WONDER WHAT HEMMINGWAY WOULD MAKE OF THE TIMES

This time is different.  It certainly feels different.

Personally, several “allies” have reached out to me and offered their condolences and apologies for the systemic issues that have been highlighted in the killings of Ahmed Aubrey, George Lloyd, and Breona Taylor (and her boyfriend) recently.  I spoke sincerely with each one (including my  once and current partner) and I was left feeling better about myself and the world.  That is my OBJECTIVE perspective.  PERSONALLY… Well, this IS a journal about my wanderings in this “whatever” that we call reality, so let’s get to it!

Of COURSE, the George Lloyd incident, like with the Ahmed Aubrey incident, landed in my wheelhouse.  If I could see myself as Aubrey, you HAVE to know that I, too, am George Lloyd in a way that is way more direct and personal than claiming to “be” him in a spiritual way.  In fact, visiting my “old” new girlfriend, I had a moment at the gas station across the street from her apartment complex that could have easily lent itself to the possibility of a similar incident here in Omaha.

I had only finished working (at the Papillion Landing Rec Center) and had rode about 6 miles from work to the gas station. Processing my surroundings as I adjusted to a new and unfamiliar route, I had not eaten or had anything to drink for most of the day.  In fact, that is what drove me to stop at the gas station.  A piece of candy and a non-carbonated drink was on my mind and then the fog would be lifted.  Only I had not finished my transaction.

My bank card was due a replacement, which I did not know that at the time.  Because of my stupor, I was unresponsive to the cashier and there was a line forming behind me.  When I finally understood that my card was declining, the guy who was behind me had simply paid for my purchase.  I thanked him and took my leave.  It was not until I had sat down and had a drink or two of the sweet tea and a piece of the candy I bought from the gas station that I was able to understand what had just taken place.  The similarity was close… of course this was in Omaha and not Minneapolis, but I don’t know how different Omaha IS from Minneapolis.  My partner has already expressed her concern for me, this coming right after the Aubrey incident.  Now here I was, zoning out at a convenience store that may be similar to the one that George Lloyd was in… hell, I don’t know.  Yet, as Louis CK once opined, “...but MMMAAAYYBBEEE…”, which is the position I would have been in.  At least as far as the narrative would have gone… “he should not have been trying to pass an invalid debit card off when trying to make a purchase”.

So, yeah.  There has been that.  Still have not had the courage to go back out and run since Ahmed was shot and now I do wonder when I will go to the next quick stop for a snack.  These are among the considerations that you have to make when you are African-American, and in the Lloyd case, it does not matter if your path crosses that of a member of another minority.  YOU, the African American, in this country because your ancestors were STOLEN from their homeland… you are always and still, THE OTHER.

As I mentioned at the start, the conversations and ACTIONS of others in my circle are what gives me hope that this time, this will be different.  I can only hope that the impact within the African-American community can not only be strong, but long-lasting.  We should be ACCORDED respect… it is not something that should be asked for, as a member of society and as a human being.  The look of indifference on Officer Chavous' face as he consciously choked the life out of George Lloyd is haunting.  But it is also the look of indifference that many White Americans have of African-Americans.  Though every group can speak of their own slights within American society, African-Americans, have grievances that shadows the country like no other (yeah, I know about the Native Americans… this is NOT that story).

When I think about the last time there was a social uproar like this, the Rodney King riots, there was more distance from the act itself… the riots were in response to the officers getting away  with little damage, not the beating.  This time, the reaction went hand in hand with the incident of grievance.  That this was seen by everyone who had eyes to see it for what it was, the snuffing out of a life, has kept the dialogue up in the social consciousness for a longer time.

I am not sure if this means that there will be changes to policing, insofar as how they deal with the various communities that they serve.  To me, “to serve and protect” has always meant that the ones who were “served and protected” were the white, elite classes of people.  It has never meant what it is widely assumed to mean, to serve and protect the public at large.  KRS-One once made a rap about “the sound of the police” and in his lyrics he blurred the word “overseer” into “officer”, hinting that officers of the law are more the enforcer of rules provided by the plantation owner, not the people.  The only line of demarcation that exists in mankind is the line between the have and have nots.  It is on the level of institution, not individual, that needs to be shaken.

