R is facing charges of prostitution with a minor so heads have been slapped by their own hands. Why? These hands are supposed to be allies. But sometimes something in the circumstances overrides the instinct not to slap your own forehead. Let me explain. R, or R Kelly, or Kels, or Robert, or The Accused, or the gentleman with his trousers way too far down depending on when and where you are at the time, is the singer of a long string of classic R&B hits, and a producer of more. Some would argue and be correct, that he is possibly the greatest one of his era. This fool did two decades on top. Not even Ne-Yo, who is sublimely talented, was able to match that, and have you heard Ne-Yo? That man is incredible. What a set of pipes. Wow. R spent those two decades doing a bit more than making hits. He made it no secret that he was very much a fan of the sex with the ladies. In fact, all of his songs are about proclaiming that proclivity (with a few exceptions, of course, but the fewness makes them more exceptional). He is currently facing charges of prostitution stemming from an incident in which he allegedly invited a teenage fan to his hotel room and offered her money for sex. She allegedly complied and the acts were performed upon the exchange of the money, $200 allegedly, and all was well, except for the fact that it was prostitution and the girl was, well, underage. That was the problem. This, of course, in addition to the fetid, foul, festering, stewing, steaming, smouldering, a pile of other sex abuse charges that follow R wherever he goes. He has been accused of individual acts of indecency involving minors, and of running a mass sex cult, and of general sleaze. R, it is said, is innocent until proven guilty. That is not entirely accurate. He is presumed innocent until proven guilty. One is not innocent if one did it, and one is guilty from the moment one does it. One is merely presumed innocent in court because unlike criminals, courts are civilised. This means until the conviction comes, we don’t know for sure whether he did it. He might have. For those who prefer to argue that he cannot possibly have done it, you have Twitter and hashtags waiting, but for the rest of us, come on now. Come on now. Come on. But let’s suspect that he is innocent and contemplate what this means. Six parts of a documentary called Surviving R. Kelly broke records in streaming this year; a tape and the resultant court case featuring someone who looked like him doing what we shall call a Russian Trump (because I don’t care about Trump’s presumption of innocence) on a minor is a pop-culture legend still referenced in rap songs and stand up specials. Twenty years of hits, and then after the hits, more years of allegations and accusations… if this man is innocent of all this then all aspiring R&B stars need to take heed: The immensity and intricacy of the conspiracy that can be built against you is so formidable that you might as well get on Facebook live and have a chemical castration broadcast publicly before you begin your career, just so you can remove any doubt before the cases start piling. Especially if you look like R. Kelly with his filthy little peepy eyes that make me feel violated every time I see a photograph of him. I feel as if he is undressing me with his eyes through the photograph. But then again, you know I am not an objective impartial commentator. I think he did it. And I’m no longer sure about anyone else. Every morning as I say my prayers I reserve a moment to ask the Lord to preserve Ne-Yo. Please please join me in praying that famous prayer African mothers to offer for their sons: let’s pray that Ne-Yo remains a good boy.
