YRUN2DP?

This Blog ...

2009-02-09T02:49:00.003-06:00

... is on life support. Don't worry, though. I've learned of an impending re-incarnation: This May Concern You.

It started out on Facebook as an open letter to the one person who refuses to deny or accept my friend request. My friends ate it up. So I decided to keep writing and try to turn it into a collection of self-deprecating, whimisical, sarcastic and sometimes bluntly honest open letters to some random and not-so-random people, places and things (I could've just said proper nouns and been done with it).

I want to make it to 100 letters. Take a look, let me know what you think. If you like it, can you pass it along?

Phone Sex

2008-07-01T09:26:00.001-05:00

So I answered this phone call about five minutes ago. The call is from Baltimore, Md., a sales lady wanting to speak to our bureau chief , who's out of the office today, about phone service. I told the lady the bossman was out. I expected the phone call to immediately end. But after trying to pinpoint when would be the best day for her to call back (never), the woman says "I just love your voice. It's so soothing."

I pause, and then say "thank you," like you would say.

She then proceeds to ask me how the weather is where I am. She asks this question "just to keep you on the phone."

I say it's like 75 degrees and cloudy, and she again says that she loves my voice.

I say "thank you," again, but that "I have to get back to work."

She says she doesn't want to let me go, but she understands. I tell her to have a good day as I picture her cheesing with three golds beaming out of her grill.

I hang up the phone.

I've had my laugh for the day, but I am thoroughly disgusted.

Greatest R&B Talent Ever? Really?

2008-06-17T14:30:00.001-05:00

"He did all of this after he peed on the girl."

That's all my boy GM would say. It was his defense as to why Robert "I want to piss on you" Kelly, who was acquitted of 14 child porn charges, is the greatest R&B talent.

There were six of us at the table engaged in this debate. Three agreed with GM. NYC Body and I were the only two to dissent.

Shuttlesworth's Twin argued that R. Kelly had the sales. John Lennon's Black Daughter (JLBD) said Kelly had the hits. And GM's Wifey agreed with her husband because that's what she's supposed to do (not really, but she didn't happen to give reason for her argument).

They all turned to me and asked "Vic, who is better? Name someone."

(insert momentary pause)

"You're not giving us anything."

I tend not to handle that type of spotlight well. You know, that kind where it seems like everyone is really breathing down your neck for an answer you don't immediately have.

After some thought, I came up with Brian McKnight, Babyface and even Raphael Saadiq ... as artists. Even in bringing those names up, and understanding the quality and depth of their works, no one would dare say one of them was better than Kells. In fact, GM and Shuttlesworth's Twin actually defended Kelly.

It got me to thinking.

There really is something wrong with this world when the best R&B artist is an (alleged) pedophile. I mean, R. Kelly is to black music what crack was to the black community in the 1980s.

Can you imagine what R&B music would be like if R. Kelly had written 10 more "I Believe I Can Fly"-like tracks, and fewer hood anthems that have no place in our society? I'm not even talking about the sex joints because some of them have their places.

But "You Remind Me of My Jeep?" Really? Or pretty much anything off of about his last three albums? Everything since TP3 (include TP3 because it sucked) has been crap, and this is the best we have, allegedly.

I think not.

I'll admit it, I have about 100 R. Kelly tracks on my computer. He's a hitmaker. But I'll never buy another R. Kelly album.

He's a huge part of the problem. He can't be the best R&B artist ever. He's a great musical talent and a great fear to the public for his (alleged) acts with underage girls.

It's kinda like Roger Clemens and steroids - but worse. Clemens may be the greatest pitcher of my lifetime, yet he's probably not going to the hall of fame right away, if ever, because he used 'roids.

R. Kelly can't be the the best R&B artist ever because he, too, must be disqualified from the discussion. That "he did all of this after he peed on the girl," actually makes my case.

HE PEED ON THE GIRL. He can't see anything wrong with a little bump and grind with a 13-year-old girl. Neither his mind nor his body told him no.

I don't care what that jury said, that's Robert Kelly in the video. There are Soul Train awards in the background. Think about it.

End of discussion.

This isn't that nice, but still ...

2008-04-02T18:11:00.002-05:00

As a child, I ate some white creamy substance - probably mayonnaise or Miracle Whip. Yet the whip had little miracle. In fact, it disgusted me. So much that I stopped eating most white creamy substances.

No 'Whip, sour cream, ranch dressing, etc. As this little nugget might tell you, I have a problem with learned associations. There are plenty of things I won't do because of some negative association.

This brings me to today. I saw this picture of this girl I went to college with on Facebook. She looked cute, better than she did in school. Not to say she looked bad, she just looked better. Hypothetically, if she were an eight in college she'd have been a 10 in this picture. Now, I won't rate her because I'm done rating people, as you know if you've read this blog before.

But she did have one problem. Although she looked good, all I could think about were her feet, her smelly, nasty feet that is. I remember the last time I was close enough to her that she invaded my keno sphere with a huge.

She had on sneakers, and she invaded my personal space with the smell of her feet despite sneakers and socks. It was foul.

And ever since then, whenever I see or think of her I think of how disgusting her feet smelled that last day I saw her, and I factor that into what I think of her. Is this wrong? Should I try to fix this about myself, and try to give her picture another shot tomorrow?

I'm just scared that I might have a gag reflex if I stare and think for too long.

Thoughts? Anyone?

Khaki is the new trash

2008-03-30T21:29:00.003-05:00

I have a dilemma. I'm starting a new job soon. It will be the first job where I will be required to wear business casual attire daily.

Don't get me wrong. I can dress. I used to gear it up for work with absolutely no justifiable reason, back when I could wear a ballcap and shorts on summer days because I worked in the sports department.

I have enough of business casual wear to last a month if not longer. But that's not the problem.

Problem: I still have Khaki pants in my closet. I never - and I mean never - wear Khaki. But I need to get rid of them, all five pair. Like, yesterday.

I have about 20 pair of slacks. But I already know that on some random Tuesday I will long to slip back into that comfortable, yet sturdy feel of the Khaki, one different from the any other pant. I'll want to wear them to work. But I can't.

To understand why I this would be an egregious error to my style I must take you back, back into time.

The school year was 1993-94. Rayon and Silk button-down shirts were the in styles for the black man. But we ran into a problem that abruptly ended this fad. You couldn't sweat in either fabric. If you did, you would ruin said shirt and no girl who saw you with that shirt on would talk to you. Oh they would talk, but it would be about you.

So, with Snoop Dogg's help at the Vibe or Source Awards and Boyz II Men's Alexander Vanderpool feel, we transitioned to what I called the "uniform" look. It consisted of the name brands Tommy Hilifiger, Nautica, Polo, Dockers and Eastlands.

Trust me, you were nothing without a pair of Eastlands. One of the few pants that fit properly on top of the Eastlands were the Khaki pant. I can't tell you why, I just know it was part of the uniform, thus I followed the trend.

I lined my closet with Dockers, no Dickies please, from about 1996 to 2003. Then somehow, some way, the Khaki pant disappeared from the black man's wearable wardrobe.

I received no memo, but it seemed that all at once, black men stopped rocking clean Khaki pants. The cargo look was there for a sec over the Tims, but no regular Dockers.

Thus, I followed suit.

Do you see my dilemma now? I prefer jeans, and wear them regularly. But they won't work for work. I haven't worn a pair of Khakis since about 2003 or '04. And I know I will want to put them on because it's work.

But they're a major no-no. What to do?

I'm really tempted to burn or trash them for fear that I might actually pull them out one morning. I'll end up in front of the mirror saying "you know, that doesn't look half-bad."

But it will look/be all bad by lunch. Really, what am I going to do? I don't know.

Suggestions are welcome.

The Emotional Gamut

2008-03-29T00:54:00.004-05:00

This has been a tough week. I've ran the emotional gamut, a few times.

On Monday, I received an unbelievable, yet long desired call. An editor from a premier newswriting outfit in town called to offer me a position where I'll do an array of things (write news, sports and some copy editing).

I said yes on the spot. I didn't overwork myself because I'd recently been let down by a another prospective job opportunity, and it crushed me for a few days. So, I didn't want to get too high or low depending on the phone call. I remained reserved, even in telling my best friends. They seemed more excited than me, although I truly am reservedly ecstatic.

I guess I'm glad I didn't get too high because of the letdown that came next.

One of my fraternity brothers was killed in a carjacking in downtown Kansas City on Tuesday night. This brother, 25-year-old Brandon McDowel, and I weren't extremely close. But we crossed paths often enough to know each other and to have many of the same friends.

First, I saw statuses slowly change on Facebook. Then I turned on the news, and it hit me. There he was, a black male college graduate prepared to finish grad school and go to law school in the fall, dead at the hands of self-hate's perplexing plight.

In some people's eyes, he's now no more than a grim statistic like Sean Taylor, Darrent Williams and countless other 20-something black men reduced to earth far too early. But this was different. This hit home, literally. It could have been one of my line brothers who lived maybe two blocks away from where this happened a few years back. It could have been my brother. It could have been me.

So all you're left with are questions. Why him? Why now? Why do these people loathe life so much that they want to take it from others? And then there's only one conclusion to it all.

Make sure you tell everyone you love that you love them. Make sure they hear and feel your words even if, in a moment, they make you seem or feel like a sap. You put things in a unique perspective knowing full well that perspective won't necessarily stick.

On Wednesday, I rang one of my cousins, a fraternity brother as well, who was closer to the Brandon than I. We tried to make sense of it, and couldn't. So we reminded each other of the sentiments in the previous paragraph.

We tried to move past it, tried to talk about other things - my new job, the bar he works at, that he was leaving town in a few hours, the new downtown development and St. Patrick's Day. Anything to pull our thoughts momentarily away from the ignorance.

All of these thoughts, good and bad, and all I wanted to do was call Triple B, and run my gamut through her ear and her world. This was a hard week because of all of the things that happened, but also because I felt like I couldn't share it all with her, the person with whom I have the strongest connection.

I haven't had a bad week concerning Triple B since, well, it's been so long that I can't really remember. The last time I had this urge to make sure she knew I loved her - last year the day everything went down at Va. Tech - I dialed her and told her. But not this time. Doesn't quite seem right, but it's still weirded me out.

Didn't help much that Q-boog rambled on about a similar situation with a guy in her hometown of Milwaukee earlier this week, too. That conversation made me wonder if this situation with Triple B will ever fully end in my head. Yeah, Q-Boog's man problem is that (a decade-plus type) serious.

So just throw that situation on top.

Oh, a friend who is quickly becoming my best friend in KC is leaving for the Peace Corps in a month.

And I got featured in a picture on Stuff Educated Black People Like since I designed the header.

So, I've got a lot going on, a lot to think about (told ya). The funeral is in the morning. I'll be there, deep in thought, still trying to make since of it all. If you can, just say a prayer for me, my people here in Kansas City and those who revel in the ills of self-hate.

If there's one thing I knew immediately when I saw the story on Brandon, it's that self-hate is prevalent in our society and at the root at the majority of our problems. We need to find help for those who suffer from it because it tragically affects us all. Some times, it's a little closer to home unfortunately.

Thanks Dick

2008-03-24T17:05:00.004-05:00

I found myself glued to the couch this weekend, my eyes consistently focused on my local CBS station.

There, NCAA teams throughout the nation were running up and down basketball courts beginning the arduous trek from the start of March Madness to April's Final Four. Upsets abound. Buzzer beaters fell. The unexpected was expected.

There are schools that you have no clue as to where they are, Davidson and Belmont to be specific, that come out of nowhere to challenge hated squads such as Duke and prominent teams such as Georgetown. Some win. Davidson knocked the Hoyas. And we all tune in, because we have a vested interest in a team or two or because we have $5 invested in a bracket pool.

I, for example, watched maybe 10 hours of hoops between Thursday and Sunday night. I avoided most human interaction. It might be the best time of year for any man. Just him, his television, his beer, his comfort food and his bracket. No (or few) women.

Only one problem exists: the commentators, and more particularly their overwhelmingly skewed viewpoints concerning black and white athletes.

I will not name names, but I will point out the obvious because it's necessary. Most of the commentators are white men, and it's apparent per their word choice this weekend that they believe the black athlete is physically superior to his white counterpart.

All weekend, I watched shot after shot, amazing play after amazing play. Every time a black player did something outstanding the commentator deemed him "a great athlete" or he'd say, "He's so athletic."

Conversely, if a white hoopster made a great play, the commentator called him a "hard worker" or "a hustler" or even "intelligent with a high basketball acumen." One commentator went so far as to call UCLA standout freshman Kevin Love, a white player with serious skill, "not the best athlete," while he blocked seven second-half shots and almost single-handedly led his team to victory. They gave him the "high basketball acumen" mark.

Are you freaking kidding me? Kevin "McLovin" Love is a top-five lock in this year's NBA draft. NBA team don't draft "non athletic" players with top-five picks.

Ludicrous. These commentators are the verbal equivalent to listening to Emmitt Smith or Michael Irvin ramble, and I mean stumble through incomprehensible sentences, on Sunday mornings. They might as well say what they're thinking. Blacks are better athletes, and whites are ...

That's why they don't. But why say anything? Why say so much that your true feelings are no longer veiled and you come across like an insensitive asshole who is stating, albeit in a roundabout manner, that black athelete don't work hard, can't be smart and don't have to exert much effort?

To no one's surprise, this has been going on for years (see: Magic and Bird). But I don't understand how and why major media has yet to stop this buffoonery. Hire some black men to commentate sports. Not just (insert name of any white commentator you know because I know you can't think of a black one). Maybe this shit wouldn't be so commonplace.

We all know what they're thinking, and it's not politically or actually correct. Yes, somehow black athletes are dominating professional sports, and it likely has something to do with the black gene pool being toyed with on several fronts by the white man from about 1600 to 1865.

But that doesn't give you the right to backhandedly say white athletes are smarter and work harder. That's not right, and really, really fucked up. Fucked up enough to where it screwed up my man weekend.

On Thursday night, I'm watching the games on mute, and putting my iTunes on shuffle. It's that bad.

ed's note: commentator Kevin Harlan, a fellow Kansas Citian, is not included in the list of commentators who make idiot remarks.

I Owe You One ....

2008-03-20T21:51:00.001-05:00

I told a friend last week that if I was 17, Teyana Taylor would be my crush. Thus, I bring to you, Google Me, her first single. It's been surfing the net for a long time, but they're finally dropping this vid.

A More Perfect Union

2008-03-18T17:08:00.005-05:00

Today, we take a break from the daily bantering about me and my world to analyze Barack Obama's speech. Some of the media are dissecting it word by word saying he didn't do enough in denouncing his former pastor others are heralding it as historic.

Here are my thoughts.

As you know, I am a supporter of Obama's movement. I love that he is an architect of words, a thinker before a speaker, a listener, and most important, a uniting force.

That said, Obama's speech today, which I'm watching now on YouTube and read earlier today on Internet, moved me. Surprise, surprise, right?

Get this, I didn't totally agree with everything he said today, or think he said everything as best he could. It was wordy in some places, and unclear in others.

But here's why it moved me: it was earnest.

There is a brutal honesty found within this speech, a candidness you will find in the words of few other politicians. Obama worked both sides. He played every card the way Jimmy Rabbit did on stage in 8 Mile (bad analogy, I know). Barack told the nation about itself from the perspective of a embittered black man chastising whites for slavery and Jim Crow to the white working class despising blacks for affirmative action.

But he weaved his words and analogies all in the name of unity, the idea of perfecting our union in mind. Not making this country perfect, but striving for perfection understanding full well that we will fall short. He said he understand the impossibility and impracticality of curing all of the ills of the racial divide in this country during his time in office.

Yet in still, there's is a profoundness to a man who dare hope in the face of iniquity, a man who stands up at every turn and agrees or disagrees staunchly with his supporters and naysayers in moments of triumph and failure. This is what we, as a black people, have hoped for in Tiger Woods and Michael Jordan in so many ways. Someone to say something, that makes sense, in moments that matter, and be able to move a people.

But now we understand that he isn't going to agree with every black plight, as he has suggested by denouncing his former pastor's words. But Obama will call a spade a spade, whether it's white, black, Latino or Asian; whether it's rich or poor; corporate or union.

The thing he wants us to take from this tough, at least I believe, is to do what you do, and say what you say in the name of unity, in that name of perfected union. I could a write thesis on what the words perfection, perfected and perfect truly mean. They are loaded words.

But Obama is conveying that we should be striving for a perfected union, one that wants to provide a harmonious life for every child, woman, man and elder it possibly can, understanding that it can't.

That is this speech's purpose. It an attempt by Obama to make clear his purpose for running, and his true ambitions for America, to do the best things possible for the greatest number of Americans. The question is, Who are we to stop him or our own people?

And by people I mean Americans (and all watching superdelegates).

The Essentials

2008-03-17T15:09:00.003-05:00

I'm stealing this idea from a blogger friend, including the first half of the first essential.

The Essentials of Vic Damone, Jr.

I am a sucker for a good R&B song.
I am extremely outgoing, but keen of my surroundings when I'm the center of attention.
I believe I am smart, but have dumb moments all day long.
I love watching kids, but for three hours max.
I never check my voicemail, unless I'm certain it's an important call.
I dreamed of being an actor in high school.
I loathe all precipitation, unless I am engaging in some movie-like love moment.
I think every one should read the Bible, even if they don't believe in God, for the stories. They're that good.
I was able to sing like Barry White in the seventh grade, and got the girls because of that skill alone.
I really do want to date Halle Berry because I think I'm capable of loving a crazy woman.
I will always desire a woman I believe is beautiful without makeup, weave or an altered nose.
I believe God laughs at people who marry right as they're pronouncing their love for one another during their vows.
I'm a sucker for a good necktie, and will always spend money on one.
I have at least 50 neckties, and will keep buying them although a sensible person will only wear one at a time.
I will play my mother's vinyl records until I die.
I will change my life's goals daily until I find some that suite me to a tee.
I read for fun, only.
I write because my livelihood depends on it ...

What are your essentials?

At A Loss

2008-03-16T01:25:00.003-05:00

“I’m sorry. I’m at a loss for words.”

I have some advice for you. If in someway you allow the aforementioned phrase to seep out of your mouth in a moment of mental confinement, will you do all six of us in the real world a huge favor, and shut the fuck up?

