"I'd rather go back to Jew York. I thought the blacks in Baltimore were bad, but these San Francisco queers.... oooo weee."
Kenny Powers
A fascinating phenomenon that you may have noticed that has come about as part of our culture of equality and fairness, is the use of equal opportunity discrimination and derogation. It is a well-settled faux pas, bordering on crime in some circles to isolate and derogate any particular ethnic, religious, handicapped, sexually-oriented, or otherwise protected group of people. However, if you are so inclined to use a particular group to fuel your personal comic desires, it is now perfectly acceptable, as long as you treat all of the major groups equally. The entertainment industry the most fertile ground upon which this new phenomenon has been demonstrated. Take for example, Harold and Kumar: Escape from Guantanamo Bay. In my estimation, certainly the most ignorant movie I have ever observed. Aside from the parts of that involved grotesque suggestions of homosexual prison sex-acts, and shamelessly disgusting displays of male genitals, its kinda funny, if only for its ballsiness. In short order, you can see a relentless detective try to pry information from a black witness by threatening to pour out the contents of a can of grape soda right in front of his face. In the background you hear one of the onlookers yell "Ask him if he's got any kool-aid." He later employed a similar pour out trick in the interrogation room, only this time with two jewish boys, and swapping out the grape soda for a jar full of pennies. To which one of the young fellas instantly responds, "Only seven dollars?"
Or take The Boondocks. A coouple jewels from that wild little cartoon.
Ann Coulter - "If black people don't want to get arrested so much, maybe they should stop riding around in stolen cars."
Over the Airport Loudspeaker - "While on Airport property, please refrain from looking Muslim at all times."
Eastbound and Down... You see how Kenny Powers wants to carry it. All you gotta do is spread the love, and no one can call you racist.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Dudes and Facebook Status Updates
I have said before that I think it is really unnecessary, and rather effeminate for a man to spend a surplus of time on facebook. For one thing, it really is set up to cater more towards women. Photo albums, and new profile pics, and updates on peoples personal business, and instant chats. (Did we really need another medium of instant internet communication? Fuck no.) The whole thing is really just one big public exercise in vanity.
Prior to the days of the internet this whole arena of social customs was typically reserved to women, and the softer, more gossipy variety of males that normal dudes spent a good amount of time making fun of in high school. I mean really before facebook when was the last time a dude showed you pictures he took of himself doing anything? If your answer is never, congratulations you probably have normal male peers in your life.
But it's one thing to be on facebook, after all there are broads on facebook and dudes will go wherever the broads are, that's the nature of things. But it starts to become a bit too much when dudes assimilate so much to the largely feminized facebook culture that they start to do shit that they really need not do. Case in point, status updates. Now I can let the odd update slide here and there if something notable happens, but other than that how much shit goes on during the course of your day that you think is so fucking special that everyone else needs to know about it? A man should have no need to do hourly, daily, or even semi-daily status updates on facebook that shit is girly. Seriously? What real man that you respect do you know that has so much shit he wants to tell you about his day that he would deliberately get on an online social networking site, type that dumb ass shit, and post it for all his buddies to see? And if he does choose to do this, it better be the funniest shit I've ever seen in my life, otherwise you've just entered the realm of the man-turned-bitch. If you are updating your facebook status routinely, you are a bitch. Who the fuck cares what you're doing?
As a man, you should be at work, or school. And if you're at either one of these places I already know what the fuck is going on, and so does every other man on the planet who isn't a bitch. You're at work, work/class sucks, you're hungry, you saw a hot ass chick with some big breasts and a fat ass that you want to fuck but probably won't, and now you're ready to go home. It really is that simple.
It's always been socially acceptable for girls/women to have more to say about their day to day operations. Look no further than your own relationships, or your parents, or even TV. That beer commercial where the chick comes home and wants to "vent" and her knucklehead dude thinks she's talking about some stupid fucking beer can with a slot in it. (By the way this is how you know you make a shit product if you have to try to sell people on the fucking container it comes in.) But all she wanted to do was tell him about her day, cause her day is much more dramatic than his. How? I have no fucking idea but I don't care, that's the way it is, and we should leave it that way. But this is no excuse for men to start bitching about their days, nobody wants to hear that shit. A grown man whining? Fuck that. You shouldn't do it in real life, and you shouldn't do it on the internet. Keep that shit to yourself and man the fuck up.
I'm out.
Prior to the days of the internet this whole arena of social customs was typically reserved to women, and the softer, more gossipy variety of males that normal dudes spent a good amount of time making fun of in high school. I mean really before facebook when was the last time a dude showed you pictures he took of himself doing anything? If your answer is never, congratulations you probably have normal male peers in your life.
But it's one thing to be on facebook, after all there are broads on facebook and dudes will go wherever the broads are, that's the nature of things. But it starts to become a bit too much when dudes assimilate so much to the largely feminized facebook culture that they start to do shit that they really need not do. Case in point, status updates. Now I can let the odd update slide here and there if something notable happens, but other than that how much shit goes on during the course of your day that you think is so fucking special that everyone else needs to know about it? A man should have no need to do hourly, daily, or even semi-daily status updates on facebook that shit is girly. Seriously? What real man that you respect do you know that has so much shit he wants to tell you about his day that he would deliberately get on an online social networking site, type that dumb ass shit, and post it for all his buddies to see? And if he does choose to do this, it better be the funniest shit I've ever seen in my life, otherwise you've just entered the realm of the man-turned-bitch. If you are updating your facebook status routinely, you are a bitch. Who the fuck cares what you're doing?
As a man, you should be at work, or school. And if you're at either one of these places I already know what the fuck is going on, and so does every other man on the planet who isn't a bitch. You're at work, work/class sucks, you're hungry, you saw a hot ass chick with some big breasts and a fat ass that you want to fuck but probably won't, and now you're ready to go home. It really is that simple.
It's always been socially acceptable for girls/women to have more to say about their day to day operations. Look no further than your own relationships, or your parents, or even TV. That beer commercial where the chick comes home and wants to "vent" and her knucklehead dude thinks she's talking about some stupid fucking beer can with a slot in it. (By the way this is how you know you make a shit product if you have to try to sell people on the fucking container it comes in.) But all she wanted to do was tell him about her day, cause her day is much more dramatic than his. How? I have no fucking idea but I don't care, that's the way it is, and we should leave it that way. But this is no excuse for men to start bitching about their days, nobody wants to hear that shit. A grown man whining? Fuck that. You shouldn't do it in real life, and you shouldn't do it on the internet. Keep that shit to yourself and man the fuck up.
I'm out.
Monday, March 16, 2009
postscript: a view from the streets
Just in case you couldn't narrow it down to 2 like they tell you on standardized multiple choice tests, they put up this big fucking billboard to let you know that help is here. I know some people have fucked up situations to deal with, but I can't get past the idea that we're all just becoming a little too complacent to reckless behavior when we start advertising partial remedies to people's parental fuck-ups like it's ok to just be out in these streets acting like scumbags. And if you happen to be the dude on the other side of this poster, praying that it was one of the other dudes she was fucking that knocked her up instead of you, learn a lesson, don't be a dickhead. Just cause your parents fucked up, doesn't mean you gotta go and fuck up the next round of kids.
This place should not even have to exist. I understand CPCs as they are called are actually in the business of talking girls out of abortions, but how are they just gonna call it a crisis pregnancy center? The whole notion is depressing and it made my stomach hurt a little bit to think that this is how far we've come as people. This particular venue is in a predominantly Mexican neighborhood on the east side, sandwiched right between the local high school and the main branch of the free library. School, library, crisis pregnancy center. God help us all.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Observations from Baltimore City
Everyday it seems something funny, revealing, or otherwise noteworthy happens in everyday life, here are just a few that I noticed.
A few weeks ago, on the front page of the Baltimore Sun was the city police department complimenting itself on a job well done with one of the biggest drug busts in recent memory in a city noted for having very little impact on its pandemic drug problem. On the front page was a picture of 40 kilograms of cocaine that was seized and spread out all over the table, around a long stack of 100, 50, and 20 dollar bills. "About $11,000 in cash was recovered along with the drugs; no weapons were found. Police are consulting with federal authorities to determine the next steps in the investigation." Now my knowledge of the illegal drug trade is admittedly rather amateur, but what I do know is this. The police kicked down the door of a major drug operation with almost 90 pounds of coke on the premises, and came away with 11 grand cash? Who are these people talking to? This is not even believable, if you're buying that much cocaine, probably turning it into crack and selling it on the streets of Baltimore, 11,000 isn't even believable street money. They could have at least done the public the service of pretending they weren't some scraping off the top crooked ass dickheads. But hey, it's a recession.
On a disheartening note, this encounter was observed.
While driving on Baltimore Street, two girls who apparently hadn't seen each other for a while ran into each other on the sidewalk. The exchange:
"Hey girl, how you doing?"
"I'm good, I had an abortion yesterday, I'm bout to go get something to eat now."
Wow. Just rolled off her tongue like it was a routine check-up, like an oil change. An abortion. Good grief. This is where we're at?
A few weeks ago, on the front page of the Baltimore Sun was the city police department complimenting itself on a job well done with one of the biggest drug busts in recent memory in a city noted for having very little impact on its pandemic drug problem. On the front page was a picture of 40 kilograms of cocaine that was seized and spread out all over the table, around a long stack of 100, 50, and 20 dollar bills. "About $11,000 in cash was recovered along with the drugs; no weapons were found. Police are consulting with federal authorities to determine the next steps in the investigation." Now my knowledge of the illegal drug trade is admittedly rather amateur, but what I do know is this. The police kicked down the door of a major drug operation with almost 90 pounds of coke on the premises, and came away with 11 grand cash? Who are these people talking to? This is not even believable, if you're buying that much cocaine, probably turning it into crack and selling it on the streets of Baltimore, 11,000 isn't even believable street money. They could have at least done the public the service of pretending they weren't some scraping off the top crooked ass dickheads. But hey, it's a recession.
On a disheartening note, this encounter was observed.
While driving on Baltimore Street, two girls who apparently hadn't seen each other for a while ran into each other on the sidewalk. The exchange:
"Hey girl, how you doing?"
"I'm good, I had an abortion yesterday, I'm bout to go get something to eat now."
Wow. Just rolled off her tongue like it was a routine check-up, like an oil change. An abortion. Good grief. This is where we're at?
Monday, March 09, 2009
A Man must have a Code
"There is no shame in the world, and without shame, you cannot have honor. We live in a world ruled by consensus."
-Milius
This is what I think. Everyone needs to have a code, a set of standards for themselves that set a bare minimum of expectations below which they will not venture. I think shamelessness has yielded the most critical wounds of cultural sin to our collective humanity. A person's sense of their own self and the meaning they convey through to those around them may be all that separates us from the brutish realities of unkempt human nature. Pure self-interest, moral isolation, and complete social de-evolution. It would be impossible for anything resembling a real society to exist under an atmosphere so inhospitable to cooperation, and upon parched land purged of all the fluidity of thought imbued through the ability to let life's lessons guide future decisions to a better end. It is the perspective of our own selves as members of a society, accountable to more than just our own individual interests that we seek to protect when we hold ourselves to admittedly difficult standards. But the case has always been that some of us require only the immediate, instantly gratifying comforts that really only come when we choose to regulate our behavior based on nothing beyond ease and impulse.
I know many people like this. I know few people who actually hold themselves accountable to a thoughtful purpose. It doesn't have to be anything grandiose or transcendent in scale, but just humanistic. Something that will allow you to preserve your sense of dignity, and not require constant reinforcement and external validation in order for you to carry it. If you can't carry your own life in a dignified manner without giving yourself over to purely self-serving, hedonistic interests, what kind of world are you leaving for the one's that come next, our own children even? I think having a code in life, no matter how big or small, is all that really separates us from the people we encounter in life who we thank God we are not, and to whom we can only hope our own children don't assimilate.