MEANWHILE, IN OTHER NEWS

Yes, Kitty and I are a couple again.  Even though I did have a brief interaction with another person, Kitty and I have always had open lines of communication and I believe that the both of us have grown over the past year.  We have talked about some of what was not constructive in our relationship and I have been assured that we will be able to talk through everything between us as we move ahead.

I have always been leery of the “chip off the old block” stuff.  There are so many qualities and reasons for behaviour that I have felt that it was lazy to attribute things to your parents.  Statements like, “You are just like your father/mother…” seem to lack imagination, and the vague notion that you are not yourself but owe your character to a force outside of yourself would devalue the notion of free will (which, I do not believe in!).  While I know that my other daughters have heard the “you are just like…” statement made after doing or saying something that their Mom thinks I would have said, KT, is sooo much like me that it stills my heart.

The last couple of years we have spent HOURS on the phone talking about life, her ups and downs, and of course… BOYS!  I am very flattered that she considers me a best friend and confidant, and I do try to excise detail from conversations with her Mom about our conversations, so that she can feel secure in sharing with me.  When her Mom pushes for more information, I usually fall back on, “you know that I don’t remember more than that!”, which in itself is a “true half-truth” statement.  If anything, I hope that she gets a chance to visit when the restrictions are lifted and she can spend a couple of weeks with me.

I am about to begin the book, “Can’t Hurt Me”, by David Goggins.  He is a guy who went through three elite military programs run by the Air Force, Army, and Navy.  It talks about his journey from a place of aimlessness to where he is able to compete in ultramarathons and other feats of toughness for charity and the simple sense of personal accomplishment.  One of the reasons that I am back to journaling, is that I need personal accountability that comes with regular journaling.  Which brings me to the next step on my journey… REGULAR JOURNALING.

The drama of the everyday, “the trifles of life”, is not what I want to talk about.  Instead, I want to write and talk about how I can be better at my Rock Steady franchise, be a better person and set goals to achieve.  I wonder how many people who started reading my journal really thought that the guy with traumatic brain injury was REALLY going to move to Omaha and thrive..?  Doesn’t matter, because I ALWAYS BELIEVED in me! 

JUST ANOTHER ENTRY IN AN APPARENTLY LONG-RUNNING SERIES OF ENTRIES

TACTICAL


Well now… if you were to ask me, Sandra Bland’s death is more of a sign of the coming “race war” than anything else that has happened with intent to inflame a social crisis than anything else recently. The “lone wolf” actions of cats like Dylan Roof in South Carolina and Mohammod Youssuf Abdulazeez in Tennessee, while tragic and despicable, have more to do with the psychosis that took place in their own mind. In fact, I think that those two cats, and those of similar ilk, have more in common with guys like “The Son of Sam” (and I am working with the characterization of “Sam” in this Spike Lee joint). The reason that is behind my claim is Sandra Bland, who was an African-American female, demonstrates how vulnerable we are as a group to the influence of the White Supremacy Dynamic that controls and influence virtually all global human activities.

(Descends from soapbox) Alas, the African-American diaspora is one that has continued to be disenfranchised, from the sailing of the first slave ship from Africa. There has never been a unified, cohesive, body politic, that represented a shared social standard, certainly not one to have been feared. Even when united and armed rebellion was the goal, (Dred Scott, the Black Panther Party), between apathy, fear, and self-interest, there was no real sense that the system of oppression was going to be altered in a dramatic way.

There was an photo array of Minnesota Viking running back Adrian Peterson titled, “Adrian Peterson Looks Like A Real Life Action Figure” in AOL Sports recently. In the photos taken of “A.D.” at training camp, he certainly seems to resembles a life-sized “He-Man” action figure. Now THAT is what I am working toward!! I am going to try to get this photo enlarged or something, maybe set it as my computer background for motivation.