Walk away from whatever podium, camera, microphone or reporter you’re standing in front of, and find something else to do with your idle mind. Preserve for us the precious few seconds you’re wasting so we can do something better with them than listen to you think of something to say after you have just told us you have nothing else to say.

Fuck a figure of speech, it’s a bad cliché. Can you possibly think of how it makes us feel to know we are wasting away listening to you think? If I added up the time I’ve waited for someone to say something profound after excusing that phrase from their person, then subtracted that figure from my age of 27, I would be, I don't know, 8.

This is not a gross exaggeration.

The first time I heard someone utter this phrase, I was in the second grade, and too young to recognize figures of speech. I took all things literally. If my mother said, “I’m going to whoop your ass when we get home,” I didn't laugh it off because she would follow through.

So when someone dare say “I’m at a loss for words,” I expected them to not say anything else. But, to my surprise, no one stops talking. They take it as an opportunity to soak up as much undeserved attention as possible.

“I… just don’t know what to say …. I just want to let you know that accomplishing this was just really, really hard, and it took a lot of effort.”

Really? It took effort to form that simplistic ass sentence and purse your lips to release it? Would you please …

… I don’t know … I’m frustrated … I’m walking away now because I’m at a loss for words.

Tales from the EBP

2008-03-15T02:55:00.004-05:00

I decide that I wanted to contribute something to StuffEducatedBlackPeopleLike. Being that the blog didn't have a header that remind you of/mock StuffWhitePeopleLike, I made one.

I sent it to the blog's author two nights ago, and within two minutes of sending it, she added it to the web site. Pretty funny. We've started a dialogue over e-mail and chat. She seems like a really cool, laid-back person. She has to be to write this blog.

I've even written her a sample entry or two she could use if she wants. If she does, I'll let you know.

But back to the important part: So my graphic-artist game is about to jumpoff. Not really, but I have received a couple of cool compliments from bloggers out there concerning the header.

Here's one taken from Mixin' It Up:

Bonus points for whoever designed the masthead image to StuffEducatedBlackPeopleLike, which I've included at the top of this post. Besides being identical in style and form to the original and their overt comparison in the "About" section, you'll notice a small tribute in the form of a picture of some Black folks in a fraternity step show. In the background is some kind of poster ad -- for sushi. Classic.

I was called "Classic." It gets no better.

The funniest part about it is that I didn't even realize that Sushi banner was in the background of the Alpha picture. The blog author actually pointed it out to me. Ironic. We both got a great laugh out of that one.

Anyway, stay tuned. Oh, and I may have some good news come next week. We'll see, though.

I Owe You One ...

2008-03-14T06:07:00.001-05:00

This is apparently what I'm going to call this weekly video segment because I always want to post it late. Anyway, this week, I give you Puffy (yes Puffy) when I could still stand him. If you don't know, this was when BIG was still alive. Thus, it's BIG and Total, Can't You See. Not the other way around because BIG dominates this track.

Being cool with a celeb

2008-03-12T18:59:00.005-05:00

My best friend, Q-Boog, is a producer for a network. She works crazy hours, and rarely gets time off. But she enjoys her job, ahem, career.

A few years back, through work, she made friends with a wildly popular celebrity whose name I will not mention. They exchanged numbers, and actually started talking. He calls her whenever he comes to town.

Once, he dialed her while she was prepping for bed. He asked her if she'd come out to where he was. Already in her PJs, she declined. He told her he would gladly come to her and "get in his jammies with her." Of course, she said no.

They haven't seen each other since they met. They always miss each other. But every month, she tells me that "(INSERT CELEB'S NAME) called again." I get a grand laugh at knowing that they're "friends."

It makes you wonder how much celebs appreciate meeting someone who has no interest in their celebrity, but who wants to know them for who they are. You know, someone the celebrity can confide simple truths in, and still not worry about that friend leeching on for the ride.

It's also an opportunity for the celeb to prove to be human. Q-Boog's father recently had a heart attack. She flew home to be by his side. This celeb happened to be coming to her current town as she was leaving. He texted Q-Boog in hopes of meeting up, finally. She told him about her Pops and that she was back home. They'd missed each other again.

As any friend would, he sent along his well wishes. But get this, he has talked to her more during this time period than I have. This celeb knew she was flying home to be by his side before I did.

He has called her every day to check on her and her Pops, sometimes more than once a day. Yesterday, he called while she was chilling with her Pops. Her dad, who is at home and doing better every day, got so excited about the phone call that he actually started singing this celeb's latest hit song in the background.

I will not give away the celeb's identity by typing a lyric of the song. But just know this, you totally wouldn't expect this type of friendship from him. Well, maybe you would. Then again, you wouldn't.

For me, though, it's good to know a celeb like this dude has a real side, that he actually isn't full of himself and cares about people.

An Admission ...

2008-03-10T01:00:00.003-05:00

There will be a week of my life some time in the next year where I will plant myself on a couch and watch every episode of HBO's "The Wire" from start to finish. This is because I have only seen maybe one episode ever, and I feel as though I'm about to lose my black card to this fault.

I have friends who talk about "The Wire," as though their lives would somehow be different if the show never went on the air five seasons ago. Yet, somehow I never got into it.

Maybe I never got into it because the one time I watched it was with my weed-loving cousin, who swears by it. He was trying to explain the characters to me while rolling/smoking a joint. It didn't work out so well. Maybe weed-smokers should concentrate on one thing at a time.

Some of my favorite writers, Whitlock and Bill Simmons can barely get through a 500-word column without mentioning it. Yet somehow, they haven't gotten through to me.

But it's okay. I will atone for my shortcomings. I promise you. My black card is that important to me.

I Owe You One ...

2008-03-06T23:08:00.001-06:00

I owe you a video. So without further adieu, Mos Def's Ms. Fat Booty.

Stuff People Like Explosion

2008-03-06T20:33:00.002-06:00

Just in case you've been sleep on the blogosphere in the last two weeks. There's a new champion out there, and it's name is stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com.

StuffWhitePeopleLike will make you wish you had thought of this before. It is an awesome read, and has gained an amazing amount of traction in three months of life.

It makes me want to start a similar blog. Not one about black people, someone is currently trying (StuffEducatedBlackPeopleLike) and it's OK at best (but still a daily read), but one about the things men want. I could educate women on men, and also dispel some of the myths out there about us at the same time.

I'm going to come up with about 20 things men want from women and life in general I think could make a good start. I might throw the ideas at a few of my trusted male friends. If they like it, I might give life to it. I've got a good start as far as things men hate for women to do (On Women).

Anyway, I really just wanted to make you guys who come here hip to what I'm reading.

I Am A Realist

2008-03-03T00:26:00.001-06:00

I am a realist,
I mean idealistically speaking,
I peak while reaching for the stars
From afar knowing my arms don’t extend that far.
So I just gaze, and crave that energy.
You know, try to synergize
That which I am with what lies in the sky
As I live my dream
To set aglow the ever-burning flame penned within me.
Realist I am, I promise you.
Not worried about whether behind my name there’s a comma or two,
Because dollars don’t define what I’ve found within.
Although sin slithers around, I’m still confound to the truth
That resounds in crevasses of a soul.
Behold, a reflection is a window leading to the scroll.
And if you can’t read: Him ... well,
I don’t know what to tell you.
Put your contacts in, get some Lasic,
Look harder than you are
Because a mirror image should never fail you.
I mean, I know the mistakes I make
Don’t you?
So why is that we reach for the sky at a time
When the lines aren’t blurred,
Absurd it seems,
There’s right and wrong
And little in between.
Realist I am, it’s what I scream
Metaphorically,
You might have to prescribe me a John 3:16 antihistamine
To keep me from loving the way my heart was written to.
See, the scroll has one word on it, and a bunch of synonyms
And you can’t pick one out from the others like a yellow M&M.
They all led back to the same root, despite their different hues
And though some throw stones and falsely accuse
The Realist still stand out with his idealistic fuse
Lit and ready to be excused from your presence
See, I was destined to be a star, born to reach the heavens
So as I aim for them, and hold Him in highest reverence
You can laugh or do as I do, whatever happens to be your preference
But I know severance from this shell leads to the well
Of life the replaces the pain and strife of this world,
And I want my cup to runneth over.
Pierce my blood with His because of it
I want mine to be anything but sober
If you want, you can depend on luck
Keep searching this earth for a four-leaved clover
But me, I’m a realist,
Idealistically speaking, until my days here are long over.

Got Me Waiting

2008-02-28T16:57:00.005-06:00

I've been out the loop for a few days. I've had a couple of bad ones. First, I didn't get the job I was fawning over. And then somehow, yesterday, I lost a $10 bill. I had $13 in cash and lost ten. I guess I should thank the ignorance of the unlucky number 13.

Anyway, I think I'm going to re-institute Vic Damone's "Random Thoughts" on Fridays to add some sense of continuity to the blog (this time i'm going to be good about adding links and pictures). The Random Thoughts are up to 10 things going thru my mind at a particular moment on Friday. They usually come back-to-back-to-back, so it can be pretty random.

I'm also gonna add a Vibin Video on Thursdays to do a little some thing different.

The video has to be something I can groove to in the midst of the worst day or week, much like this week. To start things off on this front, we're taking it back to middle school for me. Heavy D and The Boyz "Got Me Waiting" ...

To me it's a classic. Enjoy.

Damn it. As I tried to embed the link, I realized embedding is disabled off of Youtube. Anyway, here' the video link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxfRlA2t7kU . See what kind of week I'm having.

My Hope For Joan

2008-02-24T13:30:00.003-06:00

... is not what you think.

I've waited about a week or so. But I finally feel inclined to weigh in on the abrupt ending of Girlfriends, the sitcom that many blacks (especially black women) hold dear to their hearts.

I didn't just want to dump on the CW for dropping the show or question the aims the last season (it seemed to be going in about 527 directions all at once). But I wanted to give the show's ending an undeniable credence. So, I've taken my time, and I've come up with how I wish the show would end.

Finally, last night it came to me. Joan Clayton, the main character of the show, is meant to be alone for life. I mean, she's spent the better part of seven seasons searching for the perfect relationship under the constraining rules (like her three-month rule for sex), overthinking and overreacting.

When Joan found "the one" her dude was shipped off to fight in Iraq. Now the show has been canceled with her relationship in limbo because Aaron is still at war. Crazy, right? Maybe that's a fitting "end" of sorts, that this hopeless romantic actually end up by herself, hopeless.

It may sound crass. But I think it's not a bad way to leave the show, you know, Joan without the experience of another relationship (this time marriage) that she seemed destined to mess up. If they do have a proper finale, I think it would be best for the show if Aaron, Joan's husband is killed off at war in an accident of sorts ...

... and his funeral, Toni Childs, Joan's best friend since childhood returns to reconcile their relationship.

All at once, it makes several statements. It questions the war. It displays the importance of true friendship. It gives us the understanding that some of us just aren't meant to be in relationships no matter how hard we try to find that perfect person, a real but harsh reality.

It would be interesting to see William and Monica in their first days as parents in contrast to the death of Aaron. You know, the life and death ying and yang. On Lynn, it would be great to see her find yet another random person to sleep with, maybe a virgin. And Maya and Darnell. I've never be able to make much of this relationship. She just seems so spastic. Maybe she ends up pregnant again, or they finally adopt a child.

But most important, the show needs reconciliation between Toni and Joan, maybe the premier relationship during the show's run. Of course, I also want to see Jill Marie Jones in character again (I've been in love with Toni Childs for almost five years now).

The show lost traction when Jill Marie jumped ship, and it would be impossible to tie together the loose ends without her in the finale. It's Joan's most best relationship. The one she needs the most.

Turtle Power!

2008-02-22T17:02:00.004-06:00

While watching that Wayne Brady show, the one where people sing lines to pop songs for money, I realized something last night.

Wanya Morris from Boyz II Men looks like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. BIIM was on the show a celebrity contestants (their $500,000 song was "I'll Make Love To You. I think I'd go into $500,000 in debt to see them screw up their own song. Wait. No I wouldn't).

But this got me to thinking. Wanya isn't the only black celeb that fits the TMNT look. There's Mike Jones. Coming to this conclusion has me on a quest, a pursuit to find two other black celebs to play TMN Turtles.

I've already figured that Wanya would have to be Michaelangelo because of how loud and annoying he can be. Mike Jones is Raphael because, well because he's a rapper, and he's supposed to be "hard."

I need a Leonardo and a Donatello. Thus, I need a leader-type turtle-looking black celeb and one who is forever in deep thought and inventive. Any suggestions?

Oh, Katt Williams will play Splinter.

Chipping Away

2008-02-21T18:44:00.001-06:00

From Duffle Bag Boy: "I'm am on my shit, need a pamper on me." Friday night's experience has me on my game.

When God said “find yourself in a reflection”
Chipping away at your nose isn’t exactly what He meant.
See, so many are caught up in physical perception.
True perfection we’ve chosen to reject.
Found themselves in the in shelves
And aisles of the cosmetic surgery to beguile
A soul that lacks real depth.
Accept, their reality they will not.
So instead they trot into the surgeon’s chair.
Some, like I, prefer to call it the entrance to Pharoah’s lair.
Better known as the Sphinx.
You don’t want to make the connection
Well let me send you the link.
www.yournosedefinesyourface.com
Tells a story of your history, your race, a place
From whence some of your ancestors came
And see the Greeks chipped away at the memories of Giza
So you wouldn’t know your true name.
Trying to displace Egypt from Africa in our history books
But all you’ve gotta do is give Egyptians a single look.
Crazy, what you appear to be doing seems to be the same.
Carving out of your history book this unique piece of you,
To please the callings of a people of a different hue.
Makes me wonder when it was that we all went off cue.
The white man desiring full lips,
and the black woman wanting to chip …
maybe it was when we started to mix seeds,
Can’t say that totally bothers me.
Because real love knows only one face,
It lacks race in case you didn’t know,
It stares back you, no matter how wide or thin your nose.
So I’m left to wonder why some chose to go
The route of reworking the clay that God made … for you,
No, I can’t judge you for the things you chose to do.
But I will pray that you find the will to hold on to that not-so-distant memory.
Instead of sanding away your ancestors’ DNA
As if it were a nail filed down by a board of emery.

On Women

2008-02-20T15:54:00.004-06:00

I love women. As you know, I have more female than male friends. But that still doesn't mean that women don't do things that annoy (the hell outta) me at times. I have lived with three different women (four if you included the exorbitant hours I spent with Triple B back in the day).

Through my experiences, I have a compiled a list of the things that I absolutely loathe about women. For the woman whom I marry, this might be a great guideline for things not to do to piss me off.

This list is not complete. But as I think of something new, I will post it and add it. This list may help you in some small way with your man or in your pursuit of him. Bros., if you have something to gripe about, please comment.

1. Women don't ask questions. They imply things, and want you to do it without having to ask. Problem is, we mean aren't that aloof, and this game gets annoying. Don't say "I want (blah, blah, blah)" and expect me to get "blah, blah, blah" or do "blah, blah, blah," then get upset because I don't. If there is something you want from or of me, ASK please.

2. Toilet paper usage. Women use toilet paper as though there is an endless supply No woman should ever complain to a man about buying toilet paper. My wife, whoever she maybe will be responsible for toilet paper like I am to cutting the grass.

3. The trash. I don't mind taking it out. But if that shit stinks, and it stinks because of you, do not, and I repeat, do not leave that funk there for more than 15 minutes just for me to take it out. I will be pissed. Repeat. I will be pissed. If you fill the trash can up an hour after I have just emptied it, best believe you will also need to take it out.

4. Lifetime/Golden Girls. Do not expect me to watch either of these with you, the network or this show. I refuse. I would rather play in traffic sans clothing and see how long it is before I'm arrested than watch a Lifetime movie. Golden Girls was a good show. Operative word: was.

5. Attacking below the belt. In arguments, do not bring up things you shouldn't or use tactics that are hurtful and irrational in concerns with what we are arguing about. Most men do not think like this. We're rational creatures who, while we may do some irrational things, know when we're wrong even when we won't admit it. We don't need you to take cheap shots at us.

6. Weave. Nails and pedicures are fine. Weave? It will not grow on me. I mean never. Question? Have you ever engaged in a sexual act with a woman with a weave and tried to grasp her head or pull her hair only to feel as though there are abnormal growths on her head? Yeah, been there, done that. Never again (I hope). I understand some black women want their hair to grow, and wearing a weave can help that process. But just rocking one just cause? Dude, be you. Nothing against you if that's what you choose to do. Just a personal belief of my own.

7. Plastic surgery. I hold this one dear, especially for a black woman (and man) who wants to reconstruct her face by altering her nose. It's the same nose that the was knocked off of the Sphinx outside of the Pyramid of Giza, and we've devalued it in search of something universal. Be unique. I could go on for days about this one (and I have before). I'm even working on a piece about this issue. I might post it within the next week or so.

Don't worry, like I said, this list will grow with time. Women, I still love you.

Strength in Numbers

2008-02-18T16:46:00.002-06:00

There used to be strength in strength
Which meant it was strength in power
The man would take the animal,
And with his arms and intellect he devoured her
Command dominion over all the seas
Pluck most birds from every tree.
Cage them and clip their wings.
Prevent her from chirping the song she’d sing
Now, though, there’s strength in numbers
Which means there’s strength in money
And you have very little control,
If you’re a bee who happens to lack honey,
Funny, that’s not how it was meant to be,
But one day currency fell from a tree.
In the form of forbidden fruit,
You could take a bite, not even to the root
And it became your yearning,
In place of simply learning,
Life’s most relevant truths,
Most people just chase green leave...
Their families at a moment’s notice
Overwork themselves,
Just to fill a company’s quota.
Sellout their souls for dead presidents.
Losing control of what was forever meant.
It’s hard to find a mind in mint condition.
When we’ve reconditioned them to not matter.
Capitalism has splattered matters of conviction
As though it were cake batter.
And few seem to care so long as
As their pockets are getting fatter.
Wu Tang said it best, Cash rules,
but everyone around me seems like fools, gold,
because they forgotten the golden rule:
You can’t take it with you.
Your soul is the only thing that goes,
The rest just folds,
As though it were an offsuit 7-deuce.
Play that hand and you’re guaranteed to lose
More often than not.
So why is it that most don’t care
To read into that plot?
They play every hand
Because it gives them a chance
But they don’t understand
The real currency is whittling away
With little chance of another advance
On mental strength, our truth is beginning to decay
In the same way,
The Ice Age came
And froze some of our roots.
Except this time it’s our minds,
That seem to be missing the cue.