-Milius
This is what I think. Everyone needs to have a code, a set of standards for themselves that set a bare minimum of expectations below which they will not venture. I think shamelessness has yielded the most critical wounds of cultural sin to our collective humanity. A person's sense of their own self and the meaning they convey through to those around them may be all that separates us from the brutish realities of unkempt human nature. Pure self-interest, moral isolation, and complete social de-evolution. It would be impossible for anything resembling a real society to exist under an atmosphere so inhospitable to cooperation, and upon parched land purged of all the fluidity of thought imbued through the ability to let life's lessons guide future decisions to a better end. It is the perspective of our own selves as members of a society, accountable to more than just our own individual interests that we seek to protect when we hold ourselves to admittedly difficult standards. But the case has always been that some of us require only the immediate, instantly gratifying comforts that really only come when we choose to regulate our behavior based on nothing beyond ease and impulse.
I know many people like this. I know few people who actually hold themselves accountable to a thoughtful purpose. It doesn't have to be anything grandiose or transcendent in scale, but just humanistic. Something that will allow you to preserve your sense of dignity, and not require constant reinforcement and external validation in order for you to carry it. If you can't carry your own life in a dignified manner without giving yourself over to purely self-serving, hedonistic interests, what kind of world are you leaving for the one's that come next, our own children even? I think having a code in life, no matter how big or small, is all that really separates us from the people we encounter in life who we thank God we are not, and to whom we can only hope our own children don't assimilate.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
The Name Game Part 2: some other shit that makes me mad
You can't just make up a name and wrap it around some idea, and then push it in my face like it has some kind of credibility just because it can be addressed. If you go to cnn.com, and scroll down to the headlines by section and look under special coverage, you will see "The First 100 days: Track the issues and policies." What the fuck does that mean? The first hundred days? This dude is the President, and he's black. The first 100 days? Like on day 101, the entire worldwide news media is gonna crawl out of this man's ass and just let him do his job without reporting every statement he makes, every wave, every gesture, it's amazing he finds time to fart without somebody catching it on tape. Now I understand, he's the President, he's gonna get watched, fine. But call it what it is. Reporters and media people, doing their fucking job. Trying to get all fancy and shit. Like people are sitting around the dinner table asking each other, "So have you checked on the first 100 days lately? No? You gotta read the first 100, there's not ever gonna be another first 100 days, and you know the 2nd hundred isn't gonna be nearly as good cause it's almost impossible to make a good sequel these days." These people are too much.
Here's another one that I find hilarious, "The B n' T". New York is notorious for this shit. It's probably the center of the, we-gotta-word-for-it-now, so-it's-cool-and-you-should-use-it, and-if you-don't-know-what-it-means, you're-a-sambo-and-a-coon mentality. The B n' T is the term they use for non-Manhattanites. The people that use the bridges and tunnels to come in for the evening, and use them again to leave after they've emptied their wallets and have nothing to show for it but a debit card statement that reads like a trail bread crumbs of from cabs, to bars, and restaurants all over the city, only the bread is real. Or at least it was, now it is gone. And then that's what they got for me once I go? Looking at the back of my head as I leave, snickering cause I'm a B n' T? I can't do it. That place is crazy, it drives me crazy. It drives everyone crazy eventually I think, the only difference is how fast it happens. Nobody's really from manhattan anyway, but even so. Did you really need another word for tourists?
Here's another one that I find hilarious, "The B n' T". New York is notorious for this shit. It's probably the center of the, we-gotta-word-for-it-now, so-it's-cool-and-you-should-use-it, and-if you-don't-know-what-it-means, you're-a-sambo-and-a-coon mentality. The B n' T is the term they use for non-Manhattanites. The people that use the bridges and tunnels to come in for the evening, and use them again to leave after they've emptied their wallets and have nothing to show for it but a debit card statement that reads like a trail bread crumbs of from cabs, to bars, and restaurants all over the city, only the bread is real. Or at least it was, now it is gone. And then that's what they got for me once I go? Looking at the back of my head as I leave, snickering cause I'm a B n' T? I can't do it. That place is crazy, it drives me crazy. It drives everyone crazy eventually I think, the only difference is how fast it happens. Nobody's really from manhattan anyway, but even so. Did you really need another word for tourists?
The Name Game Part 1: Swagger
"dumb shit, by any other name..."
We have a lot of dumb shit in our culture. Fortunately for those who produce and profit from dumb shit, we have an abundance of dickheads and morons that come in many different varieties that are more than happy to absorb the dumb shit and nonsense into their lives. But in order for the dumb shit and nonsense to achieve optimal absorption in the minds of your common dickhead, it must have a name. Preferably simple, and containing as few syllables as possible for the memory-challenged. Sometimes, those in the dumb shit and nonsense industry can even get away with putting a new name on an old dumb shit concept.
Swagger. If you look it up, the noun swagger is defined as an ostentatious display of arrogance or conceit. In its verb form, it is to boast, or brag noisily. All very desirable characteristics, no doubt. But my beef with this word comes from its common employment among the young pop crowd. If questioned as to the meaning of this word in its everyday sense, the common dickhead will offer a variety of definitions. A few samples: "It's like a attitude."; "Confidence."; "It's kinda like sexiness with a thug appeal." I've heard Lebron has it, I've heard Obama has it, I've heard Denzel Washington has it, I've even heard Tyler Hansbrough has it. So, aside from success, what the fuck is it?
Urbandictionary.com, (which I can't even believe is real), says swagger is a person's style, the way they walk, talk, dress. But it seems to me we already had plenty of words for all of this shit, words that were much more clear, much more sensible, and much less irresponsibly thrown about as if we're all gonna go through swagger withdrawal if we can't use the word at least 7 times a day. The word and all of it's equally obnoxious permutations are omnipresent in popular media: swag, swagnificent, first-team all swag, swaggalacity. I find it even funnier that as I'm writing this, the little squiggly line that shows up when the computer doesn't recognize a word isn't showing up under notta one swag derivative. This shit is retarded. People measure themselves against this concept. A word with an at best ambiguous meaning, that is almost exclusively used by people who should be anything but arrogant, conceited, or modeled after. A while ago I asked a girl I know from the corniest county in Maryland just exactly how she defines that word, and she responded, "You don't know cause you ain't got it." Maybe, but I feel quite comfortable not needing to have made up definitions of words that are easier for rappers to rhyme with to describe myself. That shits childish. My man Mike might have put it best, "...maybe you're right, I don't have swagger. I guess I'm stuck with manhood."
We have a lot of dumb shit in our culture. Fortunately for those who produce and profit from dumb shit, we have an abundance of dickheads and morons that come in many different varieties that are more than happy to absorb the dumb shit and nonsense into their lives. But in order for the dumb shit and nonsense to achieve optimal absorption in the minds of your common dickhead, it must have a name. Preferably simple, and containing as few syllables as possible for the memory-challenged. Sometimes, those in the dumb shit and nonsense industry can even get away with putting a new name on an old dumb shit concept.
Swagger. If you look it up, the noun swagger is defined as an ostentatious display of arrogance or conceit. In its verb form, it is to boast, or brag noisily. All very desirable characteristics, no doubt. But my beef with this word comes from its common employment among the young pop crowd. If questioned as to the meaning of this word in its everyday sense, the common dickhead will offer a variety of definitions. A few samples: "It's like a attitude."; "Confidence."; "It's kinda like sexiness with a thug appeal." I've heard Lebron has it, I've heard Obama has it, I've heard Denzel Washington has it, I've even heard Tyler Hansbrough has it. So, aside from success, what the fuck is it?
Urbandictionary.com, (which I can't even believe is real), says swagger is a person's style, the way they walk, talk, dress. But it seems to me we already had plenty of words for all of this shit, words that were much more clear, much more sensible, and much less irresponsibly thrown about as if we're all gonna go through swagger withdrawal if we can't use the word at least 7 times a day. The word and all of it's equally obnoxious permutations are omnipresent in popular media: swag, swagnificent, first-team all swag, swaggalacity. I find it even funnier that as I'm writing this, the little squiggly line that shows up when the computer doesn't recognize a word isn't showing up under notta one swag derivative. This shit is retarded. People measure themselves against this concept. A word with an at best ambiguous meaning, that is almost exclusively used by people who should be anything but arrogant, conceited, or modeled after. A while ago I asked a girl I know from the corniest county in Maryland just exactly how she defines that word, and she responded, "You don't know cause you ain't got it." Maybe, but I feel quite comfortable not needing to have made up definitions of words that are easier for rappers to rhyme with to describe myself. That shits childish. My man Mike might have put it best, "...maybe you're right, I don't have swagger. I guess I'm stuck with manhood."
Sunday, February 22, 2009
freud?
--Word to the wise - some of the imagery contained herein is somewhat disturbing to myself, but I feel the urge to write it all out anyway. Any viewers who would rather not peer into a strange mind at rest, feel free to pass on this one.--
This is an odd venue to get into dreams and shit, but sometimes I'm just struck by the things that the mind creates while the body rests.
I never really gave much thought to what it meant when I heard people say they woke up in a sweat. It happened the other night, and aside from being disgusting, and disruptive to any further sleep I would get, it was an interesting experience.
I remember when I had just woken up, before I had even given any thought to why I was so hot, one of the first things that came to my mind was hell. That's what it felt like in my mind just a short while ago. I don't know how other people's dreams work, but mine have a rather staccato, shifty quality of imagery to them, so to anyone who is still reading this, bear with me.
Imagine riding along a dark dirt road at night, surrounded by thin mats of shrubbery high enough to conceal a man standing. It must have been one of those open-top safari style jeeps, I don't know who was driving, but I was riding in the back, and it was a little bumpy. We came around a bend, and the brush cover got gradually thicker, growing into full on forest as you got further away from the road. There was a faint glow as of a campfire all around bordering the road and the GI Joe style army tents which were scattered into the distance. All of a sudden, I knew I was out of place, but I wasn't sure if they knew. There were people, disgruntled, beaten looking soldiers sitting on makeshift chairs outside of their tents. Then there was the clatter of automatic gunfire, in no particular direction, but coming from all around me the further we drove on the road. One got the sense of anger, hostility aimed at no particular place, just unabashed disdain. Enmity.
It looked like there was just as likely to be any number of wild carnivorous predators of the African bush-country on the receiving end of that fire than anything else, but any of God's creatures would have long since perished in the face of such incessant, hateful discharge of assault weaponry. Suddenly I had a gun myself. Something like an M-16, it felt almost weightless in my hands. The broken faces and tattooed necks of shaven female marines stared back at me with meaningless eyes, discerning if I was a foe. I don't think they were shooting each other, but I don't think they had any friends either. I figured as long as I held my weapon close as if I was ready to use it I was safe. Relatively. I had no idea what I was supposed to be shooting at. But I feared if I shot at nothing, they would know I wasn't one of them, and that certainly be bad. As if by some natural reaction to the rising tension, I remembered I could fly, or rather, slowly begin to rise from the back of the jeep like a hot air balloon, and head for the relative safety of one of the high tree tops. When I got a few feet off the ground I realized that my latest trick would surely blow my cover if spotted. One of the bald-headed, soul-less eyed lady marines glanced up at me with the deliberation of a hollywood zombie. Before she had a chance to raise her rifle I instinctively put one in her face from about 50 feet in the air, it felt less personal from that distance. I quickly glanced around my periphery to see if anyone had noticed the lone shot amongst the background cacophony that broke up the otherwise deafening silence of a vast unknown wilderness. I reached a perch in the trees where I thought I would be able to get a better view and discern what was happening. But I never managed to turn my glance from the body that barely moved as I dispatched the life it contained. The chaos continued.
