If the title doesn't give it away, F#ck Nick Cannon is the album where comedian, television host, and Mariah Carey's husband Nick Cannon presents his "after-hours" show, his "party album," or just about the biggest bunch of "filth, flarn, filth" you can cram into an album. Two albums really, as this long, long set sprawls across two discs on its physical release, but settle in for an all-out hoot-and-holler session, and this porno- and poop-fueled blast delivers with plenty of late-night and loose charm. The poop part comes from the proud admission that Cannon prefers to move his bowels with the door open wide for Mariah to "appreciate" ("Hey baby, why don't you sing me a song and help me get this out?"), but the porno talk trumps it on sheer volume. The comedian begins the set by surveying his audience, tallying all the married folks' anniversaries ("After fifty years of marriage you run out holes, don't you?") and later, runs around the hospital with his naked newborn son who comes with plenty of proof that he was born a boy. There's the "mommy porn" of Fifty Shades of Grey which, in an ambitious Richard Pryor way, slips into a discussion where bondage games are compared to playdate slavery for the privileged, but there's also the cheaper, Redd Foxx style in which he handles his new bidet alternative "Baby Wipes" ("ain't got worry about no dingleberries, nuthin') along with some taboo-busting talk about "Breast Milk" (the routine starts "Anybody in here ever try ..."). Some may not want to hear "Chris Brown is not a bad person, he's just got a bad publicist," and fans who want to think of Mariah as a diva may not want to hear all the shocking places her finger has been, but Cannon's able to effortlessly slide from the mainstream world to the red light district here, and laughing about dingleberries while getting some A-List insider gossip, is a fun, and funny, experience.
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