If You Are What They Say

2008-02-16T13:51:00.004-06:00

The MC inquisitively released the word as if he were curious to see who would step to the stage with no moniker, just a name.

"Damone," he said? "Is here a Damone in the house?"

And with that, I thrust myself into a spotlight. I almost didn't make it. As I got up from my seat, I almost tripped and busted my grill because I couldn't see a step in front of me.

But I made it to the stage intact. And the MC handed me the mic. I looked up into the stage lights and realized that I couldn't really see the crowd that well. There was about 150 or so people there. I warned them that I hadn't dropped any knowledge on a stage in what amounted to three-plus years, and to "bare with me."

Then I went into These Words: "I want these words to dutifully pirouette while encompassed about by a chorus of doubters which has only but a seed a hope within in it."

I finished that line and the co-host fell out of her on-stage chair, flabbergast. Her moment made me lose my train of thought, and I had to start over. It got the nerves out of me because I knew somebody would feel me.

It gave me a confidence, and I got through the entire poem. At the end, I got a standing ovation. The MC, he took the mic I had, and promptly told the crowd that "no one is to touch this mic for the rest of the night."

I was just relieved to finish it without and major screw ups. I told him I had another one for him (Buildings), and he let me bring down the house at the end of the open mic set.

This time, I went to the stage with confidence. I took the mic and just ripped it (it's easier to recite something that rhymes). I got another standing ovation. The MC jokingly told me he disliked me.

DMilly, who had been trying to get me out to this open-mic event for months, and I left after that poem. She gave me a big hug for doing it, and said "I told you," because she knew that I would be able to move the crowd.

I thanked her for forcing me out. We talked outside in the cold for a few minutes, and I couldn't feel it because of how good I felt.

I mean, once I got comfortable, I felt at home on the stage. All of my worries, my fears they escaped me, and I just vibed. It's honestly one of the best feelings I've ever experienced. I felt like the dude Lupe rhymes about in "Superstar."

And I can only say thank you to DMilly for forcing me my star to shine.

Happy Day After Hump Day

2008-02-14T17:06:00.005-06:00

If you remember last year's Valentine's Day post, I played the role of the typical male. you know, the one who totally forgot it was Valentine's Day, and had one of my good female friends telling me Happy Wednesday instead of Happy Valentine's Day.

Well, this year I made sure I didn't disappoint that friend, DMilly. I sent her an e-card from Hallmark with a special greeting from Tyler Perry (note: She loathes Tyler Perry). In the personal message I emphasized how it would be best if he told her "Happy Valentine's Day considering how much she loves him."

Then I said, I "Happy Day After Hump Day!" to continue th joke from a year ago. It's a good one, I think. I hope. I'll let you know what her response is - earlier in the day she couldn't open it because of work.

Anyway, I'm not doing anything special. Just another day. I might go out with a couple of friends late. If I do, I've told them all to expect to see me in my "middle finger you" t-shirt.

Oh yeah, if you're the praying type, send one up for your boy tonight. I'm expecting some big news tomorrow one way or the other (kinda like an American Idol contestant in front of the trio), AND I will be performing a few pieces of poetry at night.

I'm Nervous

2008-02-13T14:19:00.006-06:00

I'm reading at a poetry slam on Friday night for the first time in three years. The last time I did, I read decent pieces. But they were all over the place, hard for people to understand. They meant a lot to me, but didn't always connect with others.

As I listened to other readers that night, I felt inspired to dig deeper into my core and figure out what was missing in my prose and poetry. I listened to some of the best out there right now like Shihan perform live. I've found what was missing over the last year or so. It's life.

I spent too much of my time the last five years bottled up in the thought of a (bad relationship) situation, so much that it hampered my ability to write about anything else. Although I had thoughts and concerns with the world's happenings, I never thought or tried hard enough to put things into words.

Now, though, I think I've found what I always knew lurked inside.

But I must admit, I'm nervous as hell. I'm going to try to memorize the pieces I'm sharing (Buildings, These (My) Words and On Second Thought) before Friday so I can engage the crowd a bit more.

I used to be a great public speaker, which is why feeling the nerves two days early is weird for me. I did the morning announcements for two years in high school, won a state title in broadcast reporting in high school, interned at a TV station and co-hosted a debutante ball in front of more than 2,000 people.

But I haven't done much in front of a crowd in three years. Most of my audiences are like two people (a good friend and myself).

DMils, one of my good friends, has been trying to get me to read at the poetry reading for a couple of months now. And she's been persistent. I guess it's paying off. Now, I just hope I don't fumble over 50 percent of my words.

My Words

2008-02-12T00:03:00.002-06:00

I want my words to dutifully pirouette while encompassed about by a chorus of doubters which has only but a seed of hope within it.

I want my words to thoroughly invigorate the sound system that resides on the outside of your pupils understanding they’re the only way to truly reach your soul.

I want my words to resonate in the depths of man’s heart to where it skips a beat or three at the thought of freedom’s cost.

I want my words to teach a lesson that can’t be learned from a chalkboard, overhead or in Power Point presentation because life is our best classroom.

I want my words to breathe an air into your lungs so foreign that when you exhale you’re gasping for their breed of oxygenation.

I want my words to satiate the insatiable, infuriate the capable so they will learn some have been enabled by a source which contends their existence is for naught.

I want my words to stir you up like a stew brewing on a stove patiently waiting with little else to do aside from contemplate these truths:

Life is giving. Giving is love. Love is hard. Hard makes jealousy. Jealousy breeds hate. Hate is easy. Easy is fear. Fear is debilitating. Debilitating is death. Death is inevitable.

But like a rumor mill, inevitability doesn’t have to be your life’s plight.

Give what you know. Know what you have. Have what you mean. Mean what you sow.

Because sowing a seed of contempt is akin to knocking on death’s door before you’ve been called. So many reach to answer the phone and it hasn’t even rung. When it does though, for you, I hope the meaning of my words equate to your life’s sum.

I'm Cool Like That

2008-02-11T17:29:00.000-06:00

Kaduk, one of "The Good Guys," recently got a job writing a baseball blog for Yahoo! It's cool. But this is a great way to also show Kev's laissez-faire attitude toward the world.

In his introduction post, there's a comment from a reader that says "I'll cut you."

I tell Kaduk about this and his first response to me is: "Cool."

He hadn't seen it, but after he did, Kaduk told me he knew the guy who wrote that. Still, my first response to hearing someone say "I'll cut you" isn't "cool."

It's happened to me before. Believe me. I didn't say "cool." I avoided that person for a few years, although we're "cool" now.

Ah, well. Duk's a good writer, so if you like an interesting mix of baseball and life check out Big League Stew.

Interesting McCain Spoof

2008-02-11T16:28:00.000-06:00

And I Wonder ...

2008-02-10T14:06:00.000-06:00

A Level 3 Sex Offender in Connecticut just won $10 million in a lottery. This is a moment where you have to wonder if the Big Man Upstairs takes a day or two off every now and then.

I'm not questioning Him. I just can't make sense of it or justify it. I won't judge sex offender dude, but I think he should consider (read:be forced to) chucking up some of his newfound fortune to charities for victims of sexual crimes.

RACE = BLACK? Really?

2008-02-08T17:32:00.001-06:00

Because of the ignorance that's out there in the world, you get two posts today.

Yes, we have a chance to elect either the first woman or black man as president of our nation. Awesome. But we still have brain farts like this one.

This is a link to Time Magazine's 25 Most Important Films on Race. That is the title. Except there's a problem. These are all black films, and some of them have little if nothing to do with "race."

I knew something was direly wrong when I saw Madea's Family Chance-At-Embarrassing-Black-America-Yet-Again on the list followed by I Am Legend. The author of the list, Richard Corliss, or his editor, either doesn't quite understand the meaning of race or didn't bother to come up with a good headline.

RACE doesn't equal BLACK. I expected to see movies like Crash, Babel, A Raisin In the Sun, White Men Can't Jump and Jungle Fever on the list. These are movies that deal with race.

Now, as far as black movies and movies that have significant black characters are concerned, Corliss had a good variety. But I still can't understand how he could dare put some trash (although some people do find it entertaining) like Madea's Family ... on that list.

There are several other GOOD movies he could have chosen including: Love Jones, Waiting to Exhale, Dreamgirls and Ray. Hell, he could have even gone with American Gangster. But not Madea or anything else Tyler Perry has done those far in his career (although he is quite adept at stacking that cheese).

Richard Corliss, if I had your e-mail, I'd send you one right this minute. Don't worry, I'm looking for it as we speak.

Keg O' Soulmate: All Tapped Out

2008-02-08T15:57:00.000-06:00

I'm still on this SITC kick. An episode I watched last night questioned how many true loves you get in a life.

If you get zero, one or maybe, if you're lucky, two. It defined a true love as someone who forever altered who you were and the way you thought.

If it's that simple of a definition, I think I'm already at two. But I also subscribe to the theory that you should learn and grow in each relationship you venture into and out of in your life. The next should be better than the last. It should take you to new heights.

For me, the question is, am I tapped out? Is there little left in my keg o' love? There are days when I wonder because I have become fairly pessimistic toward the notion of flights of fancy. I know what real love is, and its definition is drastically different from what the majority people perceive it to be.

But with the bloom off the rose, does that mean I will never experience the whole "soulmate" feelingagain especially considering that I've ran through two previous ones?

Eh, I don't know. Frankly, I'm not sure I care about find a "soulmate" right now. I'm more concerned with getting my life on the track that isn't headed for another train and imminent disaster.

Plus, I'm not sure I want to play that game with anyone else (Pessimism currently oozing on my keyboard). I don't want to make believe love is more than what my life's motto says it is (Fear little. Love big. Give more. Expect less.).

I think all I want is someone, in due time, that shares similar interests and beliefs, someone I can hold a good conversation with consistently and is cool with letting me "do me" when I want to do me. That sounds bad. By "do me" I, of course, mean chill on my own so I can write and think.

I think that's all I want.

I don't want a person who thinks finishing my sentences is the end all, be all. Really, I like completing my own thoughts. And I definitely don't need someone telling me they love me and blowing bullshit ass kisses over the phone EVERY time I talk to her. To that, I simply say, get the FUCK outta here.

Anyway, I'm rambling. I started off saying I think I've reached that SITC limit of two soulmates, but I guess, the way I'm thinking these days, that isn't such a bad thing at all. Nope, it's actually quite grand.

Hybrid: I Think I'm AiBig

2008-02-07T14:24:00.000-06:00

With so much bad television on and a need for writing inspiration I recently decided to go back in my stash and watch a few seasons of Sex in the City starting with season 4.

I'm almost done with the season, and it's got me thinking about something. If I were a character, which one would I be: Aiden or Big? Which one is more of who I am?

Per my "situation" (note: the situation no longer exists at all. A beautiful thing if I must say) with Triple B, I thought I was more Big. You know, sliding in and out of the relationship at random times with the lurking thought that there was always something more than the simplicities of a needed animal-like sexual encounter.

Though we never were together I always felt some hope for what existed. But then, after a few years of playing John Legend Track No. 8s, I kinda got over it. And now, I'm reevaluating this view of myself. Am I more Aiden or Big? I'm stuck.

And it's left me stuck. I desire commitment, if it's the right woman, like Aiden. Then again, I like to keep it clean with the perfect necktie and Kenneth Coles on my feet ala Big. I love staying home on a Friday or Saturday night to watch old movies and eat takeout. But I also don't mind stepping out and on the scene for a night or weekend. I'm not a fan of people who cheat or engage in affairs, but I've been the other man a few times.

See, I'm stuck.

I think I'm AiBig. And maybe that's not a bad thing.

I don't have a problem pegging most of my female friends as a character on either Sex or Girlfriends. But there are some who are Hyrbids, a mix of Carrie and Charlotte or Toni and Joan (That's crazy as hell I know. That girl spend most of her days fighting herself).

But Hybrids are the new "It" thing right? So I'm cool. If you were a Hybrid of two characters, even from two different shows, who would you be? Explain.

Chrisette croons on Girlfriends

2008-02-06T01:15:00.000-06:00

Chrisette Michele on Girlfriends
Uploaded by SoulBounce

In the next Girlfriends' episode, Chrisette Michele, one of my favorite artists, drops by and gives Lynn a little songbird lesson. I'm coming back later. Still watching election campaign footage and watching to see if Barack can close the gap somewhat in California.

He got Missouri, Kansas (my states) and many others. Missouri is key because the Show-Me State has picked the president in a primary, republican or democrat, in every election but one since 1900.

Obama's ahead in Cali (From Exit Polls)

2008-02-05T15:29:00.000-06:00

I'm going to caucus in about two hours. It will be my first time caucusing. Should be an interesting trip back to middle school.

Anyway, there's good news out there today. Obama is obliterating Hillary in California. UPDATE: These results came from Exit POLLS .... Hillary has won California)And I want this to be known now. I don't dislike Hillary or Bill Clinton. I just clearly believe that Obama's voice can unify this entire nation, republican and democrat, because he does play the political games the majority of polticians play.

It's just right or wrong, yes or no, light or dark.

That's it for the moment. I'll be back later with a caucus story or two.

Deja View: We Still Look Alike

2008-02-04T21:40:00.000-06:00

The Super Bowl didn't start for another hour or so. So chili, small talk and beer were there to fill the stomachs, minds and time until the game started.

My boy Youngin and I we were just playing catch up in the kitchen talking about God knows what (poker, sports, poker and more sports probably) when it happened. What's it? Well it refers to one of the classic examples of blind racial insensitivity.

One of my old superiors from my old gig entered the house party, and came to the kitchen. She made her rounds to say hello to everyone. She got around to Youngin and I.

"Happy birthday to you," she said while sort of looking me in the eye.

Mind you, my birthday is in middle of August's sweltering heat. It confused me. This woman knows who I am. I worked under her for three years. So I started thinking (quickly of course). Was this some sort of weird icebreaker you use when you haven't seen somebody in a year? No. What could it be? I didn't know, so I just replied almost immediately.

"Well, thanks, but my birthday was six months ago or so," I said.

"I thought your birthday was last week or the wee before," she said.

I shook my head no, and looked at Youngin. He had this grin on his face, and I couldn't figure out why. And I, oblivious to what had really happened in the moment gave my birthday a marker.

"No, it's in August," I said. "I had a big party. Youngin was there."

Youngin still had this smile on his face, and he nodded in agreement. I couldn't quite figure it out. I can't tell you what happened to the dialogue there with my old boss. I just know she walked away almost immediately.

About 15 minutes later, after letting the issue sit for a second in my mind, I finally figured it out. The Last King's birthday was just a few days ago. The Last King is a young black male who holds a similar job that I once held. She had totally confused me for him.

I immediately asked Youngin, "so that's what you were smiling about?"

He and I got a great laugh out of it in the moment more so because it was the second time that same sort of thing has happened between The Last King and I.

The sad part about it is that we look nothing alike. Nothing. To prove my point, around halftime, he and I had a grand conversation about the difference in our hair textures.

He shaves his head bald because his hair does little for him. I, on the other hand, am part-De Barge, and my hair is long and curly. That alone is enough, but to keep it going, we have different head shapes, different voices, different clothing styles.

It makes no sense for anyone to confuse he for I or I for him. None. I originally laughed it off because it's one of those things. We all know there's a healthy percentage of white people who think all black people look alike.

We all know it's not true. What is true is that not enough people, white or black, focus on people of the opposite race, and this sort of thing happens. It happens every day.

It happened to me at least once a week in college. It's a part of life. But as the Last King said, "it's a little different when your boss does it."

I can't disagree.

Manning Up, Brady Down

2008-02-04T00:52:00.000-06:00

I was wrong. Eli played like a champion, and now is a champion. I should have stuck with him. I told two of my good friends I thought the Giants would make it to the Super Bowl before they played Tampa Bay in the first round.

That meant New York would have to win at Tampa, Dallas and Green Bay. They laughed at me. In the end I got to laugh at them, but I shoulda rode it out, this Eli Manning thing.

This is the thing though. In that last drive, Eli threw three passes that were possible interceptions/bad throws. Then the escape and pass to David Tyree. At that point, it was destiny. The Giants would win.

I was telling my boy Greeney that it was maybe the second best finish to a Super Bowl I've seen, with the first Giants-Bills Super Bowl (think: wide right) topping the list and St. Louis-Tennessee coming in third (think: one more yard).

What's your favorite Super Bowl? Did this one top the list?
P.S. I have a great story from the party I attended that I'll save for the afternoon.

Super Prediction: Perfection

2008-02-03T14:13:00.000-06:00

No suspense here.
My Super Bowl prediction:Patriots 31, Giants 17.
The Game's MVP: Thomas Brady.
Eli's interception total: 2.
My confidence percentage: 92%.

Why? Because, unfortunately, they're just that good. That's why.

A2: The Black Soul

2008-02-02T23:02:00.000-06:00

So back to the answers for my top three problems facing Black America that have little to do with exterior circumstances. That was a mouthful. I started with The Black Family, now we're on to The Black Soul.

2. The Black Soul.

"In God we trust."

That's what it says on the dollar bill. Remember Wu Tang's Cash Rules Everything Around Me joint?

Makes you wonder why God and Money are so close in our country. They shouldn't be. It's maybe the one flaw within a capitalistic society. Okay, there are more flaws, but I'm not going there.

But we have been conditioned to believe money is the end all, be all. When really, we need to open our bibles: "Love of money is the root of all evil," it reads.

We blacks have fallen hard for it, maybe more so than any other race. The problem: we've barter it with our souls.

We are quick to sell our souls, our dreams. The black man in this country comes from limiting circumstances, and has been taught that the American Dream is about money. You get as much of it as you can, however you can.

Hooping. Rapping. Singing. Drug dealing. These are the avenues our people have traveled and deemed the most prosperous. For whatever the reason. One of our wealthiest black men has literally built the majority of his empire on the degradation of black culture. Two others with prominent voices the world would listen to, will not speak up on any social issue (Tiger Woods and Mike Jordan).