Then suddenly, my safe perch in the tree became a safe perch up in a high window sill, in my 10th grade study hall room back at Gilman. The ceiling was much higher for some reason, and I was still in hiding, but the soldiers were now teachers and deans from my old school that I didn't recognize. I glanced to my left and up on the ledge with me was my dog Django. I shuffled to hide his presence behind a makeshift curtain that was clearly too small to conceal either of us. My sense of danger heightened as the activity in the room below increased. I sensed if they saw me, it would be curtains for both of us, why I don't know. But there was a writing. An assignment that I had turned in, perhaps that was what they were looking for. I knew it was brilliant. If only they would read it, they would spare me my torturous fate as they could now see my value. It worked. As if by magic they had read it, and they loved it. And I glided down from my perch like a bird of prey, not a single flap of my arms, just gliding. And there was peace.
But I woke up in a sweat, and terrified.
This is an odd venue to get into dreams and shit, but sometimes I'm just struck by the things that the mind creates while the body rests.
I never really gave much thought to what it meant when I heard people say they woke up in a sweat. It happened the other night, and aside from being disgusting, and disruptive to any further sleep I would get, it was an interesting experience.
I remember when I had just woken up, before I had even given any thought to why I was so hot, one of the first things that came to my mind was hell. That's what it felt like in my mind just a short while ago. I don't know how other people's dreams work, but mine have a rather staccato, shifty quality of imagery to them, so to anyone who is still reading this, bear with me.
Imagine riding along a dark dirt road at night, surrounded by thin mats of shrubbery high enough to conceal a man standing. It must have been one of those open-top safari style jeeps, I don't know who was driving, but I was riding in the back, and it was a little bumpy. We came around a bend, and the brush cover got gradually thicker, growing into full on forest as you got further away from the road. There was a faint glow as of a campfire all around bordering the road and the GI Joe style army tents which were scattered into the distance. All of a sudden, I knew I was out of place, but I wasn't sure if they knew. There were people, disgruntled, beaten looking soldiers sitting on makeshift chairs outside of their tents. Then there was the clatter of automatic gunfire, in no particular direction, but coming from all around me the further we drove on the road. One got the sense of anger, hostility aimed at no particular place, just unabashed disdain. Enmity.
It looked like there was just as likely to be any number of wild carnivorous predators of the African bush-country on the receiving end of that fire than anything else, but any of God's creatures would have long since perished in the face of such incessant, hateful discharge of assault weaponry. Suddenly I had a gun myself. Something like an M-16, it felt almost weightless in my hands. The broken faces and tattooed necks of shaven female marines stared back at me with meaningless eyes, discerning if I was a foe. I don't think they were shooting each other, but I don't think they had any friends either. I figured as long as I held my weapon close as if I was ready to use it I was safe. Relatively. I had no idea what I was supposed to be shooting at. But I feared if I shot at nothing, they would know I wasn't one of them, and that certainly be bad. As if by some natural reaction to the rising tension, I remembered I could fly, or rather, slowly begin to rise from the back of the jeep like a hot air balloon, and head for the relative safety of one of the high tree tops. When I got a few feet off the ground I realized that my latest trick would surely blow my cover if spotted. One of the bald-headed, soul-less eyed lady marines glanced up at me with the deliberation of a hollywood zombie. Before she had a chance to raise her rifle I instinctively put one in her face from about 50 feet in the air, it felt less personal from that distance. I quickly glanced around my periphery to see if anyone had noticed the lone shot amongst the background cacophony that broke up the otherwise deafening silence of a vast unknown wilderness. I reached a perch in the trees where I thought I would be able to get a better view and discern what was happening. But I never managed to turn my glance from the body that barely moved as I dispatched the life it contained. The chaos continued.
Then suddenly, my safe perch in the tree became a safe perch up in a high window sill, in my 10th grade study hall room back at Gilman. The ceiling was much higher for some reason, and I was still in hiding, but the soldiers were now teachers and deans from my old school that I didn't recognize. I glanced to my left and up on the ledge with me was my dog Django. I shuffled to hide his presence behind a makeshift curtain that was clearly too small to conceal either of us. My sense of danger heightened as the activity in the room below increased. I sensed if they saw me, it would be curtains for both of us, why I don't know. But there was a writing. An assignment that I had turned in, perhaps that was what they were looking for. I knew it was brilliant. If only they would read it, they would spare me my torturous fate as they could now see my value. It worked. As if by magic they had read it, and they loved it. And I glided down from my perch like a bird of prey, not a single flap of my arms, just gliding. And there was peace.
But I woke up in a sweat, and terrified.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Complete Freedom, and the Internet. Too Much.
"Call it a crisis of leadership."
-Prop Joe
I don't think our collective people are grasping the gravity of the situation of our growing wildness and lack of respect and reverence for pretty much everything. A 22 year old girl, woman, whatever you want to call her made national headlines for her apparently successful attempts to auction off her very own virginity to the highest bidder. That high bid has supposedly hit a whopping 3.8 million USD. I don't know anything else about this girl, I'm assuming she has or at least had parents inasmuch as people don't come about through spontaneous creation like Athena springing forth fully formed from Zeus's forehead. Aside from the fact that any parental figure she ever had in her life clearly made a few wrong turns, I think it speaks volumes to the condition we presently find ourselves in as a people that this kind of thing happens, and then becomes news, making her famous. Famous for reducing what was at one point a valuable personal characteristic, perhaps the most valuable of one's youth, to little more than a cash transaction slightly more complicated than selecting a stale donut for purchase out of the big display case in your local Seven Eleven. Slide her some bills, and she will tender her previously unsavaged loins. I realize that such a transaction is hardly original, but to reduce it to the same medium that people use to buy songs on iTunes, order a few Netflix, or stream a little illicit pornography they'd be a little too embarrased to purchase if it involved looking a cashier in the face just makes it that much more caustic of a notion to me.
Another fascinating tidbit of our times was drawn to my attention a few weeks ago. A little google searching revealed information suggesting that this next horrific episode may have orignally been a hoax depending on the level of credibility you lend to wikipedia. However, even if it originally was a hoax, what I know of the modern human mind in this age of the internet leads me to believe that even if it wasn't real before, someone, probably many someones have defnitely imported this horror from the internet into the real world off of nothing more than the strength of it having been embodied in the depths of youtube. If one enters the search term "jenkem", or "butt hash" as it is popularly referred to, they will find what I believe is the absolute worst thing the world has ever known. The singular moment in which the concept first entered someones mind to fashion a drug out of human waste must in my estimation be the moment that God was waiting for before he finally washed his hands of the whole operation, and began to reach for the flusher. I just don't know how much more there is for us to do that hasn't been done, and that could possibly be more terrible than this, and any number of other horrific images and ideas that have passed through my frontal lobe for no other reason than the internet. Whatever they come up with next, I know for sure I don't want to see it. And I certainly don't want it to come off of the computer screen into the real world, my world, or anyone elses. I think we're gonna need a conscious effort to fight off the urge to take advantage of our bountiful, if not excessive freedom to do damn near whatever. Anything else, and we are dancing with some pretty ugly possibilities. I can't imagine what the world is going to look like in the age of my children should I be so fortunate and fertile. But I do know we're gonna need some help to make it that far. A whole lot of it. We need more parents, real parents. We need more guidance, we need more thought, sober thought and that's coming from a 26 year old who drinks scotch like your average grandfather of the Korean War/Vietnam age. We need teachers, educators, people need role models, even the adults. Something isn't working right it seems. I don't know what else to do except try to talk about it in a sensible fashion, because there's no reason that I should be able to buy a virgin online, and no one should have ever even thought about anything called butt hash, much less published a video about it or tried it. We need to start thinking about these things a little more. Maybe we need a little less freedom.
-Prop Joe
I don't think our collective people are grasping the gravity of the situation of our growing wildness and lack of respect and reverence for pretty much everything. A 22 year old girl, woman, whatever you want to call her made national headlines for her apparently successful attempts to auction off her very own virginity to the highest bidder. That high bid has supposedly hit a whopping 3.8 million USD. I don't know anything else about this girl, I'm assuming she has or at least had parents inasmuch as people don't come about through spontaneous creation like Athena springing forth fully formed from Zeus's forehead. Aside from the fact that any parental figure she ever had in her life clearly made a few wrong turns, I think it speaks volumes to the condition we presently find ourselves in as a people that this kind of thing happens, and then becomes news, making her famous. Famous for reducing what was at one point a valuable personal characteristic, perhaps the most valuable of one's youth, to little more than a cash transaction slightly more complicated than selecting a stale donut for purchase out of the big display case in your local Seven Eleven. Slide her some bills, and she will tender her previously unsavaged loins. I realize that such a transaction is hardly original, but to reduce it to the same medium that people use to buy songs on iTunes, order a few Netflix, or stream a little illicit pornography they'd be a little too embarrased to purchase if it involved looking a cashier in the face just makes it that much more caustic of a notion to me.
Another fascinating tidbit of our times was drawn to my attention a few weeks ago. A little google searching revealed information suggesting that this next horrific episode may have orignally been a hoax depending on the level of credibility you lend to wikipedia. However, even if it originally was a hoax, what I know of the modern human mind in this age of the internet leads me to believe that even if it wasn't real before, someone, probably many someones have defnitely imported this horror from the internet into the real world off of nothing more than the strength of it having been embodied in the depths of youtube. If one enters the search term "jenkem", or "butt hash" as it is popularly referred to, they will find what I believe is the absolute worst thing the world has ever known. The singular moment in which the concept first entered someones mind to fashion a drug out of human waste must in my estimation be the moment that God was waiting for before he finally washed his hands of the whole operation, and began to reach for the flusher. I just don't know how much more there is for us to do that hasn't been done, and that could possibly be more terrible than this, and any number of other horrific images and ideas that have passed through my frontal lobe for no other reason than the internet. Whatever they come up with next, I know for sure I don't want to see it. And I certainly don't want it to come off of the computer screen into the real world, my world, or anyone elses. I think we're gonna need a conscious effort to fight off the urge to take advantage of our bountiful, if not excessive freedom to do damn near whatever. Anything else, and we are dancing with some pretty ugly possibilities. I can't imagine what the world is going to look like in the age of my children should I be so fortunate and fertile. But I do know we're gonna need some help to make it that far. A whole lot of it. We need more parents, real parents. We need more guidance, we need more thought, sober thought and that's coming from a 26 year old who drinks scotch like your average grandfather of the Korean War/Vietnam age. We need teachers, educators, people need role models, even the adults. Something isn't working right it seems. I don't know what else to do except try to talk about it in a sensible fashion, because there's no reason that I should be able to buy a virgin online, and no one should have ever even thought about anything called butt hash, much less published a video about it or tried it. We need to start thinking about these things a little more. Maybe we need a little less freedom.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Uncredited Extra
If life was a movie, the overwhelming majority of people whom we encounter, and interact with would most appropriately be labeled uncredited extras in the filmmaker's vernacular. These nameless, hollow pedestrians fulfill a very important visual purpose in a film, however in real life the story is very much different. I'm finding that more and more people fall into this category these days. Normally, this would be ok, but now they're doing what every extra always tries to do: waving their arms, jumping up and down, staring at the camera, just whatever they can to draw attention to themselves in hopes that someone will spot the untapped talent contained therein and offer them a bigger role. People like this need to stick to the script, and keep their nonsense to themselves and just try not to be noticed, I think. Everybody is level jumping. I go through painstaking lengths to keep these people from bringing their shit into my world, but sometimes they just piggyback in one someone else's tab. This is wrong. Just because we have a mutual friend, does not entitle you to enter my life and strike a pose like we're best of friends by association. You are an extra for a reason, because you are not necessary. Not to me, and I don't want to be villified if you force me to note this to you. Just know your role, and stay it. There's nothing wrong with being an extra, life just like film would be barren without them, but stay in your place. And please, please don't speak.
Monday, December 01, 2008
esteem, the balance
"Because you have chosen not to respect yourself, you have made your happiness subject to the opinions others have of you..."