It is the end of July and the “what are you going to do in August” alarm has gone off. Do I really want to go back to school? I allow myself to let the “inner Pinky” ask the question, so that “the Brain” can reply, “We are going to do the same thing we’ve always done in August, we are going to go back to school.” One of the reasons that I know that it is time to get my “game face” on, is that I have been sleeping later, not even buzzed to get out of bed. For me, sleeping in has always meant that there was an uncomfortable restlessness shadowing me. That is as clear a sign there is to me that there are things for me to do, plans for me to make, preparations to be reinforced, and a goal to be achieved.

As far as Lexxie is concerned, I am going to have to say that she won’t be coming to Omaha this year. Not going to give up on getting her out west one day, but I don’t think that it will be this summer that she visits me.

Finally, it seems that the Cosby myth is completely shattered. The one woman who leaked details from her case took a brave stand on releasing the deposition from her involvement with Cosby. Whether or not she receives any punitive actions against her, the revelation should be lauded as a public service (and I am aware of the possible hypocrisy here with my comments… thank you very much!). But this guy has been a douche for a long time… and he dared to admonish people about behavior and character..?  He was willing to throw his OWN DAUGHTER under the bus to save his reputation!!

....THE SAFETY OF WHO YOU ARE…

“An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.” - G.K. Chesterton

I rode Madison out to Village Pointe the other day, which is west of me by about 135 streets. My bike computer said that I rode about 60 miles when it was all said and done, between stopping and watering up, and a little shopping, I was out for about 8 hours!! When I finally made it home, I was feeling not only the high from the physical exertion, but I was just giddy from being in Omaha. 

Looking back at where I have come from isn’t something that I am prone to do. I am no longer bedeviled (if I was ever) by my past, and I can look forward to the things that I hope for. The micro-story that I found on the “I Wrote This For You” blog gave me pause to do some “goat thinking” about the people who find themselves wanting things in their life, but unable to muster the courage to, not attempt to go after their desires, but, rather than reconcile their choices and accept/affirm them, look outward and declare how “unfair” life seems to be to them. At no time do they think about anyone else and how their pursuit of their own life’s hopes drove them to act, but lament on how things were “given” to those who were “blessed”.

I am a big fan of agency. No matter what is going on, the individual is the one who is at the center of their own “atomic structure”. There are times where I think how good it feels to be where I am today, and that I was able to get here primarily on my strength of will. The harder and more focused I became, the more fortunate (the well-timed gift from I've received from friends, for example) I found myself. But I never took anything for granted.

Maybe the it is a lack of gratitude that keeps those who “die while living” from actually living and experiencing life. I had hoped to take a selfie of Madison and myself out at Village Point, and I did snap a couple of shots of us at 168th & Blondo… but the reason I did not get one at Village Point is the same reason that I don’t have pictures of most of the places I have bee… I was submerged in the moment and it really never occurred to me to memorialize my ride. After all, I KNOW that I rode for nearly 8 hours and that I went out to the western exurbs of Omaha… why do I need a picture to remind me that I took my bike for a long ride..? 

Yep… that is the main reason (along with not being particularly photogenic) I don’t do pictures… I think that I will miss more by losing the moment to take a picture than I would gain from worrying about getting a good photo. And when I go out again the next time, it won’t be as unique, so why worry about one then?

FILLING SPACE

TACTICAL

A few weeks ago I got a text from KT and her Mom.  It seems that they were having a conversation about KT’s heritage and our daughter has it in her head that she is “mixed”.  Her reasoning being that her father is half-white and she leans a more to the “black” in her!  I had a good laugh and it made me smile knowing that I am a part of their conversation and in KT’s thoughts.  The self-deprecating humor of the comment was not lost upon me, because my non-conforming character has always meant that my “authentic blackness” would be called into question.  Then the Rachel Dolezal story broke.