Two of our "moral" leaders tend to crusade when dollar signs and opportunity align themselves along the same plain.

To right this wrong, we must do a few things.

A) We must instill the importance of education early and often. Our children need to know there are opportunities abound if they aspire to chase their dreams. Not just doctors and lawyers, but accountants, nurses, psychologists, teachers, authors, journalists, screenwriters ... these are all worthwhile professions where we need black people who don't value money more than their soul. Black people need to know they can do more than play ball or "slang rock" to improve their quality of life.

This connects to the first problem: the family. We need to raise a generation of children who are built of solid moral character: God, family, education, job, money. In that order of importance.

A man loses control of his soul when he puts money ahead of everything else in his life. It's the truth. We need to value what's truly important or else ...

B) We must find a true leader whose mission is to enhance the experience and education of the black man on social, political and moral grounds. This leader must have a voice that all races, classes, ages and both sexes in America acknowledge. I wish it were Woods or Jordan, but that doesn't make them more money. We need someone who is content with what he has, someon e who doesn't care about money so much that he or she would commit suicide the next day if they were broke. Maybe it's Barack Obama (he won't take money from PACs and lobbyists) on some level, although he could have an entire government to run.

If we don't get these two things soon, we'll go in the other direction. If you don't know which way that is, just look ahead. It's the same road we've been traveling.

It's deeper than this, but I want to keep it simple here.

To prep for the final answer, Black on black hate, here's a quote from Dr. King:

"Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man's sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true."

Yes, We Can ...

2008-02-02T14:50:00.000-06:00

I'll admit, it almost sounds like Sherman Klump: "YES I CAN." Still, let's Barack the vote on Tuesday!

Ask Men's Top 99

2008-02-01T10:31:00.000-06:00

Ask Men recently came up with its 2008 list of the Top 99 Women, and of course, I went through and plucked out my favs. Here they are in order of appearance.

I disagree with where they are, of course, because these are my favs. So you also get an MPR (My Personal Ranking) from this list. Also, a few names that should be on here: Vanessa Simmons, Jurnee Smollet, Lauren London, Sharon Leal, Jill Marie Jones, Keesha Sharp, Thandie Newton, and Chrisette Michele. Those are off the dome. Yes, they're all black, but this list needs some more color.

Here's are my favs from the list. There are pics and links to each one's profile:

98. Kerry Washington.
For: I can't think of one reason not to have Kerry in the top ten. She's one of maybe five women in Hollywood I would want to mother my first born.
Against: I can't say anything bad, aside from I hope she doesn't shun my phone calls when I blow up.
My Personal Rating (MPR): 1.

77. Rashida Jones.
For: She's Quincy's daughter.
Against: I know little else about her.
(MPR): 15.

63. Anne Hathaway.
For: Should be considerably higher. Her eyes are majestic, and she is a brilliant actress.
Against: She's a little dorky, but you've gotta love a cute dork.
(MPR): 5.

62. Cassie.
For: For her one hit song.
Against: I can't remember the lyrics, only that catchy beat.
(MPR): 14.

39. Keira Knightley.
For: She apparently did her thing in Atonement, which I have yet to see.
Against: I haven't seen Atonement.
(MPR): 10.

35. Angelina Jolie.
For: She's Angelina Jolie.
Against: She with Brad.
(MPR): 8.

30. Alicia Keys.
For: I've been fawning over her and her music since the 20th century.
Against: she keeps trying to do that Bob Marley thing and I want her to stop.
(MPR): 4.

28. Kim Kardashian.
For: Have you seen her body? Have you seen her body in the homemade porn with Ray J?
Against: Have you seen her body in the homemade porn with Ray J?
(MPR): 6.

26. Penelope Cruz.
For: Her voice is amazing.
Against: She dated Tom Cruise for a while. There's no telling what's going on in her head.
(MPR): 7.

16. Gisele Bundchen.
For: Any woman with Tom Brady deserves to be on this list.
Against: Because I can't spell her last name without looking. But I'm not against her or Tom come Sunday.
(MPR): 9.

15. Natalie Portman.
For: Closer is still one of my fav films. There's something unique about her.
Against: She's almost too perfect.
(MPR): 13.

8. Rihanna.
For: She's grown on me. I've fallen for her style. I'm not a huge fan of her music/voice.
Against: People with this type of style scare/attract me. Note how scare came first. She's a whore of the blogs I frequent.
(MPR): 12.

6. Scarlett Johansson.
For: There's nothing wrong I can say about her. She's simply beautiful. She'd be in my top five white women, and in my top 10 women period.
Against: Word has it she's in the Derek Jeter chain.
(MPR): 3.

5. Jessica Alba.
For: See Scarlett.
Against: See Scarlett.
(MPR): 11.

4. Eva Mendes.
For: Her face is pure. She's good in romantic comedies, and reason I've seen Hitch five times.
Against: No answer.
(MPR): 2.

Ask Men's No. 1 was Katherine Heigl. She's cool and she's doing her thing right now with that 27 Dress flick. But probably wouldn't come near my top 20.

This is My Confession

2008-01-31T15:47:00.000-06:00

I have an admission. It's something that in some circles might get me shot. In others, I might be looked as or presumed to be certifiably gay (which I'm not, though I have nothing against homosexual people).

My name is Vic Damone, Jr. and I'm a quasi-female television addict. About 40 percent of my television consumption consists of things no man would ever watch a full episode of even with a gun to his head.

I've watched a full season or two of Top Model. I loved the Golden Girls (though I refuse to watch re-runs). I'm intrigued by Project Runway (because I have a ton of female friends who watch it), though I haven't seen but like five minutes of it. I watch The Tyra Banks Show, Oprah and The View if I get the chance.

If you're wondering why, it's because I'm curious to see what females are thinking. If I could have one superpower, it would be that of Mel Gibson's character Nick in What Women Want (one of my favorite movies). I pick up Essence and Cosmo to try and learn as much about women.

If women are from Venus, television, magazines and my females friends are my satellites that's I've launched into orbit to study that planet.

More than anything, I'm addicted to The Game and Girlfriends and Sex and the City re-runs. I'm willing to admit this. The shows Mara Brock Akil and her writers have created are thought-provoking, witty and funny takes on the mid-to-upper class black life.

Writing the way they do is what I aspire to do with my life, thoughts and words. And I feel like I learn something about women and about writing with every word I hear on either of these shows.

So yes. I admit it. I've watched every episode of the first two seasons of The Game twice, at least. I've seen most of the episodes of Girlfriends, and will purchase every season on DVD once the prices come down.

And I'm overly excited for the return of the shows on Sunday night (although I hate that they're competing with the SuperBowl).

Whew! The secret is out. And I'm happy about it.

P.S. For discretion's sake: I'm a die-hard football junkie. I live and breathe baseball. I die during the Boondocks and Everybody Hates Chris. I still watch SportsCenter repeats. And CSI has kept me from even thinking about doing some really dumb things in life.

Revisiting the Resolutions

2008-01-31T14:19:00.000-06:00

I've gotta get away from politics again. Sorry. I'll get back at the self-made black problem answers tomorrow. Today, though, let's go somewhere else.

Let's look back at my New Year's Resolutions. I figure that since I blogged about them, the best way to keep them up is check on them at the end of each month. So, that's what I'm gonna do.

1. Find a new job. I'm currently waiting on a second interview for a good-paying gig that I know I'll enjoy. When (If) I get it, you'll be the first to know, aside from the Moms. Oh, I also got the applications that I've been working on for over a month done finally. Yes, I job application one actually must put some thought into, walk away from and then come back. Imagine that. I hope I get an interview for the position.

2. Be a better friend to my good friends. I've talked to most of them. Reconnect with about four that I hadn't talked to in a few months. Went out to dinner with a few.

3. Get to 199. still got about 20 lbs to go. I've gotta start working out consistently.

4. Write three poems a week. I'm gonna scale this back to two. This one is hard because I have to have inspiration to go there, and be in front of computer (my memory sucks).

5. Finish, perfect, then actively shop my screenplay. So this is a work in progress. But I came up with the PERFECT re-scripted ending. It's floating in my mind, I just have to put it on that wax. Also, I need to refine a few scenes and then edit the entire thing. Then I can start shopping it.

6. Completely remove the word Nigga from my vocab, and get off the sailboat. Umm, I've censored myself about 90 percent of the time, which is good for me. I'm weening myself off as though these negative words were squares. Slowly but surely.

7. Read a book a month. I'm about to finish Souled Out. It's an interesting read. Not as good as I would have liked though. Not solution-oriented for the problems it presents. But it's definitely thought provoking.

8. Less TV. It's off now. But I wonder what's gonna happen when the good television starts back up? (Girlfriends and The Game, specifically).

That's one month, and I guess I'm doing okay. The top three are the most important right now, and I'm making some progress.

Interlude: A Wait for Change

2008-01-30T19:14:00.000-06:00

Ed's Note: A quick break from the previously scheduled series for this special announcement.

Obamanation 2008 Hits Kansas City

Each turn led us in the opposite direction of the Barack Obama rally site, and toward some other winding turn. Some of these halls, I didn’t even know they existed. We probably walked half a mile underneath downtown Kansas City while moving at a centimeter-a-minute pace.

Photo borrowed from a great photog named Jamie Cox, who apparently got a little closer to Barack than I did.

But on this night, we resolved to walk through those halls underneath Municipal Auditorium inch by inch in an organized manner and through security to hear the man who has the audacity to hope in person.

I can’t tell you how many people (somewhere in the thousands) I followed in line just to get to see Barack Obama. I can’t tell you how many people made it in after me. What I do know is that it was worth the two-hour-plus wait.

See, this country has been waiting - patiently and impatiently - for about 40 years, waiting to hear a voice that moved our American people the way John F. Kennedy did. Waiting to hear a voice that dared us to dream the way Martin Luther King, Jr. did. Waiting to hear a voice that carried us through doubtful times the way RFK was forced to do.

I heard that voice on Tuesday night in Kansas City. I saw a people – mixed with white, brown and black faces, young, younger and old bones, women and men – who earnestly believed the words coming from that voice. The voice, of course, belonged to Barack Obama.

He grazed over all of the important issues – from healthcare to ill-equipped inner-city schools systems to social security to the war in Iraq. He borrowed a phrase from Dr. King, saying he was running because of what Dr. King called “the fierce urgency of now,” concerning these issues. He discussed what he plans to do to right the wrongs of the last seven years and the ignorance that is Washington.

"We are at a defining moment in our history," Obama said. "Our nation is at war. Our planet is in peril and the dream that so many generations fought for feels like it's slowly slipping away.

"We cannot wait to fix our schools. We cannot wait to fix a broke health care system. We cannot wait to bring an end to global warming. We cannot wait to bring this war in Iraq to a close."

And while that mean plenty, hearing him say these things in person seemed to matter little. Obama’s greatest strength lies in his ability to make you believe. You could see the sincerity in his eyes. You could hear the truth in his words. You could feel his ability to make light of important matters while still speaking candidly.

He joked about being distant cousins with Dick Cheney, and how he was thankful that, even though they're kin, Cheney’s name wouldn’t be on the ballot on Super Tuesday. Same with George Bush. Obama heard the random shouts of impatient listeners, and responded on cue. He recited the Pledge of Allegiance in response to people who claim that he doesn’t even know it.

And, of course, he spoke about change, the focal point of his campaign. He spoke so much about change that I kidded with a fellow supporter that Obama should make Michael Jackson’s “Man in the Mirror” song his campaign anthem.

But it made sense (Think: “I’m starting with the man in the mirror…” and "...make that change"). Obama declared that change is not about him, that it’s not about a top-down mentality. Rather, he said each person must decide he or she has the audacity to hope, and take those hopes to the next level. Then work toward achieving the dreams and goals of this nation.

“Change in America never happens from the top down,” Obama said. “It happens from the bottom up. It happens because ordinary people decide to do extraordinary things. It happens because we’re a decent and generous people willing to work hard and sacrifice for future generations.”

It’s the kind of hope the majority of us who trudged along in line at a snail’s pace for a few hours had just to hear him speak. It’s the kind of hope this nation needs to have embedded in its leader. Most important, it’s the kind of hope we need for tomorrow.

I don’t hate or even dislike Hillary Clinton. I don’t even loathe or seriously dislike John McCain. If you choose either of them, it’s your right and more power to you. I won't think ill of you. But I can tell you this much, on Tuesday night in Kansas City, I heard the voice of a man who gives us the best chance for positive change in America, and his name is Barack Obama.

And I can’t even complain about the super long wait and slow winding walk, because it was worth it every minute.

One of my new favs

2008-01-29T15:23:00.000-06:00

Mario - Do Right [NEW]
Uploaded by PeteRock

still ... read the post below.

A1: The Black Family

2008-01-29T13:09:00.000-06:00

To be honest, I can't quite say I know exactly how to absolve Black America of its greatest problems. On a grand scale, that's damn near impossible.

No one man has the ability to move our people, and rarely, if ever, has he. In the 50s and 60s there was Martin Luther King. But there was also Malcolm X and Muhammad Ali, who subscribed to different beliefs about how to correct the ills of society. They had unique followings.

Now we have new "leaders," and I put that in parenthesis for a reason. Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson are about the closest thing to leaders that we've had in some time. They both have their flaws - the main one being their desire to align themselves with causes that permit them to line their pockets.

Some (including Toni Morrison) once heralded Bill Clinton a champion for the black man. Clinton finds himself fighting for his wife against Barack Obama for the Democratic presidential nomination. And Obama, and yes, I hope he wins the race. But say he does win, will Obama have enough power, as president of these United States, to bring about positive change concerning the issues I listed in my last post?

I doubt it.

Yet in still, here are the ideas I have for each of the problems I briefly discussed yesterday. If you don't know I believe one of our biggest issues is that we just lament our issues, and don't come up with ideas for solutions. Here's No. 1.

1. The Black Family. How do we, as a people, turn right the negative ills that have befallen the black family? I think the first step is to stop putting ourselves in positions where a family is broken before it's formed. Stop having children out of wedlock.

The marital bond was put in place for good reason. And the numbers show that the children who are born in stable, two-parent homes are more apt to succeed in school and life versus children born out of wedlock. This by no means says you can't raise a successful child as a single parent. It just says that the odds are against you.

On another front, our males must, and I mean must, be men instead of grown children. Be there for your seeds. They need you. Work with your child's mother for the child's best interests. Monitor what your children get involved in at a young age. On Friday I met a seven-year-old (white) kid who has a Facebook account. This should not happen. Be better parents and adults.

On another level, a lot of our families have been built on the traditions established by grandparents. They defined stability for most of us. Family gatherings, holidays and even birthdays centered around the grandparents. As some of them have passed, families' structures have fallen apart because there's no one there to continue the traditions we grew up with. Someone needs to step up, and continue to instill these necessary values in our children and give them that invaluable bonding time so they see the importance of family, so they know their family.

This isn't something that can be done on a universal level. It's a man by man, family by family situation that must be met head on by each family. No one man can say, "black families be better" or enact a law that forces people to do right in this situation. We have to desire to do right by our kinfolk, then do it.

Okay, I'm going to do this day by day. Tomorrow will be solution No. 2: The Black Soul.

Back to Black

2008-01-28T13:50:00.000-06:00

So, we're back here again. Contemplating the issues in Black America. Wondering how we right what's wrong. But this time there's a twist. In the conversation I had with Wildcat-Squared last night, I told her while name her three biggest problems in Black America, she had to name problems of blacks created by blacks that can be fixed by blacks, i.e. no other races are allowed in the discussion.

I've been on this kick about not blame other races and the establishment for things we can control/fix. I'm subscribing to this new thought: "People who overemphasize the victim mentality don't dream. They live nightmares."

It's a line I came up with while considering a lot of things: King's I Have A Dream speech, A Raisin in the Sun and A Dream Deferred to be specific.

Here are the problems I came up with. In the next post, I'll give my solutions to each of the problems. Here goes:

1. The Black Family. I can take this a million directions. The rise of teen pregnancy, the crack epidemic, children born out of wedlock, the lack of positive examples, high divorce rates. Take your pick. All have had their effect on Black America. But now more than ever we're seeing the results of about 30 years of worsening conditions. Kids don't respect their elders because they don't know them. We used to be raised in communities where the neighbor could whoop that ass if you stepped out of line, and none of that exists now. The Huxtables are a myth, and the black family damn near no longer exists.

2. The Black Soul. I'm just finishing Souled Out? by Shaun Powell of the Newsday. It's an interesting read about how blacks in sports have lost what's most important - their souls. Now I'm going to take it a step further. Black society has souled out almost as a whole. Everything is about cars, cash and jewelry. From our black celebrities to the common man, everyone is looking to flash a little too much, and find the next dollar to flash a little more. All the while, few are tending to their souls. Few value the importance of making the right decisions over the $ight decisions. We have to get back to what's important at all levels - from the common man to the Russell Simmons of the world.

3. Black on Black Hate. Sean Taylor. Antione Walker. Darrent Williams. Jamaal Tinsley. Need I say more? Why do we not appreciate the gains of another black man, and applaud them? Why must we try to bring him down. It used to be that people would talk bad about the black man with the college degree. Now, not only do they talk bad about him, they rob him. They seek out the rich black athletes and rob them. This may be the most complex of the issues because it deals with the other two I've listed.

So those are the self-created problems I think are slowing progress within Black America. Wildcat-Squared only differed with one problem. She added the idea of how blacks tend to mishandle money. It's an important issue. I think it weaves itself in with my second problem sorta. But then again, money is a major part of that one. Anyway, those are the issues. I'll come at you tomorrow with my solutions.

Then I probably going to come with three problems created/manufactured by the establishment.

Out.

Vic Damone and the Old White Man

2008-01-23T15:48:00.000-06:00

Before I jump into a story, I have a thought.

I know that most of the free world is wondering "Why Heath Ledger? Why not Britney?"

I have the simple answer. Did you see the over done coverage of Ledger on television yesterday? Now imagine if Britney overdosed. Barack, Hillary and McCain wouldn't be seen on the tube for weeks.
----------

I got up to go back to the HyVee salad bar for seconds. That salad bar is my favorite lunch spot. Just $5 for all you might possibly want in a salad and fruit, and then some.

Anyway, that's neither here nor there. So I get up to head back to the bar for some fruit, and this elderly white man speaks to me before I can take a step. He had to be at least 80 or so.