--Meditations
I have a friend who I think this statement applies particularly well to. It's understandable that what one lacks in esteem they vigorously approximate in tangible (especially visual) assets. As if to say, 'see, I am as good or better than you.' But to do this is to assume that the person to whom your attention is directed had a such an unfavorable view of your self to begin with. Sometimes this is true, but I would caution that often it isn't. And in this case you do little to change the outside perception of yourself other than to inflame your already apparent lack of self-definition. And in my opinion, this is a terrible way to live.
"Go on abusing yourself! Not long and you will lose the opportunity to show yourself any respect. We have only one life to live, and yours is almost over....Does the news bother you? Do you worry about things out of your control? Then take some time to concentrate your mind in the acquisition of some new and useful knowledge and stop it from flitting about. By the same token, guard against making the mistake of those who keep themselves so busy trying to gain control that they wear themselves out and lose their sense of direction, having no purpose to guide their actions or even their thoughts."
I am not so obtuse that I fail to see myself in this last assessment, but I have to try. One extreme is just as poor a choice as the other. I guess the struggle is always to find the balance.
--Meditations
I have a friend who I think this statement applies particularly well to. It's understandable that what one lacks in esteem they vigorously approximate in tangible (especially visual) assets. As if to say, 'see, I am as good or better than you.' But to do this is to assume that the person to whom your attention is directed had a such an unfavorable view of your self to begin with. Sometimes this is true, but I would caution that often it isn't. And in this case you do little to change the outside perception of yourself other than to inflame your already apparent lack of self-definition. And in my opinion, this is a terrible way to live.
"Go on abusing yourself! Not long and you will lose the opportunity to show yourself any respect. We have only one life to live, and yours is almost over....Does the news bother you? Do you worry about things out of your control? Then take some time to concentrate your mind in the acquisition of some new and useful knowledge and stop it from flitting about. By the same token, guard against making the mistake of those who keep themselves so busy trying to gain control that they wear themselves out and lose their sense of direction, having no purpose to guide their actions or even their thoughts."
I am not so obtuse that I fail to see myself in this last assessment, but I have to try. One extreme is just as poor a choice as the other. I guess the struggle is always to find the balance.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
a tree can only grow where its planted
I spend a lot of time criticizing a lot of things. But that's because many people, especially of my generation are getting more and more ridiculous. There's a young woman I know who was trying to convince me that I had no "swagger" and I should find a way to get some, perhaps by emulating her boyfriend. Now without delving into the fabric of this specimen's character, even if he did have this mystical characteristic that is so popularly referred to by just about everyone who you should never take advice from about anything, I surely would not want it. So I impressed this upon her, at which point she predictably got sensitive about me clowning her dude.
I can't fault her for being corny, and having corny taste in men, for she's from a county in the state of Maryland that is notorious amongst Baltimore natives for breeding what I would like to call Royal Coondom. Royal Coondom is the type of behavior exuded by many of the inhabitants of a princely province near the District of Columbia, that often includes excessive references, both verbal and behavioral, to much of the popular televised nonsense with which we are inundated, mostly at the expense of the perception of young black culture by mainstream America. For example, anyone who has ever done a "shoulder lean" is probably from this area in my experience. They also utter phrases which you might have been able to recognize from songs that you otherwise don't understand, by artists such as Lil' Wayne for example, and many of his followers. (Sidenote: how does any grown man with tattoos on his face have followers, I have no idea, but this is also terrible.) An example of such buffonery would be someone uttering forth, "It ain't trickin' if you got it." And rest assured that they don't have 'it' inasmuch as 'it' is money. If this statement were to more accurately reflect the state of things, they would say, "it ain't trickin' if you borrowed it and are past due on your visa bill but they haven't froze your spending limt yet.' I'm not saying this to criticize this individual's lifestyle, but only to interject some sobering reality into the mix here, because apparently it is lacking. But what I realized as I thought about exactly why this type of behavior is so prevalent and how things got this way is that, a tree can only grow where its planted. I'm not trying to sound overly poetic or be some fake philosopher, but I feel like that is an appropriate analogy. If you grow up around coondom and buffonery, then odds are that's what you're gonna display. Right or wrong, maybe it's not for me to say, but I offer my commentary anyway. Even with this sobering realization about my own criticisms on the behavior of people around me, I still maintain that the shit is ridiculous, and don't ever listen to anybody who tries to explain to you what swagger is.
I can't fault her for being corny, and having corny taste in men, for she's from a county in the state of Maryland that is notorious amongst Baltimore natives for breeding what I would like to call Royal Coondom. Royal Coondom is the type of behavior exuded by many of the inhabitants of a princely province near the District of Columbia, that often includes excessive references, both verbal and behavioral, to much of the popular televised nonsense with which we are inundated, mostly at the expense of the perception of young black culture by mainstream America. For example, anyone who has ever done a "shoulder lean" is probably from this area in my experience. They also utter phrases which you might have been able to recognize from songs that you otherwise don't understand, by artists such as Lil' Wayne for example, and many of his followers. (Sidenote: how does any grown man with tattoos on his face have followers, I have no idea, but this is also terrible.) An example of such buffonery would be someone uttering forth, "It ain't trickin' if you got it." And rest assured that they don't have 'it' inasmuch as 'it' is money. If this statement were to more accurately reflect the state of things, they would say, "it ain't trickin' if you borrowed it and are past due on your visa bill but they haven't froze your spending limt yet.' I'm not saying this to criticize this individual's lifestyle, but only to interject some sobering reality into the mix here, because apparently it is lacking. But what I realized as I thought about exactly why this type of behavior is so prevalent and how things got this way is that, a tree can only grow where its planted. I'm not trying to sound overly poetic or be some fake philosopher, but I feel like that is an appropriate analogy. If you grow up around coondom and buffonery, then odds are that's what you're gonna display. Right or wrong, maybe it's not for me to say, but I offer my commentary anyway. Even with this sobering realization about my own criticisms on the behavior of people around me, I still maintain that the shit is ridiculous, and don't ever listen to anybody who tries to explain to you what swagger is.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
...that's got his own
Yes, the strong gets more
While the weak ones fade
Empty pockets don't ever make the grade
Mama may have, papa may have
But God bless the child thats got his own
Thats got his own
- Billie Holiday
I think a lot of people spend a good portion of their lives learning this lesson: There is a lot of horse-shit in life, you just have to learn to accept that much of it has your name on it, and in the meantime find and embrace the things in life that make you happy so that the rest of this nonsense doesn't seem so bad.
I spent my last summer in Baltimore, something that I really was not looking forward to doing. But in hindsight, I'm glad I did. It taught me a lot, being home around family and good friends, something that I'm deprived of when I'm up at school doing this horse-shit work for which I still have no job to speak of. Many of my good friends have moved out of Baltimore, but a few remain. And with them this past summer, we did what we enjoy. Eating good food, drinking good drinks, and chilling the f*ck out, because its stressful out here during regular business hours. We found a good place to go where we were all comfortable, and could do the things we wanted to do, then we kept going back. Good food, some scotch, a few beers, some worthwhile conversation completely devoid of references to anything you're gonna see on BET, MTV, or reality shows. It's like coming up for air, and you feel much better after you shake all of that horse-shit off that you accumulated during the week.
It is very important to find things that make you happy, and use them to keep yourself grounded when things get tough. This is not to say that everyone should just subscribe to hedonism and only do things that feel good to them, this is just as bad as sticking to the horse-shit all week as far as I can see. But you have to have some things that you can always go back to.
That Billie Holiday song above, God Bless The Child, this song makes me happy. I don't know why exactly, maybe it reminds me of how my grandmother used to sing Billie Holiday songs to me when I was little. I'm sure that's probably the main reason I started listening to the old jazz and soul music to begin with. But as long as I've known this song, I never gave anything more than superficial thought to what it meant. That's got his own what? I wondered.
I've read that this line came from an argument she had with her mother about money. This makes sense, but I always felt the song deserved a more substantive meaning than that. Maybe it means mother and father may each have their own way of being, their own notions of life, the best of which they seek to impart to their children. But God bless the child that has the understanding to learn from his parents' wisdom, but preserves his own sensibilities in order that he live life through his own eyes. Could that be it, could it be about the understanding and respect for where you come from, but without being blind to what is yet to come? Maybe.
Them thats got shall get
Them thats not shall lose
So the Bible said and it still is news
Mama may have, papa may have
Maybe it's about faith. God bless the child that has faith that nothing in life is permanent, least of all the challenges we face. They always persist, but they are ever-changing. So you have to believe that something bigger than yourself is going on so you can make sense out of all the ups and downs. I would like that. But its not that simple either.
Money, you've got lots of friends
Crowding round the door
When you're gone, spending ends
They don't come no more
Rich relations give
Crust of bread and such
You can help yourself
But don't take too much
The truth is, the song is about money, but also the things it does, and the dangers it poses. Maybe that false sense of security, or of self, that a good run can give a person. But you always have to remember what it is, and where you come from. We're all born without it, even if we come from a family of privilege. But as we grow, so to does it grow a part of us. Billie Holiday grew up without much of it, which no doubt gave her a tremendous respect for what it really means. Going from little of it, to celebrity, must be quite a life experience. When it came, they crowded around to be in its company. When it was gone, so were they. So was that sense it gave us. Just a mirage, temporary like Achilles. We're all cautioned against it, but few listen. Those of us that can are always tempted to partake of our own good fortune, and rightly so. But we always have to temper our enthusiasm with the idea of what it all really means. You can help yourself, but don't take too much. Maybe that means that wise as you may be, no one is immune. The more you get, the further you remove yourself from where we all come from. We just have to remember that you can't buy everything, you can't buy anything that really has its own meaning. Maybe that's what it's all about, the meaning of it all. Meaning, we all need it, we all want it, but you can't really buy it. I guess you just have to have your own. Maybe we're born with it, and the task is simply to hang on for dear life. I can understand that. That makes sense to me. That makes me happy. God Bless the Child.
While the weak ones fade
Empty pockets don't ever make the grade
Mama may have, papa may have
But God bless the child thats got his own
Thats got his own
- Billie Holiday
I think a lot of people spend a good portion of their lives learning this lesson: There is a lot of horse-shit in life, you just have to learn to accept that much of it has your name on it, and in the meantime find and embrace the things in life that make you happy so that the rest of this nonsense doesn't seem so bad.
I spent my last summer in Baltimore, something that I really was not looking forward to doing. But in hindsight, I'm glad I did. It taught me a lot, being home around family and good friends, something that I'm deprived of when I'm up at school doing this horse-shit work for which I still have no job to speak of. Many of my good friends have moved out of Baltimore, but a few remain. And with them this past summer, we did what we enjoy. Eating good food, drinking good drinks, and chilling the f*ck out, because its stressful out here during regular business hours. We found a good place to go where we were all comfortable, and could do the things we wanted to do, then we kept going back. Good food, some scotch, a few beers, some worthwhile conversation completely devoid of references to anything you're gonna see on BET, MTV, or reality shows. It's like coming up for air, and you feel much better after you shake all of that horse-shit off that you accumulated during the week.
It is very important to find things that make you happy, and use them to keep yourself grounded when things get tough. This is not to say that everyone should just subscribe to hedonism and only do things that feel good to them, this is just as bad as sticking to the horse-shit all week as far as I can see. But you have to have some things that you can always go back to.
That Billie Holiday song above, God Bless The Child, this song makes me happy. I don't know why exactly, maybe it reminds me of how my grandmother used to sing Billie Holiday songs to me when I was little. I'm sure that's probably the main reason I started listening to the old jazz and soul music to begin with. But as long as I've known this song, I never gave anything more than superficial thought to what it meant. That's got his own what? I wondered.
I've read that this line came from an argument she had with her mother about money. This makes sense, but I always felt the song deserved a more substantive meaning than that. Maybe it means mother and father may each have their own way of being, their own notions of life, the best of which they seek to impart to their children. But God bless the child that has the understanding to learn from his parents' wisdom, but preserves his own sensibilities in order that he live life through his own eyes. Could that be it, could it be about the understanding and respect for where you come from, but without being blind to what is yet to come? Maybe.