If you get my feed on Facebook, then you may know that I was captivated by her story.  Jezebel had an article on Ms. Dolezal and it brought tears of laughter to my eyes as I read it the Saturday morning after the story first broke..  I had never heard of anyone ever claiming to be African-American when they weren’t, and the anguish of “passing”, immortalized by the book and movies (there were TWO of them!!) of the same name, “Imitation of Life”, is at the root of the issues between light and dark-skinned African-Americans.  For Ms. Dolezal, this seemed to be an obsession of sorts for her, as her parents indicated her fascination with African-American culture in her youth.  After her parents adopted 4 African-American children, her obsession took her into an entirely unforeseen direction.

Maybe part of Rachel’s desire to leave behind her whiteness could have been due to the upbringing she endures.  Her claims of abuse notwithstanding, I have often  been given to ruminate on dysfunction in the social systems of families where faith is a critical component to the philosophy of how a family lives.  This is not to say that only religious families suffer from these kind of social and intra-family breaks from standard.  You could substitute “faith” for  “ignorance” and pretty much find a similar kind of problem within a family.  When I was a child, the saying “follow an ugly child home and watch an ugly parent open the door”, could have been just as easily be substituted with the word “stupid” or “ignorant”.  In fact, the PRIDE within a social community on their lack of intellect or desire of the pursuit of knowledge is one that simply staggers the mind.

...MEANWHILE

Still haven’t been able to confirm travel dates for Lexxie.  Going through her Mom is difficult, as she harbors an ill-will towards me.  There have been times where discussions have been smooth, but more often than not, she get angry and jumps the track, which unsurprisingly, leaves us with nothing accomplished.

I am progressing nicely towards my goal of lifting 1200lbs between my deadlift, bench press, and squat.  After I do that, my next fitness goal will be to find my legs and get back onto a regular running schedule.  I will do more cardio, adding kettlebell swings and combo exercises with lighter weights. And I expect to take my certification test in July, mid-August at the latest.

And that is that with that..!

HAS THE POST-RACIAL AGE ARRIVED..?

AND IT IS NOT SOMETHING THAT IS EXCLUSIVE… BUT WE JUST THINK THAT IT IS

There were two boxers from Mexico years ago who had a super-intense rivalry.  They fought each other three times with both fighters splitting the first two and now the third fight was approaching.  The cliché, “these two guys really don't like each other” was apt, as these two guys did not like each other and fought like it.  In fact, the resemblance to Ali-Frazier rivalry was an equally appropriate comparison, as many of the insult they hurled between each other were not only personal, but on a level that those who were outside of their loop of cultural identification and ethnicity could not adequately understand the hatred these two men had for each other.

African-American’s tend to believe that the experience we have had in America is unique in the sense that no one, not even President Bill Clinton, can feel our collective pain.  Never have I understood the logic… individually, no, I do not think that you can “feel my pain” just as I cannot feel yours.  But it is when it is seen through the macro-perspective, that any sentient being can grasp the pain and injustice that African-Americans have had to endure in America.  But, we are not the only ones who have had to put up with the social injustices and the internecine social contradictions within or ethnic group.  So listening to these two Mexican fighters hurl “yo’ Momma-level” insults at one another, I knew that not only was it personal, but their beef was at a fundamental level of ethnic identity.

In Mexico, there apparently is a slur that indicates you are “a field n*gger”, and the word used here was “Indian”.  You could tell that it was meant to be indicative of a lack of sophistication, understanding and class.  The other fighter was a college graduate and family was renowned in Mexico City, and considered to be a “white Mexican”, and a part of the upwardly mobile class.  But I think that it would be difficult if not impossible, particularly with a brother (or sister) around my age and older, to understand that we are not the only one who “split hairs” amongst ourselves, picking between variations that are only of significance to “us”.  There was a lot of “house n*gger, field n*gger” in the rivalry between Ali and Frazier, and I have always been a “Frazier guy”, because I understood where his frustration came from.  The excellent HBO documentary “One NationDivisible” does a great job in capturing the frustration that Joe Frazierfelt, as the "darky" to Muhmmad Ali's more "true" representation of blackness.  And just as it is with so many things promoted to purport one way of thinking, middle-class Muhammad Ali’s experience was less common than that of Smokin’ Joe’s.  If you were to have measured which one of the two had the more “authentic” black experience, the case is there for Smokin’ Joe to lay claim to that title.  But history tells a different story and while I have all the respect for the greatness of Ali and his amazing legacy, the injustice done to Joe Frazier is one that occurs all too-often.