"Hello," he says.

I respond by asking him how he's doing. I told him I'd be right back, that I was just going to get some water. And that's what I did, skip the fruit. I was curious as to where our talk might go.

So I came right back, and what followed was one of the more intriguing conversations I've ever engaged in as an adult.

You see, I had my computer out so I could finish a few things up. He questioned why I had the computer, and said "I couldn't work any of that stuff no matter how hard I tried."

"If you gave me the time time I could teach you," I said.

My cell phone start chirping. It was a text message about a business meeting I had scheduled.

"And those things, what ever happened to just talking to people, like we're doing here," he question? "I guess our generation are just supposed to be different."

"That they are. "

"In my day, it was all about face to face communication. You talked to people, like we're doing."

"I still subscribed to that."

"But most people don't. What went wrong?"

Of course I had an answer.

"I think people go to college and understand that they're in a progressive environment, and they could talk to anyone. I know that's how I felt. I probably met 100 people my first two days at school. But when you leave that environment and head to back to the real world, you realize it's not as inviting. People close up. They're guarded."

"I can see that," he said. "But I just don't see how people just don't talk to each other. It's not hard."

It's certainly not.

Ed's Note: Part two of the conversation comes tomorrow.

The Truth About ...

2008-01-15T22:28:00.000-06:00

... Love.

To respond to a statement I heard long ago, the idea of love is perfect. The definition of love we're are given makes perfect sense.

But we humans, we’re far from it. We screw the definition up. We’re not perfected in love because we fear. We fear making mistakes (which makes us make them). We fear each other. We fear harm. We fear death. Trepidation fails us in our quest to realize the only true answer to a perfected love.

In love you cannot fear and you cannot regret. You give without reciprocation. You stay still in moments of despair and in rough waters.

The definition is flawless, if you choose to understand/translate it (see 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13 and 1 John, Chapter 4 - really all of 1 John). Choosing to live the definition is the problem.

We live in a world full of temptation and sin, and we succumb with regularity. Per our choices, we choose to love in the wrong way. We love money (the root of all evil), the wrong people, jobs, cars, clothes, hair. There are countless others.

We choose these circumstances, thus choosing to love the wrong things. The key here: love is a choice. It's something we do, not necessarily something we feel. Love is an action, thus how we reference someone's love for us, through what they do for us. Not what they say, feel or think. What they do. What we do.

Do we make the wrong decisions? Yes. Do we spiral in the wrong direction at times because of those decisions? For sure. But the opportunity to make the right choice, to step into the light is always there.

This is something I'm just realizing for myself on a certain level.

See, love will test you, but it will not pull you apart by your heartstrings. Our wrong decisions do that, especially when we know right from wrong. It's like playing Russian Roulette with a loaded gun, you always lose.

At least that's what I've learned. That's at least my truth.

The 8-track skips ...

2008-01-13T14:20:00.000-06:00

Upon further review, we are a generation of John Legend track No. 8s., and we love replaying first down.

We're a people made ordinary by our relative relationship problems, issues and situations we allow into our lives over and over again.

Remember when your parents told you to never make the same mistake twice? That whole "same on you, shame on me" cliché. It seems very few of us were listening.

See, I've conversed with four friends in the last week who have either rekindled or revisited past relationships. Another good friend uploaded pics to the Internet of he and an old flame in recent days. Finally, an old friend I know longer talk to blogged about a sociopath/ex of hers, and how she's allowed him back in.

The fact that I even read her blog attests to this theorized problem. I also added my first ex-girlfriend as a friend on MySpace a day ago.

Why are we like this? Why do we not give up on people we shouldn't associate with on any level? Why do we give second and third chances? Why don't we move on? Does the globalization of our world have that profound of an affect on the way we operate?

I don't know.

I draw parallels between the child- and adulthood. The way our parents treated us, the fact correlation to growing up in a one-parent home and having abandonment/approval issues. I know I have them to a degree, and they have played some role in my relationships/friendships to this point.

But that can't be the answer for the majority of the people out there or can it?

Yet it seems we never learn. It seems we just keep allowing the song of our life to skip without ever cleaning the compact disc. It seems as though we all make failing decisions no matter that we know right from wrong.

We all want what we want, even when it's obvious it's not for us. And until we differentiate want from need, passion from infatuation, we'll continue to be John Legend Track No. 8s: 'Ordinary People" repeating the same shit over and over "Again."

30 I wouldn't trade ...

2008-01-10T18:09:00.000-06:00

Somebody posted a MySpace bulletin a few days back, and challenged us to come up with our 30 favorite songs. While I couldn't quite do that, here are the 30 songs I love that came to my head first. Your thoughts?

1. Anthony Hamilton 's Clearly
2. Nancy Wilson's Guess Who I Saw Today
3. The Gap Band's Yearning for Your Love
4. India.Arie's Complicated Melody
5. Musiq Soulchild's Love
6. Stevie Wonder's Visions
7. The Notorius B.I.G.'s One More Chance Remix
8. Dwele's Old Lovas
9. Glenn Lewis' This Love
10. John Coltrane's Central Park West
11. Mike Phillips' Wonderful and Special
12. Joe's All That I Am
13. Brian McKnight's I Remember You
14. Eric Roberson's Just A Dream
15. Jill Scott's Slowly Surely
16. Janet Jackson's Anytime, Anyplace
17. Maxwell's Sumthin, Sumthin Mellosmoothe Mix
18. Bel Biv Devoe's Poison
19. Kanye West's Last Call
20. Dead Prez's Hip Hop
21. Eric Benet's That's Just My Way
22. Jay-Z's Song Cry
23. Luther Vandross' Love Won't Let Me Wait
24. Babyface's For The Cool In You
25. Tony Toni Tone's Lay Your Head On My Pillow
26. Mint Condition's U Send Me Swinging
27. Hi-Five's Unconditional Love
28. 50 Cent's Patiently Waiting
29. Common's Black Maybe
30. John Legend's Again

My Resolutions.

2008-01-08T12:45:00.000-06:00

So here are my New Year's Resolutions for myself.

1. Find a new job. I want a job that allows me to bleed the creativity that's trapped within my mind. That's it. I don't like averaging 5.2 cube monkey moments a week. To me, there's more to life.

2. Be a better friend to my good friends. Through some of my struggles I've neglected some of my best friendships for a variety of reasons. I know I need to be better about this and I will be.

3. Get to 199. The last time I was under 2 bills was 1998. I want to get on the scale, and be at 195 by May, and it's feasible. I'm somewhere between 223 and 230 consistently, so I can do it. One-Ninety-Nine is more about me promoting an healthy lifestyle for myself as much as it is for aesthetics.

4. Write at least three poems a week. I have the ability to do so amazing things with words, and I need to push these things out of me, and on to paper/word docs. If I can I could have an astounding book of poetry by year's end.

5. Finish, perfect, then actively shop my screenplay. I have a draft of it that I'm tweaking, and it's good. Not as good as it will be by the end of February. But I have a feeling that someone will want it.

6. Completely remove the word Nigga from my vocab, and get off the sailboat. I don't use it much, but I can overuse the N-word in certain situations. I also want to ween myself off of cursing. When I have children I want to have it totally under control. Starting now isn't a bad thing.

7. Read a book a month. It's feasible, and there's great literature out there. I've already downed Forty Million Dollar Slaves by William C. Rhoden. I'm on to Souled Out by Shaun Powell. Michael Strahan's book is next after that. Then I'm going to read Barack Obama's book. Who knows what's up after that.

8. Less TV. The only things I need to watch on television are live sporting events, The Game, Girlfriends, CSI, Everybody Hates Chris and the Boondocks. The rest of it, not so much. And this allows for me to do all of the other things I want to do.

The Sound

2008-01-04T22:34:00.000-06:00

I know. I've been ghost.

But know I'm returning to the www, and the real world. Sorry for my abscence. Here's a little something I wrote this week ...

The Sound

This may or may not sound true,
but if you compound the sound
and what you don’t see
with what it is you believe,
you will begin to achieve
on a level you never conceived.

See, your mind is prime real estate
that will depreciate
if you don’t appreciate its true value.
Your soul is controlled
by something you couldn’t fathom
in a far-fetched dream.
And your body is a temple
Jesus himself worshiped in
with sin slithering around
his most trusted friends.

Confident men are blindly omniscient
with 20/20 foresight.
Now, in hindsight,
I wish my mother had
gouged out my pupils at birth
so I wouldn’t have been cursed
with the vision to see my destiny.
I would have rather been lost
in the pit of wilderness
with wolves dressed like sheep,
and sheep sheared to clothe fools,
handed worn-down tools
to construct my castle
and had it blown away with the wind,
so I could find the will to build it again
without questioning “why me?”
and then I’d come to understand
what I was born to see.

See, most of us dream big, and fall short.
But I want to dream bigger,
and fall in cherished beliefs of what will be
instead of being handed a silver spoon.
Let me eat with my hands, bathe with them too.
Believe without seeing, find faith in what His works can do.
Break me down, so I can be found,
Then make me whole, mind body and soul
Guide me out of the dark forest,
gleefully singing the chorus
of a song that rings true,
a sound found deep within a one’s core
few come to hear it,
Verbs and nouns others choose to ignore.
But not I, I comprehend that which suspends time
Is nothing you could ever see.
It’s something you hear in your heart,
something you choose to believe.

Mizzou's Juicy

2007-11-29T15:19:00.001-06:00

Getting ready for the big game last Saturday, we were listening to that good hip hop. That Eric B. & Rakim type music that seems to be over most cats heads nowadays.

Then came a track from my favorite rap artist from that era, Biggie Smalls bka The Notorious B.I.G.

"Fuck all you hoes get a grip."

It was "Juicy," the ultimate hip hop tale of coming from nothing to something. I started thinking then, and in my head came this anthem for Mizzou's turnaround season. This was it.

In the vein of Chicago's SuperBowl Shuffle, I've written to lyrics to "Mizzou Juicy." I promise you that if we beat Oklahoma on Saturday, I will record it on Sunday, and throw it on YouTube, Facebook and MySpace.

Here's are a few samples of the lyrics:

This song is dedicated to all the media who said Mizzou would never amount to nothing. To all the proponents of the Colorado and the Fifth Down, UCLA and Tyus Edney and Nebraska and the Flea Kicker. It’s all good, baby, baby.
...

We made the change from common grief/ to GameDay with Corso and Herbstreit
....

PS3, Nintendo Wii/ When we was 8-5 y'all couldn't even see/No. 1 team

....

Just wait. If we win, it's gonna get crazy.

A Taste of the Rainbow

2007-11-28T18:29:00.000-06:00

Belizeanchica sent me an IM this evening that struck a chord.

She explained her day to me, like always. But then she started telling me about something Work Dude said today.

Apparently, Work Dude (understand that we give everyone who is insignificant a pseudonym, i.e., Big Dude, That Bitch, Don't Answer, Married Man, That Ho, Eggs, New York Guy, Fatty Girl. Not to say any or some of these people exist. They are examples) said something quite gay to her today.

By gay, I do mean something that could make Work Dude come across as homosexual. No offense to gay homosexual people anywhere. This is about something an allegedly straight man said that might make you think otherwise of his sexual preference. That's all.

He says to her (paraphrasing): "You know, I have a bit of a man crush on Daniel Craig."

The two things that aren't paraphrased: "man crush" and "Daniel Craig."

There are a few major problems with this statement.

Problem No. 1: No Heterosexual man should ever - and I mean ever - say he has a "man crush" on anyone. Admitting you have a man crush on a celebrity is like saying you're a metrosexual in 1985. In 85, saying you were a metrosexual equated to you having homosexual sex with the entire city.

The world wasn't ready for metrosexual then, and it's not ready for men to start admitting that they have man crushes.

There's one way the term man crush should ever be used: You allow you're friends to jokingly say you have a man crush on someone and vice versa. You don't admit that you have one.

Problem No. 2: How can you possibly have a man crush on Daniel Craig? I know there are some of you who are reading this like "who in the hell is that?" Right. Daniel Craig is the last guy to play James Bond aka 007.

He did great in that film. Awesome movie. Can't tell you anything else he's done. Ever.

When you're friends tell you that you have a man crush on someone it's usually Jay-Z or Michael Jordan or Lil Wayne or Tony Montana. Trust me, there are mad people (aka dick riders) right now who are buying knee-pads for Jay, Wayne, Jordan and Tony.

Not Daniel Craig. No. Saying this makes it seems as though you really like him like him. If you lived in England, maybe this might be more understandable. Then again, you just admitted you had a man crush. There's only one understanding.

What does this mean? It means Work Dude is fruity. We suspected he might be playing for the other team a month ago. I'd said I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case based off of the things Belizeanchica told me previously.

But after this Bag of Skittles moment? I'm 92.7 percent sure he's willing to taste the rainbow.

Mizzou is Off The Wall ...

2007-11-27T14:27:00.001-06:00

These other teams is Tito.

We Just Need To Play The Hand Right

2007-11-26T14:50:00.000-06:00

Unless you're stuck under a boulder somewhere on a deserted island, you by now know that Mizzou is No. 1 in the nation in Bowl Championship Series.

We can beat Oklahoma. Let me repeat that: We can beat Oklahoma.

If Mizzou avenges its only loss of the season against Oklahoma in the Big 12 title game, the Tigers will play for the national title and BCS trophy. That was unthinkable at the beginning of this season.

Expectations were for Mizzou to win the Big 12 North, but we weren't even ranked to start the season. Nebraska was.

When we cupcaked the Huskers 41-6, I knew then that we could play with anybody in the country. Nebraska gets the best recruits/athletes. As good as any thriving DI program. And we held them to six points. Six.

I knew then, our Tigers could play with any team in the nation. We lost to an extremely talented Oklahoma team (we had a chance to win, but a sure interception slipped through Pig Brown's hands in the fourth quarter while Mizzou led 24-23. I can assure you that we would have gained momentum with that pick).

We lost. But we haven't lost since in six-straight must-win games (If we lost one KU would be playing the Big 12 title game). And yes, we DOMINATED Kansas. The score was 28-7 heading into the fourth quarter, and we shut things down and tried to milk clock.

Now, we have another shot at the Sooners, and a win gives us a shot at the national title.

Can we do it? I'm 50-50 on this one. We have the best offense in the nation. But this game is going to play out just like the Mizzou-KU game.

If Mizzou wants to win, Tony Temple, Jimmy Jackson, Derrick Washington and the Offensive line must get off on the Oklahoma defense the way we did KU. Without Temple, Mizzou managed just 57 yards on 30 carries the first go-round against Oklahoma.

That must improve to at least 30 for 120. OU will be without top defensive end Auston English (broken ankle), which will help Mizzou.

The Mizzou defensive line and linebackers must play above their heads and slow Allen Patrick and Chris Brown (make him look like the dancer/singer) and control the line of scrimmage. That combo combined for 111 yards on 24 carries and three touchdowns in the win over Mizzou.
If Mizzou can do this, there's only one other thing that matters. Mizzou will get its points. We must stop Oklahoma on third down. The Sooners were 10 of 14 on third down the first go-round and the Tigers defensive must improve on that.

We must pressure Sam Bradford and rattle him more than we did in October. Send five or six on third downs. Get our hands up in his passing lanes.

If Mizzou can do these things and don't have stupid turnovers (three of the four last time were unforced errors on Mizzou's part), we will win this game. Our passing game will be there. It's too efficient to be stopped. We've consistently proved that in every game this season.

But it all must come together. We have Kings in the pocket, and promising flop. Now we just need to play the hand like we're Johnny Chan against Eric Seidel 1988.

Let him watch the game

2007-11-19T17:50:00.000-06:00

This may be the best advice I could ever give a woman about a man. Lean in close. Read this next sentence twice if you don't get it the first time:

Don't ever make your man miss the big game.

Women, do you want to keep your man? Do you want a man to remain interested in you? Let him watch his game in peace. Even if you're just friends, and want to maintain said friendship, let him do him during game time.

If you make a man miss his game because you want to watch Golden Girls' re-runs or the Lifetime Movie Channel, he will be more prone to do all of the things you don't want him to do.

Cheat. Lie. Manipulate the truth. Avoid you. All of these things come into play by making a man miss the game. A man and his game are like a dog and its bone. They need each other more than you'll ever understand.

How do I know this? From experience (experiences I won't detail here because they're that traumatic), and from watching female friends make this fatal mistake with their men.

Perfect example: Wildcat-Squared forced her boyfriend to watch Desperate Housewives with her during the Indianapolis-New England AFC Championship game. Remember that game? It was one of the greatest football games ever played (and the main reason Randy Moss is going Randy Moss circa 1998 on defensive backs in New England).

Meanwhile, Wildcat-Squared's man watched Eva Longoria and company. Left to only see the SportsCenter highlights, he could only think of what his night could have been. She initially told me about this that night as I was coming down from my "watching the game" high.

I damn near cursed her out.

"Your relationship might soon end because you made him miss this game, you know this right," I said?

She didn't believe me. Now, they're still together, but their relationship has changed. He brings up her making him "miss" the game every chance he gets. He won't allow her near him during gameday. She must stay at her place, he at his, and understandably so.

He won't make the same mistake. I can't explain it better than I did with the man/dog analogy. It's just innate.

Women, take heed.

Learn who your man's favorite teams are. Don't make him miss their attempted triumphs. Know when the playoffs of the NBA, NFL, NHL, Major League baseball, college football and basketball are. Let him watch. If his team makes it into one of this arenas, pretend like you know what's going on at least. Be excited with him.

Don't just go in the other room and turn on that same Lifetime Movie you saw last week or the one you haven't seen yet. You already know how they both end. The man is a bad guy who beats his wife and she is viewed as a great person for escaping the hands of despair and death.

You don't know it, but if you make him watch Lifetime during the "big game," he might start having these homicidal thoughts about you. Don't be that woman. Don't do it.

It would behoove you.

One of my new fav JZ lines ...

2007-11-18T20:25:00.000-06:00

in a pictorial. lol.

"Baby, I said I sport fly shit, I should win an ESPY."

Complex

2007-11-13T23:47:00.000-06:00

Going through a little battle right now. And this is normally what happens in said situation.