Them thats got shall get
Them thats not shall lose
So the Bible said and it still is news
Mama may have, papa may have
Maybe it's about faith. God bless the child that has faith that nothing in life is permanent, least of all the challenges we face. They always persist, but they are ever-changing. So you have to believe that something bigger than yourself is going on so you can make sense out of all the ups and downs. I would like that. But its not that simple either.
Money, you've got lots of friends
Crowding round the door
When you're gone, spending ends
They don't come no more
Rich relations give
Crust of bread and such
You can help yourself
But don't take too much
The truth is, the song is about money, but also the things it does, and the dangers it poses. Maybe that false sense of security, or of self, that a good run can give a person. But you always have to remember what it is, and where you come from. We're all born without it, even if we come from a family of privilege. But as we grow, so to does it grow a part of us. Billie Holiday grew up without much of it, which no doubt gave her a tremendous respect for what it really means. Going from little of it, to celebrity, must be quite a life experience. When it came, they crowded around to be in its company. When it was gone, so were they. So was that sense it gave us. Just a mirage, temporary like Achilles. We're all cautioned against it, but few listen. Those of us that can are always tempted to partake of our own good fortune, and rightly so. But we always have to temper our enthusiasm with the idea of what it all really means. You can help yourself, but don't take too much. Maybe that means that wise as you may be, no one is immune. The more you get, the further you remove yourself from where we all come from. We just have to remember that you can't buy everything, you can't buy anything that really has its own meaning. Maybe that's what it's all about, the meaning of it all. Meaning, we all need it, we all want it, but you can't really buy it. I guess you just have to have your own. Maybe we're born with it, and the task is simply to hang on for dear life. I can understand that. That makes sense to me. That makes me happy. God Bless the Child.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
it might just be time to go, (or) No Country for Young Black Men
Just looking around, things are really crazy out here, and it seems like now is as good a time as any to start thinking about somewhere else to set up shop. Things in this country have been devolving for at least the better part of this decade, and I don't know how bright it is to hang around waiting for the knock-out punch.
I'm looking for ideas of a place to go where things are a little more normal and sensible. I want to go back to Japan, it's so clean over there and people are so polite, it's quite a relief. I could learn to speak Japanese, but the broader problem is this: I'm still black, and as such it's gonna be damn near impossible for me to even appear to fit in most places in the world. Some may proclaim that I can always go back to Africa, but being that I've never been, and even if I were to go I have no home country in Africa, not to mention all of the other reasons that a person may choose not to move to Africa in general, that idea can be cast aside as well. So where does that leave us?
I'm looking for ideas of a place to go where things are a little more normal and sensible. I want to go back to Japan, it's so clean over there and people are so polite, it's quite a relief. I could learn to speak Japanese, but the broader problem is this: I'm still black, and as such it's gonna be damn near impossible for me to even appear to fit in most places in the world. Some may proclaim that I can always go back to Africa, but being that I've never been, and even if I were to go I have no home country in Africa, not to mention all of the other reasons that a person may choose not to move to Africa in general, that idea can be cast aside as well. So where does that leave us?
Sunday, October 19, 2008
American Censorship OR "Just the God"
I was in the car the other day with the radio on when this song came on. I have no idea what the song is called or who made it, but from what I can tell from the little bit I listened to, the singer seems to be very upset at the actions that were taking place in a room nearby with the door open.
"Haven't you people ever heard of closing the --- damn door" the radio asked me. I wonder when it started that they censor the 'god' in the word "goddamn". This isn't meant to be a religious argument, I'm far from the image of piety, but I think it's worth thinking about. Censorship has come a long way in just the time that I can remember. I remember when I was younger you never even heard the word damn on the radio. I even remember there being some kind of controversy when the Fox network let Al Bundy say "bitch" on prime-time TV. Now bitch is everywhere, damn, ass, all of that shit. Profane terms for anatomy don't even bat an eye anymore, "so and so is a dick", "you're such a pussy". The word "tits" is almost ubiquitous on TV these days. Maybe the odd old-timer will shift in their seat a little if they hear the word "pussy", but that's about it. And as the comedian Joe Rogan pointed out, you can still stiffen a few faces by dropping a "cunt" here and there, but even that one has lost a lot of steam since the 80s. The point is it seems like it doesn't take long anymore for people to acclimate to the profane word of the day to the point where sooner or later no one cares, but some of it just doesn't make sense to me.
I remember when Eminem's first song came out when I was in high school. At one point he uses the word "asshole" in the real song, but that one appears to be just barely enough to merit censoring. This was around the time where instead of just blanking the word out, artists were preemptively releasing cleaner, radio friendly versions of their songs. But Eminem, being the sick fuck that he is, replaced "asshole" with "ball sack", and the censor people apparently found this acceptable. And the first time I heard it on the radio I was amazed. Not that I really care either way, but I find ball sack to be a bit more distasteful than asshole. Asshole almost doesn't even mean anything anymore, you hear that shit all the time, but ball-sack?
I guess the radio stations are just trying to keep out of trouble with the censor's and all that, who's job it is to basically respond to the sensibilities of the times and make sure broadcasts stay inside the lines during daylight hours. But is this really the state of things? Do the censors think to themselves, 'People may take offense to our use of the word "goddamn", so how about we take out the "god". Not the damn, not even the whole fucking word. Just the God. I'm just confused, that's all.
"Haven't you people ever heard of closing the --- damn door" the radio asked me. I wonder when it started that they censor the 'god' in the word "goddamn". This isn't meant to be a religious argument, I'm far from the image of piety, but I think it's worth thinking about. Censorship has come a long way in just the time that I can remember. I remember when I was younger you never even heard the word damn on the radio. I even remember there being some kind of controversy when the Fox network let Al Bundy say "bitch" on prime-time TV. Now bitch is everywhere, damn, ass, all of that shit. Profane terms for anatomy don't even bat an eye anymore, "so and so is a dick", "you're such a pussy". The word "tits" is almost ubiquitous on TV these days. Maybe the odd old-timer will shift in their seat a little if they hear the word "pussy", but that's about it. And as the comedian Joe Rogan pointed out, you can still stiffen a few faces by dropping a "cunt" here and there, but even that one has lost a lot of steam since the 80s. The point is it seems like it doesn't take long anymore for people to acclimate to the profane word of the day to the point where sooner or later no one cares, but some of it just doesn't make sense to me.
I remember when Eminem's first song came out when I was in high school. At one point he uses the word "asshole" in the real song, but that one appears to be just barely enough to merit censoring. This was around the time where instead of just blanking the word out, artists were preemptively releasing cleaner, radio friendly versions of their songs. But Eminem, being the sick fuck that he is, replaced "asshole" with "ball sack", and the censor people apparently found this acceptable. And the first time I heard it on the radio I was amazed. Not that I really care either way, but I find ball sack to be a bit more distasteful than asshole. Asshole almost doesn't even mean anything anymore, you hear that shit all the time, but ball-sack?
I guess the radio stations are just trying to keep out of trouble with the censor's and all that, who's job it is to basically respond to the sensibilities of the times and make sure broadcasts stay inside the lines during daylight hours. But is this really the state of things? Do the censors think to themselves, 'People may take offense to our use of the word "goddamn", so how about we take out the "god". Not the damn, not even the whole fucking word. Just the God. I'm just confused, that's all.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
"...but I'm trying, Ringo."
"It's not that I'm afraid of it, I always knew you had to be willing to die to even do this job. But, I don't want to push my chips forward, and then go out and meet something I don't understand. A man would have to put his soul at hazard. He'd have to say ok...I'll be part of this world."
--No Country for Old Men
A lot of the things I say in this forum overlap, perhaps even to the point of being repetitive. But that's because I decided to keep this record of my thoughts more out of selfishness than anything else. I wanted to be able to look back on it all at some unidentified point in the future. Call it a mental timeline, maybe even a growth chart if I'm lucky.
When all is said and done, I want basically what everyone else does. I want to live a life that's worth bringing others into. But if you're gonna do something like that, you have to do it right.
That means you have to choose very wisely who you bring in. Especially inasmuch as having a family is concerned. I talk a lot about women because I need one for this plan to work. But present times find a lot of substance left to desire. Potential, frozen and wasted. I'm trying not to be such myself, because that's not what I want for my family.
A while back a friend of mine asked me how it is that I, being one of the lazier people I know, find the motivation to go to the gym with any sort of regularity. I told him, that aside from it being good for the health and all of that, I find motivation in that if and when I ever find a woman to settle down with, I'm surely going to encourage that she keep herself in respectable physical condition, so the very least I can do is satisfy my own standards, or at least attempt to so not to be a total hypocrite. The books I read, some of the movies and television I watch, voluntarily subjecting myself to law school, this was not done for my health. Much of that is done with an eye towards preparedness. I read books that I feel like I can learn something from, not just for myself, but because if I have it my way, I will have a family one day, and kids ask a lot of questions. I won't be able to respond to all of them, but I at least have to be able to point them to the answer.
I jam on girls cause I'm sick of this shit. It's bedlam out there. People are walking around talking crazy and acting reckless, thinking of nothing that can't be used for pleasure, hedonism. Acting as if life is a dress rehearsal to a play, and the curtains haven't drawn yet, so in the meantime take whatever role you like. This is wrong. A few weeks ago I met this girl through a friend, also a law student. She spoke of the dearth of suitable young men available these days. I told her that I can imagine her plight. She went on to detail more what she meant by suitable. "Yea, I mean he has to be smart, and have himself together and have an education and a career, and all of that." She paused for a brief return to her Newport 100 cigarette, "...but if the dick ain't all there, neither am I." I nodded and excused myself to the kitchen where I had left a bottle of scotch that suddenly didn't look like it could help me anymore. I worry that I just don't understand, that time waits for no man, and it's snaking, and winding past me. I fear we're putting our souls at hazard.
I do, say, and most certainly think quite a bit about what many people may term 'weird shit'. But I do it all for a reason, or most of it anyway. I try to keep my eyes forward so I can see what's coming. Sometimes my eyes reach far enough to see problems coming, giving me time to swerve out of the way. But some problems are big, bigger than the whole horizon, and you just know that sooner than you think it's gonna be all you can see. That's when the ol' thinker starts kicking in, trying to come up with ways around it, or through it, or if you can't do that, ways to mitigate the damage. The point is, eventually life is gonna become real. A lot more real than it is now, and my actions, the things I do and say and think will stop affecting only me. They will affect those that depend on me. So I simply have to be ready.
So in a nutshell, that's what my aim is, in most of the things I do. I like to think other people are on the same page. But from where I'm standing it's mighty hard to see.
--No Country for Old Men
A lot of the things I say in this forum overlap, perhaps even to the point of being repetitive. But that's because I decided to keep this record of my thoughts more out of selfishness than anything else. I wanted to be able to look back on it all at some unidentified point in the future. Call it a mental timeline, maybe even a growth chart if I'm lucky.
When all is said and done, I want basically what everyone else does. I want to live a life that's worth bringing others into. But if you're gonna do something like that, you have to do it right.
That means you have to choose very wisely who you bring in. Especially inasmuch as having a family is concerned. I talk a lot about women because I need one for this plan to work. But present times find a lot of substance left to desire. Potential, frozen and wasted. I'm trying not to be such myself, because that's not what I want for my family.
A while back a friend of mine asked me how it is that I, being one of the lazier people I know, find the motivation to go to the gym with any sort of regularity. I told him, that aside from it being good for the health and all of that, I find motivation in that if and when I ever find a woman to settle down with, I'm surely going to encourage that she keep herself in respectable physical condition, so the very least I can do is satisfy my own standards, or at least attempt to so not to be a total hypocrite. The books I read, some of the movies and television I watch, voluntarily subjecting myself to law school, this was not done for my health. Much of that is done with an eye towards preparedness. I read books that I feel like I can learn something from, not just for myself, but because if I have it my way, I will have a family one day, and kids ask a lot of questions. I won't be able to respond to all of them, but I at least have to be able to point them to the answer.
