Will Smith’s Super-Trailer

He may be the Fresh Prince, but he’s living like a king!

The trailer that Will Smith uses for chill out time when he’s filming movies is the most pimped out thing on 22 wheels ever.

Nicknamed ‘The Heat’, the two-story motor home is over 16 metres long and weighs 30 tons.

Inside it boasts a private cinema with a 100 inch screen, a conference room that can fit 30 people, a master bedroom, a granite bathroom and a fully functioning kitchen.

The over the top trailer costs $2.5 million to own, but if you’re a bit hard up for cash at the moment you can rent it for a modest $9,000 a week.

Take a look inside … and prepare for your jaw to drop.

Did too much porn…….

Did porn warp me forever?Enlarge(Credit: gremlin via iStock)

Like other boys my age, I grew up with unlimited access to smut. At 23, I wonder if it’s totally screwed me up

It was the era of Kazaa and we knew no better. Among my group of male friends at my austere private elementary school, watching, discussing and even sharing pornography became a sexual outlet. With the ease of downloading, we would burn CDs and swap them in school with “clever” titles taken from some album with a vague penis reference (like Will Smith’s ignominious “Big Willie Style”). That way, we could talk about porn in public, asking each other on field trips, “What did you think of that new Craig David CD I burned for you?” The “inside joke” rose to evil middle-school comic genius when other students bought the actual music albums to get in on the trend. It was a typical preteen hijink, except that the images on those CDs were far more raw than the traditional Playboy pin-up.

Both of my parents were shrinks, and even though I was generally comfortable talking about sex in my household, porn — especially the porn I was watching — just had to be taboo. It was inexplicably gross, divorced from the concept of sex as it had been explained to me. If sex was a man inserting his penis into a woman’s vagina, then how did girls drinking cum out of champagne glasses fit into that picture? Because of its unspeakable nature, Internet porn became inextricably linked with the anxiety of being caught.

I would sneak downstairs to the family computer once the house was dark. As I would settle into the polyester-cotton seat of the swivel chair and open a browser, my heart would thump with a mix of thrill and shame, my ears perked for any reason to abort my mission — zip, pull and dart with an excuse ready about checking the weather for tomorrow. (An excuse that worked more than once. I was a tidy kid). The terror and guilt would only be overridden with lust once the videos began to stream. It was an addict’s high, a high-stakes heist for sexual pleasure — an association that would not soon recede in my primal brain.

I distinctly remember the first time I ejaculated. Even back then it felt weirdly insidious — an innocent, exuberant, almost ancient moment of sexual development, stained with the futuristic debasement of a flashing screen. I leapt up from the chair at the family computer and bounded upstairs to the bathroom. I looked into the mirror, truly proud that I could now fulfill my procreative proclivities, and raised my arms and said out loud to myself, “I can be a dad.”

When I was 13, we moved to a new house with a lock on the computer room door. I was still cautious, but a few times I had my pants down when I heard the clicking of someone jiggling the locked doorknob.

Were you watching pornography?


We checked the history, and there were porn sites on it.

Must be a virus.

It’s an impasse that many parents and children have known. It’s not just that it’s embarrassing, it’s paralyzing — no one knows how or exactly why to move forward. What, you want me to admit that I was watching porn? What does that do? Am I supposed to be ashamed of this? Do you expect me to stop? Everyone I know is doing this!

* * *

Those of you who’ve browsed or or any other porn site know the set up. The sidebar will list the categories: Mature, Hentai, S&M, gangbang, foot fetish, redhead. Under each category there are pictures and videos (but c’mon, who would look at pictures when there are videos?), and with a fast enough Internet connection, you can skip to your favorite part of a video and move on to another.

Lesbian kissing *click* blow job *click* cum shot *click* threesome *click* orgy

With a teenage sex drive only inhibited by a vague shame, I quickly fell down a “kink spiral.” After all, we’re talking about reaching climax — when the overriding thought is often just “more!” The unknown, the unseen, was sexy to me, and I pursued novelty with vigor.

I found myself rapidly desensitized to online images. If a threesome was kinky last week, then I’d need something wilder this week. To reach climax, I had to find that same toxic mix of shame and lust.

By my sophomore year in high school I felt torn. Even though I was fairly certain that most guys my age were regular porn watchers, I felt ashamed about the type of porn that I was watching (not something that even the son of psychotherapists was eager to share with friends).

In English class, we were reading “The Scarlet Letter” and the teacher told us to write down a secret that we would never want anyone to know. I scribbled down, “I’ve watched cartoon porn.” (Actually, I was so frightened of discovery that I wrote it in code). And I had. And MILF porn. And “bukkake.” And rape. And all manners of things that I wouldn’t have dreamed of doing in real life — for moral reasons, sure, but also because it wouldn’t even necessarily turn me on to do these things in real life. But I had watched them, and I was ashamed. And I wasn’t sure if I should be or not.

For one thing, I wasn’t hurting anybody. And for another, these sites put that pornography up there! They must be doing that because people want to watch it, right? I didn’t dream it up. I just clicked through the categories of what was there by popular demand. So it was normal, right? Did that make it OK?