Complex
At a depth where
It isn’t safe for minnows
Willow trees don’t blow and snow
Goes in the opposite direction of the wind
Weird? I know.
But I had to let go,
And sail on the current of sanity
A calamity? Not quite
Insanity? Maybe, right
It may be right to walk away
But it feels wrong,
Like a song about love lost
in a major key
Wish there was a way to smile
Through this debris
Yet all I see are stones
Thrown from vanity
Who does that to a friend they call best?
Who fires aimless rounds at a friend’s open chest?
Knowing no vest can veil a failed friend,
Who’s let to wonder if sanity will come again.
In the form of that friend,
Or come to understand
That person was nothing more than a minnow
That never learned to swim.

I Now Understand Why ...

2007-11-06T13:17:00.000-06:00

... Ne-Yo never leaves the house without a hat. Dude's head size is out of control. Grab the brim dude.

Sometimes, Envy Can Be Sweet

2007-11-04T01:32:00.000-05:00

Heathclaire asked me to meet her at the mall on Wednesday so we could have a simple dinner at Panera after she got her nails done.

"Fair enough," I thought of the harmless trip and meal. But as I pulled into the mall parking lot, I realized what I got myself into. The mall was packed as though it were the day after Thanksgiving or the day before Christmas.

No, I didn't forget Wednesday was Halloween. I just forgot that parents and their costumed children raid the mall for all the candy corporations wish to doll out.

At first, it annoyed me. It took me 10 minutes to find a parking spot. When I got in the mall, all of the people and little people caused me to get lost in a place I walk around once a week. Weird, I know.

Then I started thinking about the kids. I thought about how if they took three trips around the mall they should probably get enough candy to last a year. Then I thought about how they'd probably eat all of the candy in 72 hours because they know little to no restraint.

Then I thought about the their innocence, and started overthinking. I got hooked on the idea of why children are important.

There are so many children out there who can be labeled as "unplanned" or "mistakes." I'm one. But seeing this kids made me realizes what their parents are supposed to get out of making life through a so called unplanned mistake.

The innocence and the purity of the children I saw Wednesday night represented all that's right with the world, and what we should strive for even as we press on toward being omniscient.

The children give us reason to hope and believe the mistakes we make as adults won't be made by their generation (though oddly enough, they make them, too).

But it (almost) made me want children right now. Not that I have someone I want children with (which is vitally important). I could see how having kids would motivate me to have to do right at all times because the innocence and purity of another person depended on me. Most of the bad habits would fall by the wayside.

And then I thought to myself, "Self, you need to be doing this for you anyway."

As Heathclaire and I made our way into Panera finally, I ran into a high school classmate of mine. I couldn't remember his name offhand. But we exchanged pleasantries and names (again).

Then he asked me what I was doing, and I gave him the obvious answer.

"Surviving."

I returned the question, and he gave me the obvious answer.

"Man, just chasing these kids around. Do you have any?"

"Nah, man. I'm waiting until I've got the picket fence and the right woman before drop my seed," I replied.

Jason, who is married with a 7-year-old and another on the way, smiled, dapped me up and said "Dude, that's the way to do it. Wait as long as you can."

I knew what he meant, but at the same time, I kinda envied him.

I Shit You Not

2007-10-31T18:23:00.000-05:00

So Saturday night, Heathclaire called me asking if I want to go out with her and her out-of-town visitors.

I met them at one of my favorite KC Spots, Vivace aka the IceBar. They had a little late dinner and martinis. I had a few cocktails, and then it was off to Zen (Tao) also formerly known as the Grand Emporium (which also is the place where I saw John Legend before he was a Legend, and my debit card was thieved.)

Got all of that?

OK, we get there, pay the cover, and head to the dance floor. It's packed, and I mean ridiculously packed. So full that I felt like I stepped in an 8x8 sauna with 50 people I didn't know. To make things worse, they were all throwing bows.

It was 1999 college daze all over again. So we left the dance floor, went to the bar and indulged in a few shots of Patron (it always gets you right for the wrong situation - i.e., this one). We tried the dance floor again, but there were too many impolite people flinging body parts - including size Double G breasts that some woman made touch the floor - around the spot.

Needless to say, we went back to the quiet, chill bar. Things remained calm for a while until I saw my fifth or sixth Halloween costume. It was a white guy in a white sailor's outfit, which included a set of male daisy dukes.

He got his drink with his female companion and then walked away from the bar, and then we saw it. What was it? It was this unmistakable shit stain on the back of this dude's shorts.

I shit - no pun - you not. The color left was an opacity-full brown that confirmed that he didn't even have on underwear to protect himself.

I looked at one of Heathclaire's friends. She looked at me, and we embraced in a hug and laughter about what we had witnessed.

We didn't say a word until the dude was out of sight, and then we told our party what we had just seen.

And no, we didn't tell him about it. I didn't know him, so I had no reason. What an interesting way to kick of the Halloween week, huh?

Kerry Washington is ...

2007-10-24T17:59:00.000-05:00

fine. Need I say more?

Just a Few of ...

2007-10-23T21:29:00.000-05:00

... my favorite hip hop favs. One of my friends e-mailed me wanting a playlist of what I considered my favorite hip hop songs from a specific era. I gave her this: a sampling of a specific sound and era of hip hop. Thus I throw a little Kanye and Lupe in the mix. Let me know what you think, and what else you'd add to this working list.

Common's I Used to Love H.E.R.
Mos Def's Ms. Fat Booty
Jay-Z's Dead Presidents II
Notorious BIG's Juicy
Ice Cube's It Was A Good Day
Dr. Dre's Nuthin But A G Thang
Outkast's Elevators
Eightball & MJG's Space Age Pimpin
A Tribe Called Quest's Bonita Applebum
LL Cool J's Around The Way Girl
Wu Tang Clan's C.R.E.A.M.
Nas' If I Ruled The World
Lupe Fiasco's Kick Push
Nas' The World Is Yours
Kanye West's Get Em High
Doug E. Fresh's Keep Rising to the Top
Eric B. & Rakim's Don't Sweat the Technique

Just an FYI on my movie game ... and other stuff ...

2007-10-17T22:27:00.001-05:00

Michael Clayton is the movie of the year thus far. It makes me want to rethink everything I've ever written, and write it again. The monologues are moving (The crazy dude in the movie should be nominated for the Best Supporting Actor Academy Award).

The storyline is surreal. And the subtle twists of fate and issues of integrity will toy with your heart and mind, and force you to see it again so you can again try understanding what made it so good the first time.

And amazingly, it gets better - the second time.

The Brave One is a close second, but it's not on par with the interwoven story of Michael Clayton. It's instead a grimy tale about fear, and what happens when it consumes the fearless. Yeah, I've seen a few good movies recently.

Why Did I Get Married is okay. There some amazing writing in it, and then there's some "what the fuck were you thinking when you wrote this"-type stuff. In my estimation, it's Tyler Perry's second-best release to date behind Diary of A Mad Black Woman.

That's it. See all three, and you won't be disappointed. I'm telling you so.

And up next of course is American Gangster. Here's a link to this amazing piece from 2000 on Frank Lucas. It should help put some of the Frank Lucas story in perspective before you see the movie.

And while I'm thinking about all things American Gangster here's a list:

1. Jay-Z is killing them right now with Roc Boys and Blue Magic.

2. The dudes who ratted TI and OJ Simpson out are "so not gangsta right now" as Riley Freeman (yes, the Boondocks is back if you didn't notice) would say.

3. But it's also "so not gangsta" to put yourself in the middle of either of those types of situations these days.

4. Machine Guns? Whatever. Silencers? What the hell does TI need silencers for? Was he planning to blaze somebody for real? Damn. Guess he won't be doing any American Gangster promos.

5. I haven't watched them yet, but I can't wait to see the BET Hip Hop Awards. Supposedly Kanye gave back an award and not too many people knew where TI was (The show took place literally five hours after TI was arrested).

True Story ... For Some

2007-10-11T18:46:00.001-05:00

On Second Thought

A beautiful smile,
Fractured by a fraction of a second’s second thought
Took my clip, aimed for her upper lip
And verbally started to whip her with my pistol
Gripped the pump, and wouldn’t let go.
This picture was clear as crystal,
There were words of mine she needed to know,
Sores in my heart I needed to sow,
So I reaped,
Opened up my book of meditations,
Started the process of edification
Because trying to conjugate her words
Was impossible without libation
From the pool of my heart,
See, without it, I’d be jumping out of hedges
Restrained by orders
From a judge who judged
Not my rationale, but in rations
He wouldn’t see my hurt, just my passion,
Or would it be rage?
Just glad I got through that phase
Unscathed, but not unblemished
See I left other situations unfinished
But not this one
This one had me caught up like Usher
Without a rubber,
Thank God it didn’t burn
Still I shoulda known better than to lay with her
Without protective cover
A tough lesson I had to learn
Excuses are foolish tools,
But I tell you,
she impregnated my mind,
And mine didn’t matter over hers
Said she’d chose a route that cost $315
Instead of the commitment we’d incur
And I just blankly stared at her,
It should have said it enough
Couldn’t believe she’d willing kill a piece of me,
That’s when I really wanted to erupt
She said she didn’t wanna make a mistake
I told her that’s what the majority of us were
And to take
the life of our child … we’d be the ones to suffer
Yet, she wouldn’t permit me suffrage
Although crowing for my jimmy
Pushed us to this edge.
Still couldn’t convince her
Of a potential life long pledge.
The thought put a hole in her mind
Like Mike in the Wiz
in one ear and out the other
When I said I’d
Even pick up another gig.
So off to the clinic she sped,
And I refused to give chase.
The battle was beyond me,
Shit, I couldn’t win even had I laced
My words around the feet of the Most High
So I fell to mine, and began to cry
Because I knew not what else to do.
I could pray for a miracle
But my spiritual seemed satirical
Because the empirical plan
Seemed to be slipping away with every second
And my second thought had me reflecting
Back on my back, and my decision to lay her
Shoulda been trying to save her
While savoring the moments of love’s simplicity
Instead of simply maming her insides
Are beaming with me inside
And there’s little I can do
Besides realizes
How much of a blessing
A seed really is
And how I should only spread mine
When the plan isn’t maming the kid.

Operation Overload

2007-10-08T14:48:00.001-05:00

Today is a crazy day in television for me. I normally don't watch that much, but tonight I will be glued to the tube like Lindsay Lohan to a bottle of Patron.

Here's a sample of what I'm up against. It's not fair I tell you. It's not fair.

Everybody Hates Chris, Girlfriends, The Game - which is about the change the game concerning black sitcom right now - all on the CW tonight.

Monday Night Football (The Cowboys, my second team behind the Chiefs, are on the big show) and MLB Playoffs (A-Rod and Jeter try to keep Joe Torre's job).

That's the norm for me. I can juggle all of these and be alright. But tonight, things get crazy.

VH1 has the Hip Hop Honors and I Love New York 2 (I'm gonna come back to this in a minute).

But to top everything off, The critically-acclaimed and scrutinized The Boondocks second season premieres tonight at 10:30.

This is crazy. On any regular night, I'd watch (almost) any of these programs, but tonight I will be confused.

The one thing I won't be watching is I Love New York 2. That chick is a jigaboo for real, and she and Flavor Flav are a disgrace to the black race. It's like the modern day, prime time Jerry Springer/Maury.

Now, I have a problem with the show period. But it got bigger when they decided to run the show right up against the BEST WRITTEN HOUR OF BLACK TELEVISION SINCE THE COSBY SHOW/A DIFFERENT WORLD THURSDAY TIMESLOT (If you don't know, I'm talking about Girlfriends/The Game on the CW).

Are you fucking kidding me? Yes, I'm that pissed. We, black people, have a chance to be entertained by two good story lines but VH1 is going to throw there jigaboo TV on at the same time and compete. That blows. Three words for VH1: PLAY MORE VIDEOS.
---------------------
As we head into Hip Hop Honors here's a thought: But did Busta, Timbaland, 50 Cent, LL and Dr. Dre all go on the Barry Bonds diet at the same time like it was going up their batting average?

Buildings

2007-10-04T03:10:00.000-05:00

This world is fucked up like Tyson is
We’ve tattooed its face
Disgraced what its maker’s created
Burnt it down like Rison’s
Home can’t be found
Because my heart is a part
From the depth of my sound
Resounding in corners
Where coroners
Are cornering
The cause of the effects
In our streets,
buildings keep rising
Condo owners are advertising
Our streets, they poltergeising
And I’m surmising
That they’re building these buildings
On the backs of our cause, B
Cause we let’em
Heartbeats momentarily pause, Regretting
them mishaps from yesteryear
Sure, Yesterday’s near,
But when your soul’s in the proper place
Tomorrow’s in the clear
Everclear of what Reagan and Bush did
Don’t worry, they’ll be crackin like a snitch
Before Jehovah and his kid
The first will be last,
And they’ll have to follow our lead
We’ll watch their monuments fall
On this we can’t agree.
To disagree that the egregious aggressions
Of those men could be colorblind blessings
Lessons for us to learn from
Oppression for us to yearn from
Professions for us to churn from
See I’m professing
That we stop regressing
And start suppressing
These pressing issues
And begin to issue anew agenda
Stop making babies like Brenda
Quit fighting over spoiled milk
This is the referenda
Because our body could be good
Together,
We could up-end,
What they ended up screwing
I know the message been brewing
But eschewing this issue any longer
Will prevent our sons from accruing
What’s been in store
For scores upon scores
Yeah, we deserve and want more
But we’ve gotta work together
To make it better
so scores in store
won’t have to implore
the same broken record that’s been ignored
for so long
Before we say so long
Let’s make this promise lifelong
to teach each other
to reach each other
to feed each other
to build each other
before they tear us down, too.

Lower Your Voice Please

2007-09-27T21:31:00.001-05:00

You only need to watch the first few seconds of this: the "in the building part." Then, keep reading.

I have two friends who love to mock Oprah, and they do so in this loud annoying, but funny voice. They say words like "hot cakes" and sweet cheeks" in their best Oprah voice.

Most recently, I think last Thursday, one of them was headed to the bathroom at a local watering hole and decided to announce this to the group.

"I'm going to URINATE!" she exclaimed. We couldn't do anything but bug up. It was funny. I couldn't quite recall Oprah's annoying scream (because I don't watch her that often), but it was still humorous.

Well, Two days ago, I happened to be flipping channels at night, and came across Oprah. It was a show about sex. And at some point I heard her do the infamous scream.

I have to admit, I laughed because I thought of my friends.

Then I thought, "there's a chance she might scream, 'ORGASM!'" I wanted no part of that.

I promptly turned the station.

I Hate Derek Jeter

2007-09-25T20:14:00.000-05:00

I have this thing where when I see someone famous on television and they pique my interest, I look them up on Wikipedia, one of my addictions.

When I'm being lazy, which is more than it should be, I'll type the person's name in my toolbar's Google search because I know Wikipedia's entry will be No. 2 or 3 on the search list.

Well, this evening the list of people I decided to look up included Jessica Alba. I can't even tell you what she was on the television for now, not after what i learned. Tonight, Google search ruined any desire I had for the famous/attractive white woman.

You see, in my list of attractive famous women I always keep a few white women in my list to diversify my tastes, to allow for myself to appear and be well-rounded. The two women battling for that No. 1 spot for the white women were Alba and Scarlett Johansson.

That was until I googled Alba tonight.

I typed her name - J-E-S-S-I-C-A A- ... and before I could finish, Google had given me its suggestions.

No. 1: Jessica Alba.
No. 2: Jessica Alba and herpes.

"What?" I thought. "How did I miss this?"

So I did what any self-respecting person would do. I clicked on the second option to find out more dirt on Alba. Low and behold, she apparently contracted the disease from Derek "I only do the finest women in Hollywood and New York" Jeter, also the captain of the New York Yankees.

The Ron Mexico status immediately serves as a demotion for Alba, and I told belizeanchica this was the case. Scarlett had lost her main competition in my book because I can't look at Jessica the same now.

Then I found this tree:

Yeah, guess who's on there, too. Scarlett branded with a big-ass red H. I hate Derek Jeter the baseball player, and now I hate Derek Jeter the man. He's ruined the wet and pipe dreams of millions of men and sports fans.

And he deserves to be reprimanded for his actions.

Ed's Note: this is just a joke. I don't really hate Derek Jeter because he'll never be as good as A-Rod.

And the beat goes on ...

2007-09-19T17:02:00.001-05:00

Ok, I've been MIA, and it's not because it's something I wanted. My computer has been at the doctor's for the last four or five days, and I've missed so much in the world.

Let's see: I got into two fights with Heathclaire, Kanye outsold 50 and O.J. Simpson decided to lose his freaking mind again (although I believe he was set up).

Anyway, I've missed you, too, and I'll write something profound later on today or tomorrow. Peace.

P.S. I think I'm going to start a new blog that's more of a journal of my personal thoughts and life. That doesn't mean this is going anywhere, but I've just got some personal things that i want to get out, and need to be able to reflect on at a later date.

Of course, it's going to have a random name, and it will be just for me and the random people who find it that I don't know.

2007-09-13T20:05:00.000-05:00

Looking at GWB talk about the war in Iraq on television is like staring at a Piñata you'll never get the chance to crack, and that alone annoys you.

I Will Climb The Highest Heights ...

2007-09-13T12:25:00.000-05:00

So I went to cool martini bar called The Drop last night with Heathclaire to help celebrate passing the bar exam. It was Heathclaire, James (a woman nicknamed James) and I.

I'd been to The Drop before, but when it was the Buddha Lounge. The new owners totally switched up the ambiance. Maybe the best addition to the bar though was a video jukebox.

If you know me, you know I love jukeboxes, and I'll have one in my house one day. But this was a video jukebox, well above the norm.

So I approached it hoping that it might have my type of jams in there. And to my disbelief, it was full of them. I first played Hi-Five's "I Like The Way (The Kissing Game)" ... so in honor of that video, I dug up another one of Hi-Five's jams for you. This one happens to be my favorite Hi-Five song of all time. Enjoy.

Curtis Apparently Skipped Graduation

2007-09-11T00:00:00.000-05:00

Ed's Note: I've listened to both Curtis and Graduation thoroughly. These reviews are what I think of the albums themselves, as well as today's showdown and the artists.