I jam on girls cause I'm sick of this shit. It's bedlam out there. People are walking around talking crazy and acting reckless, thinking of nothing that can't be used for pleasure, hedonism. Acting as if life is a dress rehearsal to a play, and the curtains haven't drawn yet, so in the meantime take whatever role you like. This is wrong. A few weeks ago I met this girl through a friend, also a law student. She spoke of the dearth of suitable young men available these days. I told her that I can imagine her plight. She went on to detail more what she meant by suitable. "Yea, I mean he has to be smart, and have himself together and have an education and a career, and all of that." She paused for a brief return to her Newport 100 cigarette, "...but if the dick ain't all there, neither am I." I nodded and excused myself to the kitchen where I had left a bottle of scotch that suddenly didn't look like it could help me anymore. I worry that I just don't understand, that time waits for no man, and it's snaking, and winding past me. I fear we're putting our souls at hazard.
I do, say, and most certainly think quite a bit about what many people may term 'weird shit'. But I do it all for a reason, or most of it anyway. I try to keep my eyes forward so I can see what's coming. Sometimes my eyes reach far enough to see problems coming, giving me time to swerve out of the way. But some problems are big, bigger than the whole horizon, and you just know that sooner than you think it's gonna be all you can see. That's when the ol' thinker starts kicking in, trying to come up with ways around it, or through it, or if you can't do that, ways to mitigate the damage. The point is, eventually life is gonna become real. A lot more real than it is now, and my actions, the things I do and say and think will stop affecting only me. They will affect those that depend on me. So I simply have to be ready.
So in a nutshell, that's what my aim is, in most of the things I do. I like to think other people are on the same page. But from where I'm standing it's mighty hard to see.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
A Sequel: Things Men Shouldn't Be Allowed To Do. OR "Girls Best Friend"
"I'm sorry ma'am, you're right, you're not a whore. But you're certainly wearing a whore's uniform."
-- Dave Chappelle
If you look it up, you will probably find that in American culture, the most consistent demographic reservoir for decorative earring has generally been women. There was a phenomenon during the sixties where it gained popularity amongst the sailor, hipster, and homosexual scenes respectively. But it has generally always been more popular among women to wear decorative piercings in the ear.
I think in the culture of the modern American male, it really started to take off in popularity mostly as a way to draw attention to oneself. From there, it slowly evolved from a mere attempt at distinction, into useful surface area for displaying one's wealth of disposable income. This is all fine, but within the last decade or two I think the general acceptance of earrings and jewelry on men collided and multiplied with what has been noted by some scholars as the feminization of American culture. This is where I begin to see a problem.
Men are becoming more and more like women, and I personally think this is not really a good thing. You don't have to look far today to find an example of a man exhibiting behavior that was historically thought of to be effeminate. I'm not meaning to talk about sexuality and all of that, just human behavior, specifically as it pertains to certain portions of the modern male population. Turn on the TV during any celebrity event, or watch a music video channel for long enough and you will surely see a man somewhere, donning more decorative jewels than Liberace himself ever embraced.
Necklaces, (or chains as they call them so they don't feel gay), earrings, bracelets, rings on every finger. Diamonds, diamonds, everywhere. Sure they're nice, they're shiny, they're valuable, but what does the diamond industry call them? The people who make their living mining, cutting, polishing, fixing and selling diamonds, how did they first choose to market them? "A girl's best friend." Not a guy's best friend. And the reason for that is, they were really meant for women. Women love diamonds, it's a fact. Now, men love diamonds too. But that's fine, I'm not hating, go right ahead if you're a man that just happens to be into jewels. But don't stop there, why not grab yourself a nice fur while you're at it. Mink, coon, chinchilla, pick one. Any fur coat you like fellas, have one, you deserve it, you've earned the money, you might as well blow it to show it.
In my 25 years of life, I can remember a time when it was almost unheard of for a man to wear a fur coat. Now, no one really bats an eye. Why? Well obviously something happened, but what was it?
I've now had several conversations with girls where I have been told that one thing they're noticing more and more is that as they put it, "guys are getting way too emotional and sensitive." There it is again, more words being used to describe guys that even now if heard on their own almost always invoke an image of the opposite sex. Yet, it's being applied to the male of the species. What's going on?
As I generally don't really notice details about men's faces it took another young lady to point out to me that a young gentleman we both know has taken to arching his eyebrows. Wow, I thought. I would have never noticed that. Nor would I have ever thought that a man would do such a thing, especially a man who is ostensibly into women. In fact I don't think I'd ever used the words 'arch' and 'eyebrows' in the same sentence before that point.
Two of my female law school classmates have independently made me aware of an even more fascinating trend. Apparently it is becoming commonplace for guys to say to them, (upon learning of their status as future attorneys which is often intimately tied to the notion of making lots of money however wrong it may be), "Oh you're in law school? I better hurry up and get you pregnant." I still don't want to believe it, but I can see that happening, and this is terrible. This is terrible because it use to be strictly the province of women to use sex/creating children as a means of securing a man's financial resources for her kids'/her own benefit. And this is much easier for them to do as they are the ones who actually make the kids. Now, apparently the shoe has switched feet.
My point is this, men are men, and women are women. Everyone is born with one role or the other. If they start blending into one, where does that leave us? Wherever that is, the only thing I know for sure is that I need to be elsewhere.
Gentleman, fellas, boys, whatever, sooner or later you gotta man up.
-- Dave Chappelle
If you look it up, you will probably find that in American culture, the most consistent demographic reservoir for decorative earring has generally been women. There was a phenomenon during the sixties where it gained popularity amongst the sailor, hipster, and homosexual scenes respectively. But it has generally always been more popular among women to wear decorative piercings in the ear.
I think in the culture of the modern American male, it really started to take off in popularity mostly as a way to draw attention to oneself. From there, it slowly evolved from a mere attempt at distinction, into useful surface area for displaying one's wealth of disposable income. This is all fine, but within the last decade or two I think the general acceptance of earrings and jewelry on men collided and multiplied with what has been noted by some scholars as the feminization of American culture. This is where I begin to see a problem.
Men are becoming more and more like women, and I personally think this is not really a good thing. You don't have to look far today to find an example of a man exhibiting behavior that was historically thought of to be effeminate. I'm not meaning to talk about sexuality and all of that, just human behavior, specifically as it pertains to certain portions of the modern male population. Turn on the TV during any celebrity event, or watch a music video channel for long enough and you will surely see a man somewhere, donning more decorative jewels than Liberace himself ever embraced.
Necklaces, (or chains as they call them so they don't feel gay), earrings, bracelets, rings on every finger. Diamonds, diamonds, everywhere. Sure they're nice, they're shiny, they're valuable, but what does the diamond industry call them? The people who make their living mining, cutting, polishing, fixing and selling diamonds, how did they first choose to market them? "A girl's best friend." Not a guy's best friend. And the reason for that is, they were really meant for women. Women love diamonds, it's a fact. Now, men love diamonds too. But that's fine, I'm not hating, go right ahead if you're a man that just happens to be into jewels. But don't stop there, why not grab yourself a nice fur while you're at it. Mink, coon, chinchilla, pick one. Any fur coat you like fellas, have one, you deserve it, you've earned the money, you might as well blow it to show it.
In my 25 years of life, I can remember a time when it was almost unheard of for a man to wear a fur coat. Now, no one really bats an eye. Why? Well obviously something happened, but what was it?
I've now had several conversations with girls where I have been told that one thing they're noticing more and more is that as they put it, "guys are getting way too emotional and sensitive." There it is again, more words being used to describe guys that even now if heard on their own almost always invoke an image of the opposite sex. Yet, it's being applied to the male of the species. What's going on?
As I generally don't really notice details about men's faces it took another young lady to point out to me that a young gentleman we both know has taken to arching his eyebrows. Wow, I thought. I would have never noticed that. Nor would I have ever thought that a man would do such a thing, especially a man who is ostensibly into women. In fact I don't think I'd ever used the words 'arch' and 'eyebrows' in the same sentence before that point.
Two of my female law school classmates have independently made me aware of an even more fascinating trend. Apparently it is becoming commonplace for guys to say to them, (upon learning of their status as future attorneys which is often intimately tied to the notion of making lots of money however wrong it may be), "Oh you're in law school? I better hurry up and get you pregnant." I still don't want to believe it, but I can see that happening, and this is terrible. This is terrible because it use to be strictly the province of women to use sex/creating children as a means of securing a man's financial resources for her kids'/her own benefit. And this is much easier for them to do as they are the ones who actually make the kids. Now, apparently the shoe has switched feet.
My point is this, men are men, and women are women. Everyone is born with one role or the other. If they start blending into one, where does that leave us? Wherever that is, the only thing I know for sure is that I need to be elsewhere.
Gentleman, fellas, boys, whatever, sooner or later you gotta man up.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Nothing Makes Sense Anymore: We All Need Help
"I'm done with Baltimore."
-- Witness
Everyday during school I flip through my usual website roster just to keep abreast of what's going on in the world. I check espn.com to see what's going on in the football and college basketball, the Orioles while they're still above 500 which I'm surprised they are so late into April, and whatever else ESPN tells me I should be paying attention to. I check cnn.com to see if anything terrible has happened while I was sleeping, then I check the BBC Americas page to get a more realistic view of things. Then, I take a deep breath, try to mentally prepare myself and hope for the best as I check the website that is literally closest to home, baltimoresun.com.
My God, what is the world coming to. It's getting so I can't even look at the Baltimore news anymore without wanting to just pack up all my shit and move as far away as I can. It's not just Baltimore in all fairness, just check the US news section on CNN if you don't believe me, but damned if Baltimore isn't making it that much worse. For the second consecutive day I was hit first thing in the morning with a story about a teenager who should have been in school getting caught on the wrong end of a firearm. Yesterday morning it was a 14 year old girl getting shot in a rowhouse in east Baltimore, allegedly by an 18 year old suspect.
"The victim was identified as Shawndreta Griffin of the 1900 block of McCulloh St., a seventh-grader at Booker T. Washington Middle School. The shooting occurred after 9 a.m. in the 1900 block of N. Patterson Park Ave., where several dilapidated houses have been demolished.
Neighbors and passers-by gathered behind yellow crime-scene tape as about 25 police cadets searched vacant lots and alleys for the weapon police believe was used in the shooting.
Malachi Williams Jr., who was doing construction work in a car wash nearby, said he had seen six or seven children being led by police officers out of the rowhouse and into vehicles."
I remember when I was little watching my grandmother as she watched the news and shake her head in sorrowful disbelief. I wondered to myself, how can she even bring herself to care? She doesn't know these people, and in my childlike mind they seemed so far removed from my own life as to not even be a part of reality. As I have grown older, I think her view is beginning to come into focus for me. This shit is terrible. Even in a terrible story like this is more terrible shit lying between the lines. What the fuck is a seventh grader doing at home at 9 in the morning on a Monday? And her 18 year old shooter, what? Who gets into violent disputes before they're even done serving breakfast at McDonald's?
Today I checked hoping to maybe see something hopeful on the front page, nope, wrong.
Boy, 15, Shot in Face in West Baltimore. Police swarm neighborhood; Officer was shot in same area yesterday.
"A 15-year-old boy was shot in the face about 9:30 a.m. today in West Baltimore, and three schools in the area were placed on lockdown, according to city police and city school officials. The victim is likely to recover, a police spokeswoman said."
9:30 am, really? Not that anytime is a good time to get shot in the face, but for real. What is possibly going on that you've already resorted gun violence at 9:30 am? There's no logical justification for it. Life is just getting beyond reason, and that's how you know something really, really radical is going to happen in the near future that's going to change everything, because it pretty much has to.
