Sean ‘P. Diddy’ ‘Puffy’ ‘Puff Daddy’ Combs

I guess life has been good since his acquittal on charges of brandishing a gun in Times Square while one of his posse shot three innocent bystanders. I still believe his driver, who testified that not only did he do it, but he offered him $50,000 to take the fall.

But this is America, where every criminal has the God-given right to become a multimillionaire. And a narcissist. The money… eh. I’ll never understand it, but if people want to pay for his music, his clothes, his acne medication (yeah, you read correctly), then so be it. But by God’s hairy balls, get his ugly mug out of my face every two-and-a-half minutes!

Of the bad boy’s Bad Boy Ventures: Notorious Entertainment, Daddy’s House Publishing, Justin Combs Publishing, Bad Boy Productions, Bad Boy Films, Bad Boy Books, and Bad Boy Giant Buck Teeth All Up In My Grill, I know little. Please don’t educate me.

Yet I see Diddy’s face so often, I would think I could charge him with stalking me. Since his 2001 acquittal, he’s made more than 100 television guest appearances. The gat toting bad boy appeared on Regis and Oprah, for fuck’s sake. And that’s just Diddy showing up so that Diddy can see Diddy’s face on TV. He has dozens more films, commercials, and other multimedia projects. Many, no surprise, produced by one of his own companies.

I can’t escape the fucker. I went to Macy’s the other day. Get this: I’m still reeling from the discovery of shirts bearing the name of Donald Trump, and the thought of dressing like that smelly sleazeball, when I trip over an entire display of Sean John formal wear complete with a picture of the designer, one Diddy McPuffincombs.

The bastard is on my TV selling Pepsi. He’s selling stinking toilet water while he lounges in bed with two hookers. He’s extolling the virtues of Proactiv acne medication… you mean he used to be even uglier?! Says Diddicombs, “it maintains my sexy and moisturizes my situation.” It moisturized his… situation. I don’t want to know about his moist situation. I want to boil my soul just thinking about it.

And now, in arguably the worst of his vanity projects, he’s got 5 pretty young girls fawning all over him for money on Making the Band, the reality show where self-esteem lacking wannabe singers and dancers allow a rat-toothed uncle-fucker to saunter in and arrogantly berate them once per week. He always wear the same supercilious look of affected distain.

Sean, take your horsy looking caps, and just go away!

Can we add this guy to the list?

Oh, yes, indeed. I cannot believe that there are really women out there ready to cat fight over this, this…thing. It’s got to be scripted, because I just won’t accept the idea of anyone honestly going that nuts over someone who’s teeth look like they’ve been bronzed for posterity and who constantly wears that horrid Viking hat!

Looking at that picture inspires me to renew the petition for a pukey smiley!

At least he doesn’t have pimples any more - something you can learn by seeing him hock some acne remedy on cable TV.

No way he said that.

You know he did.

Apparently reggaeton artist Residente Calle 13 shares your hatred of all things Puffy.

“Y al rato ese prieto me dijo que se llamaba Puff Daddy
Y que el era el Sugar Daddy de todos los Mack Daddies
Me salio de atrás pa’ alante, bien bocón como altoparlante
Así que lo escupí con salsa picante y al instante se puso de pies
Y en una senta’ le dije que tenia la lengua malcria’
(“Do you know who I am?”) ¡Te dije que no me llamo Juan!
Y ahí fue que lo cruce por la quija’,”

And then that dark guy told me his name was Puff Daddy
And that he was the sugar daddy of all the Mack Daddies
He came out from behind me, [this is a bit slangy so I can’t translate it properly - something about mouthing off?]
That was when I spit hot sauce at him and he suddenly stood up
And I told him he was being rude
(“Do you know who I am?” [Puff Daddy’s voice]) I told him no, my name is Juan!
And that was when I punched him in the jaw.

I should think that EVERYONE shares my hatred. Maybe not with the white hot intensity that only the borderline insane can muster, but share a few watts nonetheless.

What the fuck is that?! I’ve seen better looking heads on Mexican beer.

I manage to get through whole weeks without coming any closer to him than seeing his name in a TV listing. I think you have become somehow allergic to P Diddy. because it seems to me he’s not so omni-present as you claim.

Maybe there’s treatment available?

Blech, I agree. And while I don’t see him as often as the OP does, ANY sighting at all is way too much.

I think that’s Flavor Flav. Please, heed our vote for the barf smiley. It’s sorely, sorely needed here. Sorely! :smiley:

Aw, give the guy a break, jeez, it’s not like he wears those horns all the time.

Flavor Flav has started to look a LOT like the black version of Gollum.

I suppose he’s good to have around if you suddenly need to know what time it is, though.

I’d go with “big old mouth like a loudspeaker”.