Kanye West is a square peg that somehow fits into the circular hole that is hip hop. With his first release, he brought Miri Ben Ari on the scene for several tracks. With his second, he decided one violinist wasn't enough, and brought in an entire string ensemble and Jon Brion to bring about a sound not found on the hip hop scene.

With Graduation, Mr. "By His self he so impressed" has made the defiant fit once again. Graduation's tracks have so much depth, many sounding like they belong in a motion picture and not a rap album. Stronger sounds like it should be playing in a techno club (and it is right now somewhere), not rocking a hip hop set.

But it does that, too, and does it well. And that's just the beginning.

Twelve of the 13 tracks are cuts that would wound the ego of the finest machete. They're real. They're diverse. Some, like Can't Tell Me Nothing," hit hard. Others, see "Flashing Lights," breathe on a chord so chill its hard to believe its the same album.

Yet it works, and works well.

And then there are the lyrics and the honesty.

Lines like "Two years Dwayne Wayne, became Dwayne Wade, and Ay" 'Ye rhymes on The Glory.

Kanye smashes himself for his lavender tux, he says he wishes Lauryn Hill's heart was still in rhyming and not in Zion and "Big Brother," the most lyrically potent and honest song on the album.

There is some depth missing to the content. There's no socially conscious track like "All Falls Down" or "Crack Music." And that alone means this album is not on par with The College Dropout or even Late Registration.

But when you listen to the music, you realize Kanye has commenced to a level never before seen in hip hop, a level where squares fit in round holes with relative ease.

-------------------

50 Cent's first album is a classic rap album. Probably in the Top 10 all time of hip hop albums. There are tracks on that album that would make BIG and Pac jealous like Patiently Waiting or Many Men.

You could hear the hunger in 50 lyrics as though he hadn't eaten in weeks. You felt his struggle.

On The Massacre and Curtis, which drops today, 50 sounds like a man who's feating on Filet Mignon and Mahi Mahi daily. There are a few tracks that go hard, "Ayo Technology," which features Justin Timberlake tops the list followed by "I Get Money."

Few, if any, of the other beats thump and move you, and the lyrics sound like they belong on the mixtape of an amateur, not an artist three albums deep.

It makes you wonder what's left for a man to rap about who has everything and has no struggle. What's left for a man who has to manually create his own struggle? Not much.

Make you think it's time for 50 to take his Vitamin Water money and crawl in a music-less hole until he finds some more inspiration. He says the title of his next album is Before I Self Destruct.

I think it's happening an album early, Curtis. But he is laughing straight to the bank with his Vitamin Water money.
---
Finally, I'm buying Kanye's album. Had 50's sounded better, I would have purchased it. Can't say the same about Kenny Chesney.

A Few Riffs ...

2007-09-10T13:04:00.000-05:00

I've had a few good thoughts over the course of the last week. Here's a sample of what's been going through my brain.

1. The big hip hop showdown is tomorrow, Sept. 11th. Fifty and Kanye's albums drop, and they're fighting for supremacy. but they've got competition who is not getting a lot of run - Kenny Chesney. This reads like Pat White and Steve Slaton chasing the Heisman, and losing out because they're on the same team and they're splitting votes. Chesney's gonna win this race, although I hope Kanye outsells 50, and he crawls into a hole and drinks Vitamin water for the rest of his life.

2. Has anyone else noticed that Lil Mama looks like Lil Bow Wow with some poppin Lip Gloss and a weave? I refuse to recognize him as (No Lil) Bow Wow until he grows to at least 5-foot-7.

3. The title You Have to Kiss A Lot of Frogs popped into my mind the other day, and for whatever reason I started wondering what would be the proper response to said book. This was the title I came up with: You Have to Knock Off A Few Ducks Before You Sing A Swan Song.

4. Britney Spears needs to go home and be a mom. Forget singing and performing.

5. I'm working on a really good piece entitled Asymmetry, which I will post either later today or tomorrow.

6. I'm probably going to write a review tomorrow of the two albums. I've heard them both, and there's good and bad on both.

That's all.

Butter On A Stove

2007-09-07T15:22:00.000-05:00

Butter churned
I never knew it flew
That was until the day
I first saw the truth
Your lies shriveled up
Like Crisco on a hot stove
Wishing it could find its way
Back out into the cold
But no, it stayed, and de-chilled
Wilted away as though it were
A hundred degrees on a sunny day
And the rays blazed trails long as Santa Fe
Yet you was on the skillet, plus about 80 degrees
Flipped the whole script,
And started spitting more shit at me.
And me,
Enveloped by the fire you brought
I knew not what to do.
Was I to turn the heat up
And answer your beckoning cue?
Nah, dude.
I brought the burner back down to a simmer
See, you gotta remember
I’ve got entirely too much to lose.
See, my fate’s derived by the decisions I chose.
And confuse you it may,
But I’m walking away
Sure, I’ve got more to say
I’m saving those words for a rainy day
When they’ll be better spent
On someone I can actually convince
Making hamburger with out unnecessary grease
Certainly makes a lot more sense.

I Gotta Be

2007-09-05T14:31:00.000-05:00

So this is back before Jagged Edge found an edge. Their music on their first album, A Jagged Era, seemed to be less hood. This song had the feel of a B2M ballad. It was their first Top 40 single, and probably my favorite JE track.

Peaks and Valleys: Falling From Grace

2007-08-28T22:21:00.000-05:00

While talking about the Mike Vick saga again, a friend and I started to consider if there were any other bigger black collapses. We came up with an intriguing list of the 15 greatest falls from black grace. To make the list, you either lost a lot of money, did something mad stupid, ended up in jail or something along similar lines.

But the key is the people listed had to be on top of their game at some point. We’re starting at the bottom and going to the top, or should that be the other way around? Who knows?

There are a few Joneses and Barrys, a couple of Marions and Roberts, the Godfather of Soul, the self-proclaimed King of R&B and far too many Mikes. But first we'll start with the dishonorable mentions.

Dishonorable Mention: Darryl Strawberry, Dwight Gooden, Suge Knight, Isaiah Washington, Terry McMillan, Lil Kim and Wesley Snipes.

No. 15: Star Jones – She lied to us. She said she lost the weight through hard work, even though we knew she lost it through her wallet and surgery. For lying about something so major for no reason, she gets a spot on this list above the druggies, bullies, homophobes and psychos.

No. 14: James Brown – The Godfather of Soul had a few falls from grace, a few spats with drugs and the law. But most recently his body lay in house for an extended period of time as his family members struggled about what to do with it because he didn’t redo his will.

No. 13: Marion Jones - Once considered the fast woman in the world, we learned why she was just that in federal indictments alleging she used performance-enhancing drugs. Her then-husband CJ Hunter was suspended from the track for using drugs, and she probably was right there with him. She then went on to date and birth a child with sprinter Tim Montgomery, who also succumbed to steroid use and scandal. Oh, yeah, Marion also lost all of her money and had to sell three properties including her mom’s crib to raise cash.

No. 12: Ron Isley – Mr. Biggz evaded paying his taxes since before he made “Between the Sheets.” He also took his dead brother’s money. Ron also recorded and performed a song written by R. Kelly named “Contagious.” The lyrics are disgusting if you really listen to them. Your contagious/touch me baby/give me what you’ve got. Really?

No. 11: MC Hammer – Helped run the Oakland Athletics as a child, but didn’t learn about money management from owner Charlie Finley. Hammer blew up, put everybody on the payroll and went bankrupt.

No. 10: Marion Barry – “The bitch set me up.” Former District of Columbia Mayor was caught with crack cocaine and a woman in a hotel room in 1990 while still in office. He stepped down as Mayor but was re-elected in 1995. We are a forgiving nation. There’s hope Mike Vick.

No. 9: Barry Bonds – “Accused” of using performance-enhancing drugs to improve his play on the baseball field even though he was already a lock for the Hall of Fame. This happened under Baseball Owners and Bud Selig watch, and they didn’t disapprove. Broke sports most hallowed record, the home run record, this summer.

No. 8: Master P – In 1999, he was worth more than $350 million. In 2004, he filed for bankruptcy. Three-hundred and fifty-million plus. Seriously? But he’s bankrolling off of Lil Romeo still.

No. 7: Condoleezza Rice – She’s smart as can be and an accomplished pianist, but she is also George W. Bush’s No. 1 go-getta. Need I say more?

No. 6: Whitney Houston/Bobby Brown – Their fates are tied together. He started falling before he reached his peak (and he did peak with the Don’t Be Cruel album), and when they got married, he brought her down with him. She called him the King of R&B. Then the television show. Drugs marriage, and coonery are a lethal mix.

No. 5: Michael Jackson – Even if he didn’t do anything to that little boy, Mike is mad crazy. Funny thing about him is that if he announced and booked a 30-city US tour, it would sell out in a week, and grown women would still pass out.

No. 4: Robert Kelly – What we said about Mike is almost true with Kells. Most of have seen what “the person alleged to be Robert Kelly” did in those tapes to that girl who looked a little to young to be “ready to go all the way.” But we still bump his music like we did back in 1992 when Twelve Play first dropped.

No. 3: Mike Vick – Stands to lose over $100 million in salary and endorsements because of his dogfighting scandal. Will likely be spend a year in jail, and be suspended for the next two NFL seasons.

No. 2: Mike Tyson – Got his ass whooped by Buster Douglas. Was convicted of rape. He lost hundreds of millions of dollars because of it. Let’s not forget that he bit a chunk of Evander Holyfield’s ear off, told Lennox Lewis he wanted to eat his children and then tattooed half of his face.

No. 1: OJ Simpson – Do I really need to go here?

If She Ever Feels Alone ...

2007-08-26T15:09:00.001-05:00

The year was 1988. I was seven years old (and on my way to eight and the third grade). My brother and I owned our first record, Michael Jackson's Bad. I wouldn't say the word "butt," when Michael said "Yo butt is mine," because I thought it was a curse word.

The world was moving to cassette tapes. And I followed. The first cassette tape I purchased? This single from the boy band The Boys. It's called "Dial My Heart."

We Still Miss You

2007-08-25T15:29:00.000-05:00

It's been six years since we lost Aaliyah. She was a force. Here's I Miss You. RIP Babygirl. We miss you, and love you.

Flipped Script: Giving Her Your Number ....

2007-08-23T15:44:00.000-05:00

This is my break for the day. I've got mad work to do, but I needed a break from writing. Thus what am I doing? You guessed it, writing more.

I got into this intriguing conversation with KayJay (also known as HeathClaire) two days ago about men giving their numbers to women.

In the old days, the man courted and pursued the woman. But in the world we live in today (Remember the phrase women of the 90s?) that's not always the case. Women pursue men. In public. In private. In clubs. In jest.

Not always, but they do. One of the tactics men have taken to in general is actually giving women their number instead of asking for hers. When a man does this, it usually means one of two things:

1. He's just not that into you (I hate that phrase or) and is going to let you decided if you want to call him and pursue him hoping maybe he'll warm up to you.

2. He is into you but is too shy or insecure to ask you for fear of rejection and would rather give you his number and hope that you have enough interest to call him that way he puts himself in a position where he doesn't embarrass himself.

Kayjay says she has a problem with either instance of this, and it's easy to see why. Who wants someone who's not into them and who wants an insecure man?

I, on the other hand, understand take this in from a third perspective. This coming from a guy who's not insecure and if the woman's the right one he will pursue at all costs.

Guys are flipping the roles on women, and here's why:

Every guy I know - shy, insecure guys included - has had at least one girl he had, and I mean had, to pursue. You know, the girl that he thought was too bad and gave him two seconds of her day, so he had to see if there was something more there. He gets her number and calls her the next day, and lays his game on thick like Robin's wife. (I've been there)

Then there are the inbetweens, the girls where you have some interest but you're not immediately sparked. Thus, you don't put forth as much effort as before. You may talk to her long enough to ask her for her number, but you know you won't call (I did this one last weekend). Most every guy I know has also encountered this woman.

There's also the instance where the fine girl you're not even paying attention to makes a move on you (it's happened to me, too) to get you to notice her. It's becoming more common nowadays.

All these things considered, why is it such a bad idea to give the women in situation No. 2 your number instead, and reverse the roles? It's not. If a woman has that much interest in a man (in today's world) she should pursue him the same way men have been chasing women since the beginning of time.

I mean, don't (some, not all) women get up the gall to become groupies when their favorite athlete or R&B singer comes through their city? Yeah. I know mad women who would throw their panties and all that comes with them at Reggie Bush without dude even saying a word.

Why not pursue the ordinary, good-looking brother you think is the shit at the club, grocery store, mall or Target? What's so different? If you're that into him, you should MAN up and start the pursuit.

Does this make you look like you're chasing a man? No, not if you know how to play your cards and the game right.

Kayjay is of the accord where she believes that the man should still pursue the woman.

But we're not living in the 1950s, slavery is over and racism ... you get my point with the first two. The male-female chase has evolved, and with it, we almost must evolve our games. That includes when we approach a female and how we do it.

Do we all look that much alike?

2007-08-19T11:08:00.000-05:00

Thursday night is always a fool, a tomfool to be specific. See, a couple of my old co-workers from a friendly neighborhood paper have started this tradition where every Thursday night we go to one of my favorite bars in Kansas City, Tomfooleries.

It's my favorite bar because I met Mark McGwire there a year after he broke the home run record (also a few years before everyone started to believe he was on roids). I was an innocent 19-year-old, and I thought that bar was the coolest place in the city. I vowed to return there often sans my mother when I came of age.

Anyway, last night turned out to be a little pre-birthday (It's on Saturday) bash of sorts. In all about 10 people I'm really close to or cool with came out to partake in our weekly tradition.

One of my friends told the waiter that it was my birthday, and at the Fool, they do things differently. They don't come and sing to you and bring you a nice dessert.

No. Your waitperson brings you a Twinkie with a sparkler in it.

So as I turned and saw the sparkler, I knew what it was. After all, I'd experienced this from the "it's somebody else's b-day" perspective a few times.

I knew the Twinkie was headed for me. But no. Somehow the waiter decided the only other black guy, we'll call him Perez, at the table was the "birthday guy," even though my friend clearly stated that it was me (not to mention when she told the waiter about my birthday Perez wasn't even at the bar yet).

I immediately put my head on one of my friends shoulders and started bugging up. The waiter finally realized his mistake and hastily moved the Twinkie, the sparkle halfway fizzled out in front of me.

As I laughed the ignorance off, all I could think to myself was "damn, they really do think we all look alike."

Happy Birthday To Me ...

2007-08-18T01:43:00.001-05:00

that's all. Wherever you are, know that it's a celebration because I'm 27. ... Yeah ....

Breaking News ...

2007-08-14T21:18:00.000-05:00

The first draft of Tryangles, my ode to that thing we call black love in screenplay format, is complete. More than 15,000 words of confusion, infidelity and love.

It's been several months since this idea first started brewing in my head, and it's been about a month since I started writing. But it's done, (Ha finuto, if you're speaking Italian. That's the only phrase I actually remember.) and I really feel good about it.

That's all I can say right now. I'm definitely not posting anything else about it (as to not actually give away any of the plot). But I'm after I go through it two or three more times and have a few people I trust look at it, I'm going to try to get some agents on game because I believe that it's what black cinema needs, a black movie that shows us in a light away from the negative images constantly cast into society.

I've got plenty of work to do now. But I think the hard part is over. My thoughts are actually flushed out on paper, and it feels amazing!

The Big Forehead

2007-08-11T23:28:00.000-05:00

Tyra Banks once served as a standard, the most beautiful woman in the world on an average day.

I never understood it. On her best days, in her best shoots, her head often took the shape of one of the aliens that nearly took over the world in the film Independence Day, a look that never appealed to me.

I couldn’t understand it. How could someone with a lopsided, melon-shaped head be the most attractive woman in the world? A big cranium surely should be the downfall of a woman’s looks. Not the beckoning call of her beauty. I mean, these are the same girls we call “bighead” in the fifth grade. How did they become God’s gift to man?

Then I started to think. Almost every woman I’d give a score higher than an 8 had one thing in common: the patented Tyra forehead.

Some were symmetrical, and others well, they were imperfect like Tyra’s. But for some unfounded reason, I still found them to be the ones who I endeared myself to most often.

So I decided to make a list of the plausible reasons men are innately attracted to the big forehead like the female peacock is to the male with the most beautiful array of feathers.

No. 1: Most of the girls I know with big heads are smart. Maybe there’s some sort of correlation to smarts and the actual size of the head.

No. 2: It’s nearly impossible to screw up the forehead kiss.

No. 3: If you somehow screw up the forehead kiss, you can blame it on the fact that you had entirely too much head to find the perfect spot to place the peck.

No. 4: If someone calls your woman big headed (full of herself), you can actually take that as a compliment.

No. 5: Because Tyra Banks has one. Anything Tyra has, we men seem to be attracted to it.

No. 6: If you get one of these women to fall in love with you, you’ve got a leg up on the rest of us because these aliens are about to take over the world.

Real Man of Genius

2007-08-10T00:52:00.001-05:00

Chris Rock is genius. Okay, maybe a comedic genius. See, the way he frames serious issues in a satirical way is a gift, an art. Rock forces you to think about these matters in a manner no one would otherwise see.

In one of his best rants, he chastises the presidency for creating societal fodder in various incidents to keep our “minds off the war.” He jokes that Bush sent the girl to Kobe’s room in Colorado; that Bush was responsible for Lacy Peterson’s death; and that Bush sent that little boy to the Neverland Ranch.

Oddly, it’s almost an accurate portrayal of our American society, and I wonder how this affects the attention we devote toward the issues that should garner the majority of our attention.

Here’s a sample.

Paris goes to jail. Lindsay Lohan racks up her 37^th DUI. Don Imus uses the term “nappy headed ho.” Isaiah Washington says the word “faggot” in reference to a co-worker. Eddie Murphy attempts to be the biggest star needing to take a seat on Maury Povich’s couch.

There are a million quasi-important things we can – and do – indulge in daily. Rarely, do we ever focus on the most important issues. Rarely, do the idiocy and buffoonery we pay so much attention actually take their proper place.

Along State Line Road, a street which separates Kansas and Missouri, sits a house with a slew of American flags in its yard. I haven’t stopped to count seeing that might cause a wreck.

Thankfully, there’s a number in the yard representing the flags’ meaning. This number changes with the growing death toll of American soldiers in our Middle East conflicts.