The Mexican fighters and their fierce dislike for one another confirmed something that I had suspected … that other ethnic groups had their own “Willie Lynch Legends” to account for.  Colorism is not something that we, as African-Americans, own exclusively.  The reason we are not as aware of them as we are of the other myths that exists about each other is that these are things that reside within the family, and that for African-Americans, it was used as pretext to justify the system of white supremacy here in the United States.  For many sisters and brothers, there is no reason to discuss the significance of characteristics that are so second natures that one is not even paying any attention to it… slipping in and out of a role as easily as a Texas native who has spent their adult life in New York quickly falls back into their drawl.  And if they don’t, the kind of cynicism they avail themselves is similar to the incredulity of the cowboys in the Pace Salsa commercial when they learn the stuff they are using was made in New York City.  This dichotomy mostly goes unaddressed within a community, especially when it reveals something inconvenient about the group.

Joe Frazier’s dislike for Muhammad Ali is rooted in something far, far deeper than sports.  Frazier would have fought Ali as hard as he did FOR FREE if Ali had said some of the same things he did to his face AND after he helped him on his feet?  No, this was not about the money or even being a World Champion for Joe Frazier… it was for something that meant far more than just material trinkets and supposed public prestige and riches.  It was about what defined him as a human being and THAT is why he pushed himself to fight Ali to inner reaches of human endurance.  Now that we have taken over the perpetual suppression of African-Americans and their cultural representation in America, we can hate ourselves just fine, thank you very much.  Not only that, just look at how we tear and rend each other’s flesh… no problem, from the nihilism of music to our inconsistent social order, we will be just fine down here in the dregs of society… oops, there is another ethnic group passing us in political and social influence now!  Never mind, we will consume and provide markets for the global corporations from now until the end times really do arrive!!

One of the things about my ramblings, and I feel that I have been repeating this too often (an insecurity, perhaps??) is that I never claimed that this was an exercise in intellectual, academic discussion.  What goes on here is merely the first draft of something that has to be strained and boiled down before it becomes “policy”.  And even with things that are policy and discussed here, it is still open for amending.  And yet, when it comes to frankly discussing racial dynamics, and more importantly, INTRA-racial dynamics, African-Americans tend to close ranks, which would be alright IF as a group, it was to question and consider an issue.  Instead, or so it seems to me, ranks are closed in the same way any dysfunctional group or organization closes ranks (since there was a big story about the Boy Scouts on the radio, we will use them as example) only to protect itself and perceived image, often at the expense of those who either suffer and /or are victims due to institutional neglect.  F*ck that.

The only reason I cannot say that I have never given a sh*t about what “black people” think of me is that I might have had a glimmer of a thought when I was a pre-schooler.  For sure when I got called either “yellow” or “white boy” by a darker hued kid, especially post “Roots”, I gave less a f*ck about what a supposedly “sister” or “brother” called me or referenced me in accordance to what they observed about my skin tone.  If only for the want of an “F-bomb” as a child!  Anywho, the women who feel that my opinions on African-American relationships are somehow invalid because I am now involved with a white woman are simply misguided and closed minded.

First of all, African-Americans are the WORST kind of “colorists” that there are.  Those who are darker, and seem to project the “pro-black agenda” also seem to be the ones who are among the first to “switch” rather than “fight”.  Ain’t that right Kanye?  And I still have not gotten it straight with Michael Jackson (r.i.p), whom conveniently (least to me) developed rosacea when it was alledged that he went in for skin lightening treatments, to say nothing of the “family package” that the Jackson got in plastic surgery…

But see, that is alright.  Just as it is alright with any number of situations and conditions where the definition for “blackness” is conveniently massaged and altered, so that it can include the parts of someone that is celebrated and ignore the “less-than-good” about them. 