* * *

These questions continued to bother me. I worried that real girls wouldn’t do it for me. So my senior year in high school, I decided to quit. Cold turkey. For five months. I actually decided not to masturbate at all, and I had few sexual encounters. It was refreshing, and I definitely became more easily turned on by “traditional” things — including the women around me.

But when I started having sex, I realized that I had far from cleansed myself, even though I had continued (and continue still) to keep up my boycott on pornography. I had trouble getting and maintaining an erection with the first three women I slept with. This didn’t feel like a small matter. It seemed like all the schoolyard jockeying ultimately came down to that moment of phallic power, and I just couldn’t do it. Was I more turned on by porn than by real women? What did that mean about my sexuality?

I starting seeing a young woman regularly, and some confluence of alcohol, weed, no condom, and the trust, comfort, and affection I felt with her allowed me to start enjoying sex — to an extent. I wouldn’t acknowledge it, but the majority of nights I had “good sex” I was intoxicated. And, what’s worse, I was fantasizing about porn during sex.

It was a dissociative, alienating, almost inhuman task to close my eyes while having sex with someone I really cared about and imagine having sex with someone else or recall a deviant video from the archives of my youth that I was ashamed of even then.

I’ve talked with other millennial men who’ve experienced this, and it’s not particularly surprising. A decade before we were having intercourse, our neural pathways associated ejaculation with an addictive, progressive perversity that demanded a superlative overstimulation — skipping from climactic scene to climactic scene so that it’s always the most novel, deviant, kinky.

Furthermore, because I learned to cum from watching porn (I had watched porn even before I had first ejaculated), I never even had the chance to learn how to achieve an orgasm without a voyeuristic element — through an exploration of my bodily sensations or fantasies of intimacy that I conjured myself. I — and I don’t think I’m alone here — conditioned myself with the help of Internet pornographers to pair the feeling of ejaculation with the specific images that those sites provided. And even years later, I couldn’t cum without them.

This didn’t stop me from cumming, of course, since the images were seared into my brain. I can still exactly recall videos that I haven’t watched for six or seven years.

Even now, my “fantasies” are essentially rooted in the fantasies of my 14-year-old self. Age discrepancies in sex? Rape or S&M? These are fantasies of power and domination. This is not a particularly unusual (or necessarily bad) sexual preference, but it’s a nearly predetermined result for an immature adolescent being given a vast selection of pornography with no guidance.

I worried that Internet porn had forever warped my sexual development. I mean, if it’s playing on loop in my head, can I ever really stop “watching” porn?

* * *

It’s gotten better. I’ve had several long-term relationships, read some Foucault and even had a chance to experiment a bit with kinkier sex. What helped the most was talking to friends, particularly women, who have had more positive relationships with masturbation. A female friend explained how she used to have rape fantasies and wasn’t thrilled about it, so through masturbation she found ways to be turned on by “beauty,” whether a sculpted body or an open field. Another friend who had been masturbating from a very young age but had never watched pornography told me that she never fantasized in a voyeuristic way, but instead would remember a particular setting or feeling that aroused her, like waking up next to someone in a mess of sheets.

Now, I’m trying to reprogram myself — unlearn my socialized sexuality. But that’s left me very confused. I mean, what am I really trying to do? Discover my “natural” sexual attraction? Sexiness is always constructed — it used to be normatively hot to be fat and pale! What’s really the alternative to the socialized, porn-inspired sexiness that I’m seeking?

I think in the end, I just want to feel good about feeling good — to dislodge disgrace, guilt and addictive perversity from the part of my brain that controls arousal. I think kinky sex is wonderful; it acknowledges how shame, domination and weirdness truly pervade sexuality. But, I want to be able to explore kink — not be resigned to it. I’m grateful for my generation’s embrace of sexual liberation, but this feels more like a cage.

I feel estranged from my sexuality, like it’s somebody else’s. I want to reclaim my sexual desires. I’m not attempting to perform conversion therapy on myself to rid myself of the demons of my porno past. I’m trying to go back to 2002 and take away the computer and figure out what feels good through honest sensual exploration.

I lay in the bathtub and let the warm water rise around my thighs. My exposed parts feel unduly detected, like they know they’re the center of attention. I close my eyes and touch. Chest, stomach, hips — hair, neck, shoulders. Once I get to my penis, the discrepancy in sensitivity is startling. Rather than restraining fantasies, or intentionally focusing on them to get off, I try my best to be mesmerized by the touch — as though I’m only just discovering myself.

I can get off without thinking of anything “shameful” or pornographic, but it’s not as much fun — it physically doesn’t feel as good. Should I just resign myself to replaying MILFs with whips and chains in my head as I fuck someone I’ll never find sexy? Maybe I can find a cougar I can love or a partner who can convincingly role-play? Or should I keep exploring my body and hope that the pollution of XXX videos slowly clears from my masturbatory fantasies to reveal more dream-like, meditative, present, fleshy, alive states of mind and body?

If there’s an answer out there, it’s probably on the Internet.


By:Issac Abel/Salon

Isaac Abel is the pen name of a Brooklyn-based journalist who writes about issues of sexuality and gender. He loves getting responses to his columns and suggestions for stories. He can be reached at