That number is above 3,000. If you haven’t noticed, that total is greater than the number who passed on 9/11/2001 in New York City and Washington D.C. And for what? Because we “received faulty information about weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.“

Back here on the home front, we’re more consumed with making sure Paris Hilton remains in lockdown for her full sentence and what she has to say afterward on Larry King Live.

A few weeks ago, Michael Vick was indicted on federal dog-fighting charges, and things started to fall in a unique, but weird perspective. I realized our federal government and our American society have made it a high priority to pursue people who fight dogs rather than aid issues of far greater importance (and I’m not saying this shouldn’t have some importance at all). But it has snowballed into our next great not-so-veiled racial debate. White and black are somehow pointing fingers at each other at protests outside of Atlanta Falcons training camp over Michael Vick and dogs, a topic deserving of its own discussion.

You could drown in the coverage of Vick and his alleged mishaps. And it’s not going away anytime soon.

This got me thinking: Maybe Chris Rock was right. Maybe the feds really do create things people will deem important to keep what should be at the heart of the public perspective at bay. Then I thought again: “That’s impossible. The federal government wouldn’t do that.”

Then I remembered, this is the same federal government that is in its fifth year of pursuing Barry Bonds, the famed baseball player who just broke this country’s most hallowed sports record. Really, how long, and how much tax-payer money, does it take to figure out whether or not someone told a white lie? That should be the beginning of a bad joke, not societal fodder.

But it is, and it’s what we talk about. And because we banter about such frivolous things that are put before us by a dollar-driven media and the government, the number I occasionally drive by on State Line Road continues growing. And Chris Rock’s words seem more ingenious.

We’ll Never Be … (Just Friends)

2007-08-07T13:33:00.001-05:00

The truth was a subtitle scribed
in a pen filled with ink of sin
It was two words: just friends.
Though we pretend that’s all we can be
Behind this veil we call reality,
I can tell there’s more than this fallacy
But we continue to feed each other
That’s why we’ll never be …
Just Friends

Next of kin is what I feel when I’m with you
Can’t pretend there’s not a fire and we’re both moths
Addicted to an ever-burning flame,
Still claiming we could never be more than friends.
Yet and still, we’re back at it.
And you’re telling me that I can have it,
Any way I want it.
But today, I don’t want it.
Yet there’s no way to stop me
From getting on it
Because it’s already enveloped me
Like a postmarked love letter
Sealed with a forbidden bit of bliss
And once our lips meet, there’s no turning back
From what we came to get.
You reach your high,
And I come, too.
Then we start to reminisce about the good ole days
Like only lovers would do.

Now I start to think, but not aloud
Surely there’s more to offer than just this,
Fuck friends, because we’re fucking friends
And when friends fuck, they can’t be fucking friends.
So I guess we’ll never be … just friends.
So what are we supposed to be?
Maybe we aren’t to be
Wonder what you’d say if these thoughts came out of me
So I found my pen, and made love to a letter entitled:
We’ll Never Be …
Free unless we truly express what we feel,
And stop concealing what we need to reveal to ourselves

2007-08-04T21:50:00.001-05:00

Barry finally got there. Seven-hundred, fifty-five home runs. I've got a lot to say on this issue.

I'll be back, shortly with more. I'm watching the game right now, and trying to concentrate.

Are Dogs More Important Than People?

2007-08-01T00:56:00.001-05:00

I went out with two vastly different sets of friends on succeeding days last week. Last Thursday, I ended up out with some newspaper colleagues and on Friday I went to happy hour with some of my fraternity brothers and other friends.

One topic came up during both outings, Michael Vick and dogfighting. One of my newspaper colleagues, a white male, nearly came to tears when speaking about the incidents described in the indictment. Likening dogs to children, he couldn't believe someone could be so blatantly cruel to a helpless animal. Conversely, the other party, a mostly black contingency, concurred with a unifying theme: "they're just dogs."

During the last week or so, I've been listening intently to the different arguments on both sides of this issue on a national level, and most of those people pontificating on this subject don't believe that this has anything to do with race. But after thinking it through, I believe race is at this saga's center.

Before I continue, I have to say that in no way do I condone anything related to the slayings/killings of animals for shear enjoyment. Aside for self defense, killing is wrong. If Mike Vick or any of his co-defendants were involved in the activities depicted in the indictment they deserve to be punished accordingly.

That said, we live in a world where greyhound dogs are raced on a track, and betting is legally allowed. The greyhounds that don't run up to the standards of their owners are often put down or killed. There are piles of put-down racing dogs behind veterinary offices outnumbering those found buried on Mike Vick's property.

We also live in a world where people hunt and kill deer for the sheer enjoyment of the "sport," and hang the deer heads on their walls as trophies. These things are legal.

Why? I'm certain that most keen black people in America will tell you because it's something that rich white men deem appropriate and socially acceptable.

But barbaric dog fighting is bottom barrel and inexcusable (and it should be along with killing greyhounds because they don't run fast and hunting animals for enjoyment). PETA, the Humane Society and the government officials who speak out against the idea of people doing such egregious things to animals need to be making a simultaneous push right now against all of these sanctioned entities of animal cruelty just as vigorously as they are pursuing Mike Vick.

But they won't. You know why? Because these things make rich white men richer.

One of my black friends brought up an interesting point toward the end of the conversation.

"I think Vick is definitely in the wrong," he said. "But you know what it looks like this witch hunt says about America? It looks like white people care more about dogs than they do about black people. I mean, there are so many other things that the federal government should be concerned about. Not making Michael Vick the poster boy for dog fighting."

A few interesting statistics I saw in a story the other day: 40 percent of those incarcerated are black males. Four percent of those in college are black males. Now, who is to blame for these facts?

It makes you understand why there seems to be a racial divide on this issue.

Day dreaming, and I'm thinking of you ...

2007-07-24T18:00:00.000-05:00

Yo, people. I've been doing a little writing. Here's a small sample of something I'm working on... It's the start of this screenplay idea that's working through my mind and onto my laptop slowly but surely. Here's a sample.

WADE
It’s when you start dreaming with your eyes open, that’s when you really begin living.

JAY
A wet dream, right? That’s what you’re talking about? (Jay laughs, Wade smirks but isn't amused) For real, that’s about the only type of dream I want to experience awake.

WADE
You need to find some way to get the sewage out of your mind.

JAY
Wade, please. You act like you’re holier than thou. Last time I checked, which was about three minutes ago, you were determining whether or not that breezy over there was questionable or probable for a late night extravaganza.

WADE
But what does that have to do with what I’m talking about? (JAY shrugs his shoulders) Right. I’m on a serious tip. I feel like I’m having a midlife crisis, man.

JAY
You’re like 25, so unless you want to die a young corpse at 50, you might want to rephrase that to “quarter-life quandary.”

WADE
Quarter-life, mid life, I just know I don’t want to spend every day of my damn life waking up at seven a.m. to get to a job where I begrudgingly sit behind a desk, typing and responding to e-mails that end with exclamation points, only to come home with just enough time to catch two minutes of SportsCenter before I fall asleep and wake up to do the same thing the next day. I want more. Ya know?

JAY
Yeah, I know what you mean. You start feeling like a zombie.

WADE
And I’m not spending the best years of the rest of my life sleep walking. I need to live.

JAY
Then you need to find a few dreams to live for – a wet one and a real one. (they both laugh)

WADE
I couldn't agree more.

Don't Get it Twisted

2007-07-18T22:20:00.000-05:00

Just because I sometimes spell Vic Damone, Jr. "Vick," please don't think I started that to have any affiliation with the idiocy that is now known as Michael Vick, veteran quarterback of the Atlanta Falcons and currently No. 1 enemy of PETA.

If you haven't heard about Vick's latest mishap, you've been hiding under a boulder somewhere, maybe in Colorado.

Vick, for all intensive purposes, is done. He may play football this season, but he may also find himself playing for the gridiron gang in the federal penitentiary. He was indicted yesterday by a federal grand jury on charges surrounding his alleged ties to the dog-fighting subculture.

I was watching ESPN when the news came down. My first thought: "Man would it be hilarious if ESPN had given him a slot in its Who's NOW bracket. He certainly would get ousted by the fans because he's done."

But he wasn't a part of the bracket. But that I checked to see should tell you how majorly crazy this is. In Black America (especially the South), this is the equivalent to Martha Stewart being indicted and heading off to the slammer.

Mike Vick is the Atlanta Falcons. He personfie(d)s a sense of cool. He's one of Nike's front men. He's on the cover of one of the past editions of Madden. It makes little sense that he got himself in such a precarious situation. I guess this saying is true, an idiot with money is worse off than an idiot without.

When you make that much money and are as high-profile a name and figure as Mike Vick, there are things you just cannot do - and being involved in illegal dogfighting is one of them.

When you get his type of notoriety you go to work, red carpet events and then home. That's it. You don't go Nate Newton and get caught with nearly as much marijuana as your playing weight.

You don't make it rain in strip clubs and cause unnecessary drama to unfold ala Pacman.

And you surely don't, especially if you're as big as Mike Vick is, get brought down like this. That said, there's a better chance that Barry Bonds get to 850 home runs than Mike Vick runs for another 1,000 yards in his NFL career.

The Feds are going to make an example of him, and it sucks. But then again, maybe the ignorant sector of Black America wakes from the slumber its been in since Laurence Fishburne's character in School Daze yelled at the top of its lungs.

"WAKE UP!"

Your heart is true ...

2007-07-09T21:03:00.000-05:00

I've become a bad blogger. I used to give you two to three posts a week. Then life kind of happened. It was already going on, but I just kinda got mad busy. But anyways, as always, I'm going to try to be better about this.

Here are a few thoughts running through my mind:

I loved Transformers and Ratatouille, though the later bothered me some when it first started. Ratatouille is the movie about the cooking rat, but it started off as though it were about a family of rats who were black slaves in the 1800s with references to rats "not being able to read" and the rats taking a trip on an "underground" waterway. I wonder if anyone else noticed this. Beyond that it was a good film.
-------

I had two very drunken encounters this week, one was justifiable. On Independence Day, I forgot to eat before I started drinking, and that led to black spots in my evening and a two-day hangover. Ugh.

I swore off alcohol for at least a month. But I didn't last 72 hours.

On Saturday, seven of the nine of my line brothers (or pledge class) were in Kansas City. A few of us got together, and it was an ignorant, but great time. I felt like I didn't have much of a choice but to enjoy the time with the fellas. At least I ate, and didn't have any semblance of a hangover when I woke up the next morning.

The one bad thing I did do was have a Red Bull and Vodka. I think I only got two hours of sleep before I woke up and couldn't fall back into my slumber.

No matter, though. I'm still taking a prolonged break from alcohol. Approximately, a month.
-----

One of my good friends ended an AIM conversation with me last night by typing "thank you for being a friend."

She was in a bad moment, and I didn't want to laugh, but I couldn't help it because the theme song to the Golden Girls started running through my mind.

Hopefully you get the title because of this last bit. If you didn't, good for you. That means you had your head in a book and probably didn't watch too much television as a child as I did.

Karaoke is for the birds

2007-07-02T00:53:00.000-05:00

I went karaoking with a group of friends on Friday night. I've only done karaoke twice before. On both occasions, I was ridiculously drunk and that fact aided in my screwing up a couple of good songs - Kanye's Gold Digger and the timeless classic, Marvin Gaye's Let's Get It On.

On Friday, I thought that if I monitored my adult beverage intake and only got tipsy before it was my turn, I'd be able to have the gall to do it and still be sober enough not to embarrass myself.

Boy, was I wrong - about the embarrassing part.

I chose an extremely safe song. Kanye's All Falls Down. I've been singing along to this tune since it dropped in February of 2004. I know every word. Every ad-lib. It was a lock, right? WRONG.

The song started so quickly. I expected to hear the chorus ("Oh, when it all ... all falls down") like I heard a million times to introduce the song. It never came.

So there I stood, looking at the words change colors on the karaoke machine's screen, and nothing was coming out. I felt like 50 Cent during the 2007 BET Awards.

I would post the link to my silence, but then I'd be embarrassing myself on the Internet. I recovered, like 50, and got through the second and third verses without pause. But I felt so bad that I kept drinking.

Next thing I know, I'm singing lead to R. Kelly's Bump N' Grind to close the evening out. And no, I didn't mess it up. I finally found a song I can karaoke to and not screw up.

2007-06-27T18:11:00.000-05:00

Something going through my head right now: The way is a path emblazoned by a light that will blind you if you're not prepared. But making a blind walk is often better than making a drunken trek down a trail already traveled. I'll take unknown road every time.

JUST (DON'T) DO IT

2007-06-24T02:50:00.000-05:00

To any spouse, girlfriend or boyfriend who is considering murdering your significant other:

This is an open entry to you. I'm not going to take too long in making this point, but I feel like it's one that definitely needs to be made somewhere. If you are pondering the idea of killing your spouse, stop now. Don't follow through with that dumb-ass thought. You cannot get away with it, and I'm going to tell you why.

Over the last 25 years of my life, I've seen plenty of episodes of Unsolved Mysteries, America's Most Wanted, CSI and Forensic Files. I watched the OJ chase and case live in the mid-90s. I lived through the whole Laci Peterson ordeal.

All of these things have taught me this simple fact of life: you are an absolute idiot if you think you're going to kill your spouse/significant other and get away with it.

You have a better chance of taking HGH and steroids and hitting 74 home runs in a single 162-game season than you do of getting away with killing your spouse/homey-lover friend.

Don't be an demented idiot like Bobby Cutts, Jr., who allegedly killed his girlfriend and mother of his two-year-old son and likely his unborn daughter. If you're having Cutts-like thoughts, push them out of your mind.

You will be the No. 1 suspect, and you will go down. More over, you will ruin the lives of your children, if you have any, and cause plenty of undue stress to all involved.

That's all. My prayers go out to the Davis family and to Bobby Cutts wife and children.

dmansmi

I know, I know ...

2007-06-22T13:26:00.000-05:00

I know I owe you all a little something. I've had a pretty tough week, so I've been lacking for words, something that normally isn't a problem for me.

I think I want to move. It's weighing heavily on me right now. But I'm almost certain that's what I want to do. Don't know where just yet. But it's a thought. I'm in a good position to make it happen, too.

I've started hashing out an outline an plot for this story I'm calling Tryangles. The title is a reference to the quadry that is the love triangle, and all of the different perspectives that must be considered in said situation. We'll see if I find the drive to bust my butt on it.

My i-Pod is over 3000 songs for the first time (after crashing about 24 times while on the way to the 3000 benchmark).

Okay, that's all for the moment. I don't think I have anything else. Ill check back in tomorrow.

Holla.

I Am Enthralled

2007-06-17T19:24:00.000-05:00

Y'all I know how I get when it comes to good music (see the end of the last post).

So to jump-off this week, I've got some exciting news. I'm feeling this Chrisette Michele. I found her new album online this weekend, and have been bumping it like I was at the amusement park (sans 50 Cent) and just tall enough to cause some carnage during a bumper car session.

Chrisette Michele's I Am is an oxygen-machine full of fresh air in the congested, carbon-monoxide heavy mess that is black music today. If you love music the way I do, I definitely recommend dropping by your Best Buy or Target, or wherever you purchase your music, and picking up this gem.

Chrisette, a DefJam jewel who can be heard on Jay-Z's "Lost Ones" and a few tracks on Nas' Hip Hop is Dead, kicks the party off with "Like A Dream," a classy ditty about meeting the right person at the right time.

There's the current single "If I Have My Way," which is a ballad reminiscent of Alicia's best, but also hearkens you back to a time where Anita and Whitney owned our hearts.

Chrisette provides an abundance of great music and vocals, but there's nothing like "Let's Rock," a song that I think will easily be the favorite of most who hear the album. It takes simplicity being a fine line between elegance and plainness to a level of beauty unseen to most eyes. It has the feel of the perfect stepper's groove (so watch out, I'll request it).

Her voice's flow makes you want to dust off the Nancy Wilson, and kick back with that special someone. The lyrics are simplistic, never reaching for something that's not there. Her voice is harmonic-balancing Neo (not Ne-yo) to Keyshia Cole's (and this is not an insult) Agent Smith, light, but somehow full of substance and unmistakable soul. A soul that might help define that it sound so many of us have been searching for in a new vocalist for quite sometime.

I am loving it. I am enthralled. I haven't felt this good about an album since John Legend dropped Get Lifted, and before then it was Musiq Soulchild's debut (I'm not looking up the official title, he shoulda just spelled it right). Chrisette, this is the way love feels.

I started to title this post, "I Am Engaged," but thought better of it. That would have setoff some serious ignorance.

Also listening to:

Tank's Sex, Love & Pain
T-Pain's Epiphany
Carl Thomas' So Much Better
Hidden Beach Recordings' Unwrapped 1-4
Fabulous' From Nothin' to Somethin'
Joe's Ain't Nothin' Like Me

Find Yourself in Mizz-ery

2007-06-16T12:30:00.000-05:00

When I woke on Tuesday, I felt like being an absolute bum. I really didn't want to leave the crib, but I had to work. Taking full advantage of my J.O.B's dress rules, I promptly through on some mesh basketball shorts, a long-sleeve Mizzou tee and a Mizzou cap.

I flew under the radar for most of the day, no one saying much of anything about my attire. Then a co-worker with similar name as mine (drop the d), who went to that school across the west border known as KU, came up to me and said the following:

"Will you go ahead and clean that bird shit off of your chest and hat."

I didn't even look to see if a bird had shat (shitted, which is it I don't know) on me. I knew what he was referencing. He kept walking, and within three minutes he was back in my office, headed toward me with a roll of toilet paper.

I already knew what he was going to say ("This is for you to clean yourself up with."), but better yet, how I'd respond.

I happily took the toilet paper from him. I waited until 5 p.m., when most of my co-workers left, and then went and TP'd his desk with the ammunition he gave me. Yes, it seems like a high school prank, but we try to keep it fun in our office.

He had a hell of a time cleaning up the mess I left for him the next morning when he got there at 7 a.m.
-------
Another co-worker came up to me on Friday and told me that he wanted me to come holler at him at his desk. I did, like an hour later, and watched as he opened a desk drawer with about 150 albums in it.

He gave me access to them all. I damn near cried. You know how much I love music.