Colorism in the African-American community reinforces and internalizes the old Jim Crow rules about segregation, but it comes with a bitter twist. Because it is from the side that I feel that I am standing on, the surprise of the kind of “friendly fire” I have been receiving lately is what makes it seem worse.  “I have met the enemy and it is us,” could have been Pogo talking about the African-American community, but I think I have rambled on long enough about that.  What I hoped to illustrate was the pointlessness and contradiction of African-Americans wanting to dissolve the prejudices held against the group, but alternatively still reinforcing an internal segregation, projecting it outward in a Bizzaro-style ideation that would allow us the social mobility in society while maintaining a “racial integrity”, where we only mated and loved other AA’s.

                         

AND WHY THERE IS NO “TACTICAL”?

Because it is going to be a part of my wrap-up of this particular thought trend.  This has been a long week, and for me, dealing with what is at the heart of this for me, whether “Miss What’s Happening” happens to be white (as Princess is) or African-American is actually among the secondary factors in determining who I would want to be with.

AM I THINKING TOO DEEPLY?

CONFIRMATION BIAS..?


There is a movie that was released this year, sort of controversial called, ‘The Help’.  The main problem, or so it seemed to me, with the movie and the book it was base on, was that it was written by a white authoress and she was describing an experience that incorporated what many people of color consider ‘proprietary experience knowledge’.  Apparently, she comments from the perspective of the black domestics perspective and I would read reviews that were both positive and from others who took a dim view of the movie.  A blogger gave their opinion of the movie, which was one that was uniformly positive.  I don’t think I was too blunt or negative in my reply but the blogger who saw it is pretty clever and they picked up on something in my comment and THEY gave it a critique.


Because my opinion of the movie relied was ‘sourced’, which is to say that I listened to and read reviews of the movie.  In their reply, it was found surprising that I would let someone else make a judgment for me.  I then asked myself if I was guilty of letting someone make my opinion for me in regard to the movie, “The Help”.


First, several of the reviews that I have sampled of the movie, "The Help" seemed to be fair and objective, as they did not shy away from the controversy that the film stirred up.  What the reviews did do was make me question the capability of those who were telling the story.  If you can’t find the trust in the storyteller, what can you make of their story?  Not being familiar with the creative people behind the movie, I had my doubts about whether they could handle some of the subject matter that comes with a movie set in that time in American history.




Okay, solving for that, what is the next preconception I would have against the movie.  As much as I pick at the Tea Bags for their ‘misremembering’ and general dumbing down of history to fit a particular narrative (I’m lookin’ at YOU Sarah Palin..!), the same kind of crap goes on in liberal circles as well.  That I took in reviews of the movie is not simply giving away the responsibility of forming my own opinion by not experiencing the book or movie on my own.  After all, the purpose of criticism is to help us reach a conclusion, am I right?  We hope that the opinions are objective and free from bias, but that is not always the case.  Which is why I try to get both perspectives, the objective one and the one that represents ‘the other side of the story’ (which exists in objective opinion, according to Chris Wallace of Fox News!), to help me form what I will accept as ‘my’ own thoughts and opinion.


To me, it is no different from writing a research paper.  You make a claim and then you go on to support your ideas, balancing your perspective against possible arguments and then reinforcing your main idea.  Up to now, everything is still up in the air, though I still have reservations that begins with the possible revision of the events that may be in ‘The Help’ story.


Liberals are not immune from the guilt of ‘the white man’s burden’.  Some of the things that has gone on between blacks and whites in America has included a lot of well-meaning people doing some of the crappiest things.  Who is to say that with the ‘holes’ open in the storyline by respectable review sources that the authoress isn’t guilty of ‘fudging’ here and there?  Besides the questions that I would have about the portrayal of the racial dynamic, then there is the ‘women good and unfairly oppressed, men bad and vengeful’ aspect.  In the same way that it is hard for some people to accept that a white woman can tell a story from the black perspective, the story that provides an experience that is within the realm of experience, the inequality that white women lived beneath during that time.  Who’s to say that there wasn’t a little poetic license taken for the purpose to gloss over events, and in doing so, reframe the discussion?