A long time ago I used to be anti-guns, anti-death penalty, all of that shit, and I had my justification. The death penalty just seems inherently hypocritical to me, and I can't resolve that philosphical gap in my own mind to this day, but somewhere along the line philosophy gets driven off the road by practicality. Some people are just too much to be allowed to run loose in the world, even within the confines of the prison system. And here are my two cents on an issue I believe the Supreme Court will soon be hearing this term; the death penalty should not be reserved for those convicted of homicide. These people who like molesting kids are far more deserving of it in my opinion but that's a whole other topic.
Everybody is simply going apeshit. I don't know if it's all the greasy food and preservatives, if it's the repetitive skull numbing music, if it's Dr. Phil's fault or what, but something is going wrong, big time, and we all just seem to be far too accepting of it.
I used to be opposed to owning guns but I'm certainly not anymore, because they have guns, and they are crazy. And every time I leave my bedroom, I'm entering their domain where apparently anything can happen first thing in the morning. If this is the situation then just like Omar said, "The game is out there, and it's play or get played." But what kind of fucked up shit is this to have to deal with. A world where everybody has guns? Guns that have triggers, and all it takes is an index finger to pull it, and when you pull it a bullet flies out. A bullet is a piece of metal, rounded and shaped to fly through the air, spiraling for accuracy, and sometimes hollowed out so that when they reach your target, they collapse broadening and roughening their piercing end so that they won't exit the target, but will stay inside piercing and tearing tissue and vital organs, which will render your target seriously incapacitated, if not mortally wounded. And why you might ask is this the case? Who knows, but apparently you can piss people off enough before the suns even all the way out of bed for them to point one of these things at you and let fly.
This is craziness. Bill of rights enthusiasts will tell you that it's their right to bear arms and that they understand how to use them and would only do so if they felt threatened. I personally take the Seinfeld view on this, "People with guns don't understand. That's why they get guns, too many misunderstandings." Yet, while I hold this belief, I certainly don't want to be the one caught naked when everybody outside has all their clothes on, and an angry look on their face. What's a man to do? Stop reading the news maybe. At least then you won't see it coming.
I think the biggest mistake we all make is seeing this stuff happen, and watching the news like it's a documentary on Aids in Africa, like it will never affect us. The other day I was sitting outside of my house in Carlisle, PA, miles away from anything of significance to people who have grown up in a real city. I was double parked for convenience, but the street was wide enough for two cars to fit through even with cars parked along both curbs. Within 2 minutes, two people drove by honking their horns, one of them slowed down as they drove by to peer into the car and see who was there, as if to say "What is your problem, city boy?" The second guy even pulled over on the other side of the street, got out of his car leered over to try and scare us off I suppose. I remember thinking; these poor idiots have no idea what's going on in the world. I felt this way because I know for a fact, that just less than an hour and change south of Carlisle, there is a city where one can find themself rendered lifeless for committing such an act. Stopping and looking into cars at people you don't know is an action that can cost you your life in many parts of this fascinating country, but these people only see and hear about that on the news if at all. The news is no barrier to reality, I just hope these people don't carry their antiquated country habits too far into modern territory. God knows what will happen when these two borders eventually meet.
-- Witness
Everyday during school I flip through my usual website roster just to keep abreast of what's going on in the world. I check espn.com to see what's going on in the football and college basketball, the Orioles while they're still above 500 which I'm surprised they are so late into April, and whatever else ESPN tells me I should be paying attention to. I check cnn.com to see if anything terrible has happened while I was sleeping, then I check the BBC Americas page to get a more realistic view of things. Then, I take a deep breath, try to mentally prepare myself and hope for the best as I check the website that is literally closest to home, baltimoresun.com.
My God, what is the world coming to. It's getting so I can't even look at the Baltimore news anymore without wanting to just pack up all my shit and move as far away as I can. It's not just Baltimore in all fairness, just check the US news section on CNN if you don't believe me, but damned if Baltimore isn't making it that much worse. For the second consecutive day I was hit first thing in the morning with a story about a teenager who should have been in school getting caught on the wrong end of a firearm. Yesterday morning it was a 14 year old girl getting shot in a rowhouse in east Baltimore, allegedly by an 18 year old suspect.
"The victim was identified as Shawndreta Griffin of the 1900 block of McCulloh St., a seventh-grader at Booker T. Washington Middle School. The shooting occurred after 9 a.m. in the 1900 block of N. Patterson Park Ave., where several dilapidated houses have been demolished.
Neighbors and passers-by gathered behind yellow crime-scene tape as about 25 police cadets searched vacant lots and alleys for the weapon police believe was used in the shooting.
Malachi Williams Jr., who was doing construction work in a car wash nearby, said he had seen six or seven children being led by police officers out of the rowhouse and into vehicles."
I remember when I was little watching my grandmother as she watched the news and shake her head in sorrowful disbelief. I wondered to myself, how can she even bring herself to care? She doesn't know these people, and in my childlike mind they seemed so far removed from my own life as to not even be a part of reality. As I have grown older, I think her view is beginning to come into focus for me. This shit is terrible. Even in a terrible story like this is more terrible shit lying between the lines. What the fuck is a seventh grader doing at home at 9 in the morning on a Monday? And her 18 year old shooter, what? Who gets into violent disputes before they're even done serving breakfast at McDonald's?
Today I checked hoping to maybe see something hopeful on the front page, nope, wrong.
Boy, 15, Shot in Face in West Baltimore. Police swarm neighborhood; Officer was shot in same area yesterday.
"A 15-year-old boy was shot in the face about 9:30 a.m. today in West Baltimore, and three schools in the area were placed on lockdown, according to city police and city school officials. The victim is likely to recover, a police spokeswoman said."
9:30 am, really? Not that anytime is a good time to get shot in the face, but for real. What is possibly going on that you've already resorted gun violence at 9:30 am? There's no logical justification for it. Life is just getting beyond reason, and that's how you know something really, really radical is going to happen in the near future that's going to change everything, because it pretty much has to.
A long time ago I used to be anti-guns, anti-death penalty, all of that shit, and I had my justification. The death penalty just seems inherently hypocritical to me, and I can't resolve that philosphical gap in my own mind to this day, but somewhere along the line philosophy gets driven off the road by practicality. Some people are just too much to be allowed to run loose in the world, even within the confines of the prison system. And here are my two cents on an issue I believe the Supreme Court will soon be hearing this term; the death penalty should not be reserved for those convicted of homicide. These people who like molesting kids are far more deserving of it in my opinion but that's a whole other topic.
Everybody is simply going apeshit. I don't know if it's all the greasy food and preservatives, if it's the repetitive skull numbing music, if it's Dr. Phil's fault or what, but something is going wrong, big time, and we all just seem to be far too accepting of it.
I used to be opposed to owning guns but I'm certainly not anymore, because they have guns, and they are crazy. And every time I leave my bedroom, I'm entering their domain where apparently anything can happen first thing in the morning. If this is the situation then just like Omar said, "The game is out there, and it's play or get played." But what kind of fucked up shit is this to have to deal with. A world where everybody has guns? Guns that have triggers, and all it takes is an index finger to pull it, and when you pull it a bullet flies out. A bullet is a piece of metal, rounded and shaped to fly through the air, spiraling for accuracy, and sometimes hollowed out so that when they reach your target, they collapse broadening and roughening their piercing end so that they won't exit the target, but will stay inside piercing and tearing tissue and vital organs, which will render your target seriously incapacitated, if not mortally wounded. And why you might ask is this the case? Who knows, but apparently you can piss people off enough before the suns even all the way out of bed for them to point one of these things at you and let fly.
This is craziness. Bill of rights enthusiasts will tell you that it's their right to bear arms and that they understand how to use them and would only do so if they felt threatened. I personally take the Seinfeld view on this, "People with guns don't understand. That's why they get guns, too many misunderstandings." Yet, while I hold this belief, I certainly don't want to be the one caught naked when everybody outside has all their clothes on, and an angry look on their face. What's a man to do? Stop reading the news maybe. At least then you won't see it coming.
I think the biggest mistake we all make is seeing this stuff happen, and watching the news like it's a documentary on Aids in Africa, like it will never affect us. The other day I was sitting outside of my house in Carlisle, PA, miles away from anything of significance to people who have grown up in a real city. I was double parked for convenience, but the street was wide enough for two cars to fit through even with cars parked along both curbs. Within 2 minutes, two people drove by honking their horns, one of them slowed down as they drove by to peer into the car and see who was there, as if to say "What is your problem, city boy?" The second guy even pulled over on the other side of the street, got out of his car leered over to try and scare us off I suppose. I remember thinking; these poor idiots have no idea what's going on in the world. I felt this way because I know for a fact, that just less than an hour and change south of Carlisle, there is a city where one can find themself rendered lifeless for committing such an act. Stopping and looking into cars at people you don't know is an action that can cost you your life in many parts of this fascinating country, but these people only see and hear about that on the news if at all. The news is no barrier to reality, I just hope these people don't carry their antiquated country habits too far into modern territory. God knows what will happen when these two borders eventually meet.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Stop Acting Skinny
"How was work today, honey?"
"Oh, just another episode of 'A fat woman clip-clopped into the shoe store today.'"
-- Al Bundy
As someone who likes to think of myself as somewhat of a humanitarian, and moreover as a person whose physical dimensions fall somewhat shy of superficially ideal, far-be-it for me to criticize someone else for their morphological short-comings.
I lie, I jam on funny-looking people all the time, but not out of pure mean-spiritedness if that counts for anything. Most of my ire is directed at those peculiar lookers who display a manner of a person much more normal looking than themselves, an air of arrogance even.
The other day, as I was leaving the library on the Dickinson College campus, I spotted what is not a totally unusual sight these days, a lesbian couple. But these were no ordinary lesbians, they were a pair of chubsters. I really have nothing in particular against hefty women, many of them that I have known have been amongst the more pleasant individuals that I've met. But every now and then, you run across a sour apple who just messes up everything for the rest of the barrell. These two girls appeared to be just such apples. I know I didn't talk to them, or get to know them or any of that blah blah that people say you should do before you go and judge somebody but fuck that, some shit is just too much.
The pair sashayed down the street holding hands in a most conspicuous fashion, almost as if they were purposely drawing attention to themselves. Compound that with the fact that in my humblest of estimations there was about 5 and a half to 6 hundred of the old L B's between the two of them, and you have quite a sight strolling down the street on a nice cool spring day. Many may say, what is so wrong with that, what is your problem with a couple of chubby lesbians enjoying a nice romantic stroll? Here is my problem.
The one on the right was fairly normal looking for a person, but her girlfriend with whom she shared periodic romantic pecks on the neck in just the short period of time that I could watch was quite a different story. If the visual of the neck kissing isn't enough to turn you off, note this. This young person was about 5'6", had the abdominal girth of an NFL guard, wearing the pants that cut-off at the calf and looked like they were supposed to be the loose kind, but they were obviously not contemplated for someone of such impressive mass. Her peeled back 3 inch pony-tail was just barely visible beneath the bill of her backwards green army camouflage baseball cap, with a bright pink adjustable strap in the front right above her considerable, cro-magnon forehead. She sported a pair of what I imagine were at some point flip-flops that were now hanging on to their last shred of existence clanging to the bottoms of her hobbit feet. All the while she strolled along loudly reciting some indecipherable song lyrics I couldn't recognize. I only guessed it was a song because of the strange bopping back and forth to some imaginary beat that she was doing, that only served to enhance the already plentiful gyrating cellulose visible beneath her overly tight clothing. But the piece that really set me off was this. She had on a shirt, the shirt looked to be more than big enough to house her upper body in it's entirety, yet inexplicably it was rolled up exposing her midriff.
