Kevin Samuels would be remembered more fondly had he recorded rap songs about dealing drugs, random sex with b***hes, and killing n***as.

Had he rapped, rather than talked, Samuels wouldn’t be remembered as polarizing, controversial, and misogynistic. He would be Nipsey Hussle, a rapper and activist, or Young Dolph, a promising rapper. Hussle and Dolph were gunned down in their respective communities.

Samuels, a clothing consultant turned YouTube and Instagram star known for blunt relationship advice, died unexpectedly late last week at the age of 57. Corporate media outlets memorialized him with headlines and stories that diminished him and his accomplishments.

NewsOne, a black outlet, labeled Samuels a “Misogynistic Image Consultant.” (NewsOne eventually toned down its headline.) Multiple outlets framed Samuels as “controversial.” In its news story, the New York Times, America’s paper of record, headlined Samuels as a “Polarizing YouTube Personality.” For contrast, the Times framed Hussle, a Los Angeles gang member, as a “Rapper Activist.” Read the Times story on Hussle and you come away thinking of the gangsta rapper as a future city councilman. Meanwhile, the Times framed Samuels as Harvey Weinstein’s black alter ego.

The post-life treatment of Samuels speaks to our cultural decay. Black men involved in, celebrating, or promoting criminal and immoral behavior are treated with a level of reverence once reserved for black men who espoused the values that made Samuels popular.

No American corporate media outlet would dare frame George Floyd as a “career criminal” in a headline. There’s far more proof of Floyd’s criminality than Samuels’ misogyny. It’s considered racist to even vaguely mention Floyd’s criminal past and/or the criminal behavior that placed him beneath the knee of a police officer.

But everyone, including the New York Times, is comfortable criticizing Kevin Samuels for speaking bluntly to black women during an Instagram live broadcast.

Samuels should have been a rapper. He should have covered himself in tattoos, braided his hair, exposed the crack of his rear end, mumbled profanity, and shouted f*** the police!

Had he done that, Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, LeBron James, Joy Reid, and Maxine Waters would wrestle for the right to speak at his funeral; white liberal media personalities would claim him as their favorite artist; and every corporate media platform from NBC to Netflix would try to raise him from the dead to host a show. The NFL would book Tupac Samuels for its Super Bowl halftime.

America’s modern media and entertainment industry rewards wickedness, especially black wickedness. This has been true for quite some time. What is new is the open hostility toward anything that is not overtly wicked.

Samuels wasn’t overtly wicked.

He presented himself immaculately. Tailored suit. Seated at a desk. A neatly groomed skin fade the Army would approve. Calm, confident demeanor. Crisp, concise language free of profanity and devoid of animus and emotion.

Samuels seemingly emerged from a long forgotten era. He was more “Leave It to Beaver” than “Black-ish,” more Ward Cleaver than Dre Johnson.

In a little more than two years, Samuels attracted 1.4 million YouTube subscribers and 1 million IG followers by wagging a finger at black women for adopting unrealistic, toxic, and matriarchal relationship expectations. He scolded black men, too, for failing to project a mature, professional image.

Samuels was a mix of Bill Cosby, Steve Harvey, and Malcolm X, delivering blunt and humorous relationship advice to an ever-growing audience. His meteoric rise on platforms built for Millennials and the woke defied conventional wisdom and exposed market neglect.

Despite corporate and social media brainwashing, black people still prefer authentic, uncomfortable truth more than the soothing lies of the establishment left. Our desire for traditional family, traditional roles, and traditional values has miraculously survived 60 years of assault.

That’s why the assault continues unabated and must include the denigration of Kevin Samuels in death. His success was dangerous. He inspired the black “manosphere,” the collection of content creators who oppose feminism and the matriarchy.

Corporate media keeps serving us Trevor Noah, Bomani Jones, Don Lemon, and a steady stream of beta males and their co-conspirator angry feminists. We still want Cliff Huxtable, Uncle Phil, and yes, Donald Trump. We want masculine men who crave the responsibility of leadership and providership.

Kevin Samuels was the black Joe Rogan. The left despises any heterosexual black man who prefers self-sufficiency, independence, and freedom of thought. Samuels was self-made. He stood firm on the values he believed in. He ignored his critics. He didn’t lie to women for popularity. He and his worldview attracted a major audience.

His bootstraps rise proves real men are still the world’s most valuable resource. They’re more treasured than the satanic degenerates, perverts, and criminals Hollywood, the music industry, and corporate media popularize.

The filth shoved down the minds of entertainment consumers and normalized in American culture is not a reflection of market demands. It’s a reflection of a wicked agenda orchestrated by decision-makers with no regard for biblical principles or values.

Any culture that has more respect for a gangsta rapper than a talk-show host who advises obese women (and men) to realistically adjust their relationship goals is tragically lost.