Whitney Houston Porn Tape(s)…?

Several tabloids are reporting that Whitney’s boy toy, Ray J, is lying in wait to sell a whole library of pornographic pictures and videos featuring Whitney and him. He adamantly denies these reports, insisting that they are “despicable.”

But his denial is so half-hearted that he did not even bother to issue the perfunctory threat to sue.  And my informed cynicism is such that unless the victim of such allegedly libelous reports not only threatens to sue but actually does, their denial is just a PR distraction.

No doubt some of you recall how outraged former Senator John Edwards was by reports that, while he was pretending by day to be a devoted husband caring for his cancer-stricken wife, he was creeping by night with his mistress.  He not only denied the affair but dismissed the very idea that he would ever make a sex tape with her as preposterous.  Yet he turned out to be a boldfaced liar on both counts.

Then there’s this:

I’ve seen enough clips to gather that host LL Cool J did a superb job of setting a tone that prevented the show from degenerating into a series of maudlin tributes to Whitney. His opening prayer was a classy, pithy touch.

But why so many shots of her boy toy, Ray J? Especially since he was clearly looking to draw attention to himself by showing up just hours after Whitney’s death only to make a public display of his crocodile tears. The disassociated look on his sister Brandy’s face, as he was leaning on her throughout for “emotional” support, said it all. A grief-stricken boyfriend…? I think not. Hell, he’s so vain he probably thought the show was about him….

(The Grammys: a postmortem, The iPINIONS Journal, February 13, 2012)

But never mind this craven display, all one has to know about Ray J to believe these reports is that his only claim to fame is videotaping and then leaking that now infamous porno tape of Kim Kardashian and him.

I create stars. So you know Kim was created… Now I’m off to a new project.

(Examiner, February 23, 2011)

Perhaps Whitney was his new project. After all, he probably knew better than anybody that she had so destroyed her voice with drugs that the only way she was ever going to make money by opening her mouth again was by fellating a venal exhibitionist like him.

She reportedly ‘loved doting on him and would have done anything he asked – including making a sex tape.’

(Daily Mail, March 21, 2012)

This is why, despite his denial, I suspect he’s only trying to figure out when, not if, he’ll drop his latest hit(s) – Whitney’s memory, and her family’s sensibilities, be damned.

Mind you, notwithstanding taboos against speaking ill of the dead, I am loath to blame Ray J. After all, Whitney had to have known what she was getting into – not just when she began letting him get into her, but especially when he revealed (one presumes) that he can only get it up if they are videotaping their sex acts….

But at least Kim was alive to profit from the proceeds of this sexploitation. Whitney is dead. (And even if her heir Bobbi Kristina were entitled to her share, I fear she’d only end up blowing it on … blow.) Moreover, the only regret Ray J has ever expressed about his tape with Kim going viral is that all the focus on her fat ass made “him” look like a two-bit peanut.

Therefore, whatever your prurient interest in seeing a drug-addled Whitney, hardly looking her best, doing the nasty with this hustler, just bear in mind that the tapes will likely make it clear that he thinks the act is about him … yuck!

Sadly, the worldwide appetite for porn – especially featuring celebrities (a la Pam Anderson and Tommy Lee) – is so insatiable these days that Whitney in flagrante delicto would probably give that viral video on Joseph Kony a run for its money. More to the point, it would make Ray J very rich indeed.

This is where Clive Davis comes in. Davis of course is the über music producer Whitney called Daddy and encouraged her daughter to call Grandpa.  More to the point, he made more money off Whitney’s music than she did.

Therefore, if he has any regard for her memory or appreciation for all she gave him, he would negotiate a deal to purchase those tapes from Ray J – complete with ironclad promises that no others exist that can be stolen from his home or iPhone and “leaked” for sale online. That deal should also prohibit him from peddling a kiss-and-tell book about his relationship with Whitney, which he is no doubt planning to do.

And, of course, Davis should then burn them as if burning away the last of the many demons that haunted Whitney during the last years of her life.

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The Grammys: a postmortem