Midriff is a word that should only be used to describe the exposed abdominal region of a young woman who has prioritized her physical health somewhere ahead of obscene amounts of Hagen-Dazs, and recreational beer and burger binges, which are my only guess as to how two people like this could grow so large.
I really don't mean to be hating on fat women, but this was one of the most ridiculous sights I have ever laid my eyes on. If this girl got down on all fours her stomach would have definitely dragged along the sidewalk, yet she felt confident enough to deliberately expose her saturated, dracula-pale belly for all passers-by to see. Which they all did, many stopping and turning after the couple walked by, sporting expressions on their faces that embodied the very words that I am now writing.
Be realistic, please. It's one thing to be fat, fine, I'm hardly in a position to criticize, but don't try to act skinny. It's not self-righteous to display a body you know no one wants to see, you're not embracing your identity, or doing any other corny Dr. Phil shit by showing off how comfortable you are being considerably overweight. Please, just stop, think, breathe, and put on clothes that were made for you.
On a related note, I was at the pool the other day and saw another very large woman in a bikini.
I have no problem with big women swimming. But come on now. And who even makes bikinis in size super-big? Why even leave the option really, it's socially irresponsible to walk around like that. You're nothing but a big walking target for snickering and laughs and mimicked-vomiting motions, all of which I saw and none of which were perpetrated by me. All of this could have been avoided by just sticking to the script. You're big, you want to swim, fine. Just don't go apeshit and pretend you feel fine putting all that out there for everyone to see. It's really just too much.
"Oh, just another episode of 'A fat woman clip-clopped into the shoe store today.'"
-- Al Bundy
As someone who likes to think of myself as somewhat of a humanitarian, and moreover as a person whose physical dimensions fall somewhat shy of superficially ideal, far-be-it for me to criticize someone else for their morphological short-comings.
I lie, I jam on funny-looking people all the time, but not out of pure mean-spiritedness if that counts for anything. Most of my ire is directed at those peculiar lookers who display a manner of a person much more normal looking than themselves, an air of arrogance even.
The other day, as I was leaving the library on the Dickinson College campus, I spotted what is not a totally unusual sight these days, a lesbian couple. But these were no ordinary lesbians, they were a pair of chubsters. I really have nothing in particular against hefty women, many of them that I have known have been amongst the more pleasant individuals that I've met. But every now and then, you run across a sour apple who just messes up everything for the rest of the barrell. These two girls appeared to be just such apples. I know I didn't talk to them, or get to know them or any of that blah blah that people say you should do before you go and judge somebody but fuck that, some shit is just too much.
The pair sashayed down the street holding hands in a most conspicuous fashion, almost as if they were purposely drawing attention to themselves. Compound that with the fact that in my humblest of estimations there was about 5 and a half to 6 hundred of the old L B's between the two of them, and you have quite a sight strolling down the street on a nice cool spring day. Many may say, what is so wrong with that, what is your problem with a couple of chubby lesbians enjoying a nice romantic stroll? Here is my problem.
The one on the right was fairly normal looking for a person, but her girlfriend with whom she shared periodic romantic pecks on the neck in just the short period of time that I could watch was quite a different story. If the visual of the neck kissing isn't enough to turn you off, note this. This young person was about 5'6", had the abdominal girth of an NFL guard, wearing the pants that cut-off at the calf and looked like they were supposed to be the loose kind, but they were obviously not contemplated for someone of such impressive mass. Her peeled back 3 inch pony-tail was just barely visible beneath the bill of her backwards green army camouflage baseball cap, with a bright pink adjustable strap in the front right above her considerable, cro-magnon forehead. She sported a pair of what I imagine were at some point flip-flops that were now hanging on to their last shred of existence clanging to the bottoms of her hobbit feet. All the while she strolled along loudly reciting some indecipherable song lyrics I couldn't recognize. I only guessed it was a song because of the strange bopping back and forth to some imaginary beat that she was doing, that only served to enhance the already plentiful gyrating cellulose visible beneath her overly tight clothing. But the piece that really set me off was this. She had on a shirt, the shirt looked to be more than big enough to house her upper body in it's entirety, yet inexplicably it was rolled up exposing her midriff.
Midriff is a word that should only be used to describe the exposed abdominal region of a young woman who has prioritized her physical health somewhere ahead of obscene amounts of Hagen-Dazs, and recreational beer and burger binges, which are my only guess as to how two people like this could grow so large.
I really don't mean to be hating on fat women, but this was one of the most ridiculous sights I have ever laid my eyes on. If this girl got down on all fours her stomach would have definitely dragged along the sidewalk, yet she felt confident enough to deliberately expose her saturated, dracula-pale belly for all passers-by to see. Which they all did, many stopping and turning after the couple walked by, sporting expressions on their faces that embodied the very words that I am now writing.
Be realistic, please. It's one thing to be fat, fine, I'm hardly in a position to criticize, but don't try to act skinny. It's not self-righteous to display a body you know no one wants to see, you're not embracing your identity, or doing any other corny Dr. Phil shit by showing off how comfortable you are being considerably overweight. Please, just stop, think, breathe, and put on clothes that were made for you.
On a related note, I was at the pool the other day and saw another very large woman in a bikini.
I have no problem with big women swimming. But come on now. And who even makes bikinis in size super-big? Why even leave the option really, it's socially irresponsible to walk around like that. You're nothing but a big walking target for snickering and laughs and mimicked-vomiting motions, all of which I saw and none of which were perpetrated by me. All of this could have been avoided by just sticking to the script. You're big, you want to swim, fine. Just don't go apeshit and pretend you feel fine putting all that out there for everyone to see. It's really just too much.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Celebrities Do Dumb Shit
"Can't turn a hoe into a housewife."
--Tupac Shakur
A little while ago, a friend of mine sent me a text message that read "Kim K. is going to insure her ass. Lol." I really don't give a fuck about celebrity news in any sense of the word. In fact I try to avoid learning anything about these peoples personal lives if I can, because I just don't care. And out of all the things in the world that I despise, there is little I hate more than these people who make their living being "Celebrity Experts". The Joan Rivers and and whoever else does it that know all the info on people with money and status, and apparently no sense of propriety or shame. As far as her insuring her ass, whatever truth there is to this statement, they only do it for publicity, so it doesn't really deserve any more of a mention than that.
I really disapprove of people like Kim Kardashian being celebrities inasmuch as it extends past what she does best, posing for provocative pictures. That's all she is, a girl who has been blessed with a nice face and a voluptuous body. Outside of that, she's nothing as far as I'm concerned. I learned recently that there is a show entitled Keeping Up With the Kardashians. It occurs to me that any real popular following this family has incurred has happened almost entirely as a result of Ms. Kim's having been spotted all over the internet fellating one of her boyfriends.
How her family is able to sleep at night capitalizing off of this, what has to be a personal horror, I have no idea. Good thing for her father he's not here to see this, but I'm sure he's doing somersaults in his grave knowing that his family is now famous because his daughter is all over the internet 'S'-ing and 'F'-ing a black 'D' for all to see. Every fathers dream.
While I'm on the topic, I can't support Reggie Bush anymore, and this will be the last of the celebrity talk I do. Did he even have parents? How could a mother, father, step-parent, cousin, anyone let one of their relatives go out and publicly put their mouth on an internet porn-star? Out of all the broads in all the world a Reggie Bush could land, this is what you come up with? I guess at this day and age damn near everybody is someone else's leftovers, but damn. At least normal people are generally afforded the luxury of not having the whole world offered visual proof of her giving her body away like a tax rebate.
How can you wife up a girl who's been whored out on the internet? Seriously. She's hot, sure, can't really take that away from her, but worthless. She is devoid of all worth now. Pretty much every girl I know, none of them really being on her level appearance-wise (all apologies) can take pride in knowing that they are far more appealing than her in every meaningful aspect. Whoever said looks aren't everything saw deeply into life, and this may be the crowning example. As physically attractive as she is, I, Mike Brown, all 5'7" 200 lbs of me that sits beneath a receded hairline, and would need a new word 3 steps above lucky to describe the state of affairs were I able to land a girl of her physical stature, could not possibly justify wifing her.
I will admit, as far as women are concerned looks definitely count quite a bit, but not enough compensate in her case. I can already hear the most cynical of my male counterparts chiding me for acting like I wouldn't give her a run if I had the chance. This argument is invalid, because that's not even the point. You'd be hard pressed to find a man anywhere who wouldn't, that's just what men do, but I damn sure wouldn't put my name on her because I have parents. A brother, a sister, a family that expects things from me. Moreover I have a stomach that churns at the idea of a woman I will give my name to being on the internet on all fours, mouth agape waiting for the inevitable. Pardon the visual, but she did it, not me.
Somebody please talk to the boy Reggie, he's a role model now, kids are looking up to him. "Keep yo heart 3-stacks." She ain't the one.
--Tupac Shakur
A little while ago, a friend of mine sent me a text message that read "Kim K. is going to insure her ass. Lol." I really don't give a fuck about celebrity news in any sense of the word. In fact I try to avoid learning anything about these peoples personal lives if I can, because I just don't care. And out of all the things in the world that I despise, there is little I hate more than these people who make their living being "Celebrity Experts". The Joan Rivers and and whoever else does it that know all the info on people with money and status, and apparently no sense of propriety or shame. As far as her insuring her ass, whatever truth there is to this statement, they only do it for publicity, so it doesn't really deserve any more of a mention than that.
I really disapprove of people like Kim Kardashian being celebrities inasmuch as it extends past what she does best, posing for provocative pictures. That's all she is, a girl who has been blessed with a nice face and a voluptuous body. Outside of that, she's nothing as far as I'm concerned. I learned recently that there is a show entitled Keeping Up With the Kardashians. It occurs to me that any real popular following this family has incurred has happened almost entirely as a result of Ms. Kim's having been spotted all over the internet fellating one of her boyfriends.
How her family is able to sleep at night capitalizing off of this, what has to be a personal horror, I have no idea. Good thing for her father he's not here to see this, but I'm sure he's doing somersaults in his grave knowing that his family is now famous because his daughter is all over the internet 'S'-ing and 'F'-ing a black 'D' for all to see. Every fathers dream.
While I'm on the topic, I can't support Reggie Bush anymore, and this will be the last of the celebrity talk I do. Did he even have parents? How could a mother, father, step-parent, cousin, anyone let one of their relatives go out and publicly put their mouth on an internet porn-star? Out of all the broads in all the world a Reggie Bush could land, this is what you come up with? I guess at this day and age damn near everybody is someone else's leftovers, but damn. At least normal people are generally afforded the luxury of not having the whole world offered visual proof of her giving her body away like a tax rebate.
How can you wife up a girl who's been whored out on the internet? Seriously. She's hot, sure, can't really take that away from her, but worthless. She is devoid of all worth now. Pretty much every girl I know, none of them really being on her level appearance-wise (all apologies) can take pride in knowing that they are far more appealing than her in every meaningful aspect. Whoever said looks aren't everything saw deeply into life, and this may be the crowning example. As physically attractive as she is, I, Mike Brown, all 5'7" 200 lbs of me that sits beneath a receded hairline, and would need a new word 3 steps above lucky to describe the state of affairs were I able to land a girl of her physical stature, could not possibly justify wifing her.
I will admit, as far as women are concerned looks definitely count quite a bit, but not enough compensate in her case. I can already hear the most cynical of my male counterparts chiding me for acting like I wouldn't give her a run if I had the chance. This argument is invalid, because that's not even the point. You'd be hard pressed to find a man anywhere who wouldn't, that's just what men do, but I damn sure wouldn't put my name on her because I have parents. A brother, a sister, a family that expects things from me. Moreover I have a stomach that churns at the idea of a woman I will give my name to being on the internet on all fours, mouth agape waiting for the inevitable. Pardon the visual, but she did it, not me.
Somebody please talk to the boy Reggie, he's a role model now, kids are looking up to him. "Keep yo heart 3-stacks." She ain't the one.
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