So far we have discussed my sources that helped me arrive at my opinion, from the blog entry that drew out my comment, the possible skills of the creative people behind the film project, and to the possible political-social influences that may factor into the storyline.  Now if that wasn’t enough, let get to the actresses themselves.  


Looking at the commercials, there were a couple of actresses who I have seen work before and I unimpressed by their talents.  And now we have found the straw that stirs my drink!  Weighing all this and still being a little undecided on if I think the film is worth my time, that there are performers who does not impress me as actors.  So now your really have a cat who is not really going to be ‘into’ the movie because of all the questions and doubts I have of the performers ability to ‘sell’ the story to me.


THE LESSON..?


I am sharing this story because this is a very broad piece of my critical thinking at work. , and when I say ‘broad’, I mean ‘simple’.  Even when I am talking with someone about pretty much anything, this is the kind of things that go on in my mind.  This is another reason I am quick to apologize if I say something that bothers another person because it is better that I do that, and avoid my clumsy attempt to describe the dense esoteric that forms my opinions.  Additionally, it is another reason of why I am reluctant to further crowd my thought with getting to know another person.  But I digress.


School is school and we are at the half-way point for the semester.  I am keeping up but my stride is a little uneven right now… don’t be too worried (cause I’m not!) because like fatigue, doubts are fears trying to leave the body and mind!

A LOVE AND ROCKETS POST!!

SIMILAR AND YET SO DIFFERENT
In the grand scheme of time, Mike DeStefano and I merely passed through each other’s lives. Still, this man had a profound effect on my life, my life’s purpose, and everything I want to be. I’m not just saying that because that’s what happens when somebody dies– we make the dead guy seem grander than they were. No way. This guy was grand. A whisper from him was so loud. And he whispered that I was somebody and that I can do anything. He believed in me. And coming from a guy who was sharing his story honestly and making a living at it, that meant more than anything. And I never told him.


Regret. Regret. Regret.


Hoping that a major part of purgatory and/or dying and/or afterlife is blog reading, I’m saying it here. Everything I’m so grateful to have learned from Mike DeStefano:


Laurenne did a couple of posts about her relationship with (this link has her journal entry along with videos of his act) comic Mike DeStefano. Though she didn’t KNOW know him, it was more like she had a ‘brush with greatness’, and his recent death had a seismic impact upon her. I have had several ‘brushes’, most of them related to boxing and local celebrities in the various places I have spent time trying to establish myself as a boxer. Usually, these moments go without validation because it isn’t like these are people are in my address book on my phone and would not be caught dead as a reader of my blog. Even when I found myself temporarily pulled into someone who was ‘known’ if not well-known orbit I would feel a lot like a meteor that becomes an asteroid in the Van Allen belt. Not ‘in’ enough to be ‘in’ anything and still not far enough ‘out’, floating in-between the spaces among places between cliques.

Her story had me think about who I would hold in the same kind of light that she has for Mike and it isn’t even close. When I think about it, I feel how fortunate that I was to know ‘my guy’, not only through our shared activity but through two of his younger brothers, who I went to junior high with.

ONE DAY AT A BUS STOP IN THE METRO


I remember before I left for Virginia last year seeing Thomas Hearns driving in his Mercedes as I waited at a bus stop in Southfield. I wonder (now, not then, because I was like, ‘who would care at the time?’) what the other folks thought when ‘The Hitman’ rolled down his window and we briefly caught up before he took off. I say that because people have their ‘I know Aretha’ or ‘My Momma went to school with Diana’ stories that they interject into semi-lucid conversations over malt liquor and cheap wine. For me it was cool that I did not have to act crazy to get his attention and that HE called out to me. That it was his recognition of me that made the moment special. We trained together in a matter of fact manner, first as me as one of the younger pack of hopefuls and much later in his career as he wound down his career. I remember telling him one day as we finished training that he was my hero STILL, even now though I was in my late twenties and a grown a—man. One of the other boxers in the gym snickered and I looked through him and I said, “Hey, glove up. I got at least three rounds left for you”, and his smile washed away.


