I always forget about what's on BET, since half the time I flip to it, there's some kind of fiery preacher, churchy-type stuff on there. I always seem to miss "106 and Park," but since I live in the heart of Harlem, listen to Hot97 and Power105 regularly, and get frequent updates about what goes on in the Dirrty Dirrty from LL Cool Jew, I don't need to catch BET's video countdowns to keep my finger on the pulse of what's hot in the hip-hop community. However, I made a point to catch what may be the most kick-ass programming of the spring: "Lil' Kim: Countdown to Lockdown," a reality show following the Queen Bitch in her final days prior to reporting to federal prison.

I love Lil' Kim. She changed my life, and I mean that seriously. Before I heard Lil' Kim's first CD Hard Core at the beginning of my freshman year at Smith in 1996, I was an unattractive femi-nazi rocking oversized men's shirts, a heinous bleached boy-cut, and a most unfortunate fondness for wool socks with Birkenstock clogs. After a few riotous nights drinking chamomile tea and discussing the music/folk poetry of the unkempt (and untalented) Ani DiFranco with several cadres of overall-clad Smith trainee dykes, I decided to try something new. I hung out with this girl from NYC who managed to score a 12-pack of Natty Light, an eighth of shitty Assachussetts weed, and a carton of Parliament Lights, and she was listening to Lil' Kim. As soon as I heard the magical words, "I used to be scared of a dick, now I throw lips to the shit, handle it like a real bitch, etc.," I was permanently altered. I decided that I would rather emulate a woman who wears chinchilla fur bikinis than a white bitch with dreadlocks, bongo drums, and a chip on her shoulder about the patriarchy. Therefore, I grew out my hair, started wearing makeup, replaced my collection of sack-like Eddie Bauer pullovers with fitted plunging V-necks, and stocked up on push-up bras. The hard-drinking, potty-mouthed dick jockey that I am today is in part due to Lil' Kim's in-your-face, unapologetic inspiration. Therefore, even though some of Lil' Kim's work has paled in comparison to her original magnum opus Hard Core (don't bother purchasing The Notorious KIM or La Bella Mafia, with the exception of "How Many Licks?" and "Magic Stick," respectively, they suck), I am committed to supporting Kim Jones in any endeavor, including reality television.

An article in the Washington Post describes "Countdown to Lockdown" as a "docudrama," "compelling television," with a "minstrelesque vibe." I don't know about its resemblance to wandering medieval musician-storytellers, but this shit couldn't be more compelling. First, the show begins with Kim proclaiming her innocence. That's pretty amazing, considering she was not only convicted, but admitted her guilt when she tearfully begged the judge for leniency at her sentencing. However, per Kim's interpretation of American justice, you are innocent even after being proven guilty. My sentimental love for Kim lets me be quite forgiving about the accuracy of her observations, both about her criminal record and other things. For example, she also claims that with regard to her female body parts there "ain't no bitch fresher than Kim," and given her propensity for fucking anything that moves, I'm willing to bet that's only true if she's being compared with Paris Hilton. However, Lil' Kim sounds good saying it, so I'm not going to debate the woman, because as I mentioned, I have a real soft spot in my heart for her and she can do no wrong as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, the episode of "Countdown to Lockdown" I've seen so far documents Lil' Kim shrieking at her entourage about her unhappiness with her appearance in the "Lighters Up" video, and her concerns that she might not be able to reshoot before she has to "do a year and a day for this bullshit." Of course, by "bullshit" Lil' Kim means "perjuring myself before a federal grand jury," but let's face it, she never would have done it if she knew she'd be sold out by that bastard Lil' Caesar, formerly a bitch pleaser and now just a has-been, and the rest of the brokeass Junior M.A.F.I.A. (according to the song "Spell Check" on her latest album, she suggests that "I'm more nigga than them bitch-ass guys" with regard to Lil' Caese and the other members of the J.M. on account of their cooperating with the prosecution.) Then, Kim takes a quick break from bitching about her dissatisfaction with her video to demand "a Welch's grape juice or Hawaiian punch or somethin." In other words, this show is almost exactly as I imagined it would be.

Once she is placated by a sugary juice-flavored beverage, Kim is back on the phone cussing someone out about her image in the video. She shouts, "I'm a chameleon. My looks change before yo' eyes." Well, that is certainly true. Since she showed up looking petite and cute in 1996, she's had quite a lot of work done. Granted, Kim's always had a fondness for wigs and colored contacts, but over the years she's hit the surgeon pretty hard too. She definitely has undergone breast augmentation, rhinoplasty, lip collagen injections, chin implants, and cheek implants, and I'm betting some generalized lipo and other less obvious work as well. The show promises, however, that in preparation for her residence in the big house, Kim will remove all her extensions and acrylic nails and transform into "Kimberly Jones." There are still four episodes left, so I can't wait to see what her nappified ass looks right before she reports to "Lockdown."

Just to make sure things are going well for her now that she's about halfway through her sentence, I'm going to mail her a couple of cartons of smokes in the hopes that she can buy herself something nice, like a brief reprieve from lesbian gang rape in the prison delousing shower, or possibly a chance to get her leaking breast implant repaired. Like Martha Stewart before her, Lil' Kim is paying her debt to society, and she deserves all the respect and honor that a program like "Countdown to Lockdown" affords her. God bless Lil' Kim.