No matter what happened he knows how much he meant to me. I did spare him the personal consequence I think that I had from his loss to Ray Leonard in ‘The Showdown’, their incredible first fight back in September of 1981. He knew how much that the loss sat in the stomach of Detroiters and did not need to hear my ‘waa-waa’ story. But it is from that the comic ‘Love and Rockets’ and song ‘So Alive’ by ‘Love and Rockets’ have both become a part of my id, because during the mid- ‘80s and my adolescence I just KNEW that I could still do some things but there were other things that might exceed my grasp. And I was, am, quite okay with that.

FEEL I’M ON A CROSS AGAIN LATELY…



Within any particular group or culture there are vastly different experiences that does not invalidate anyone’s perspective. But within that culture finding room for acceptance is often more difficult than it is outside of said group or culture. For instance, when dealing with the friendly and broad minded officers of the inner ring suburbs in the Metro area, I would remark that the officers of these municipalities never thought to ask me if I listened to Nirvana or not and that when it came to asking themselves if I was a ‘wanna be’ or not, that what I was, a black man, mattered more to them when it came to their ticket quota!


Being called an ‘oreo’ or an ‘Uncle Tom’ by another black person is just about the worst thing that they can say to someone who doesn’t follow the orthodoxy of what is authentically black. For me, once someone hints that they think I suffer from an identity crisis of pigmentation, it gets difficult for me alter my opinion of them. I can’t account for other people and how they came to their cultural interests, whether or not it came because of their early exposure to samples of what else is available culturally than what is immediately at hand, or, if it was a conscious decision that emerged from any number of factors, namely, self-loathing and the kind of intellectual incongruence that the likes of Michele Bachman and Sarah Palin (oh, and Bill ‘the tide goes in and the tide goes out, never a miscommunication’ O’Reilly) characterizes. It made little sense to claim things from the art of ancient Egypt to Little Richard if you weren’t supposed to appreciate DaVinci and the Beatles.

‘Love and Rockets’ for me encapsulates the feeling that no matter what, that whatever reward that comes from companionship is not meant for me. Yeah, I know right, because I know that ‘I’m not alone in being alone’. But I am comfortable with my aloneness…

NOT QUITE OUTTA MY MIND ON A MONDAY NIGHT

I found Bridget Callahan through Erin O’Brien's blog and I randomly found read a post of hers that had a Belle & Sebastian song posted with it. Listening to the song as I read her entry I grew envious that she was able to synchronize words with music so seamlessly. She also includes some great photos with her words making her journal a real multimedia experience. If she doesn’t get paid for her blog, she should!

Is Bridget Callahan Your Best Friend..? The post that has the B&S song attached to it made me think that she just may have. I remember sneaking a mix tape of mine with some stuff from ‘If You're Feeling Sinister’ on it as well as other lo-fi indie rock that broke the monotonous drone of misogyny and ‘hood hubris’ of rap music that normally played on the stereo. As far as how did I get stuff like Blur, Gene and Pulp mixing in with the grunting of cats hitting the heavy bag and the staccato of the speed bag bouncing off wood? Hey, did I tell you that not only did I box, but I was (and am still) a heavyweight? A heavyweight who can crack?? Whenever some one would come in and say, “WTF, who the f*ck is playin’ this sh*t??” cats would point wherever I was, oblivious to the ruckus, concentrating on sharpening my ‘tool kit’. After awhile, folks knew what was up and it would not be a big deal… just took some indoctrination, that’s all.

FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS



As you can see I am not going to allow my ineptitude keep me from doing my thing!

Today I watched some of the Elvis Presley/Ann-Margaret movie, 'Viva Las Vegas' on Turner Classic movies this afternoon. Knowing now what wasn’t known then about Elvis, I had to go back to when I was a child watching Elvis movies on WXYZ in the afternoon’s when school was out for break and didn’t know he was a racist with Mommy issues and a drug habit among some of his more well-known flaws. After that, the movie was watchable but only just so. All of his movies had the same weak plot and if you want to call what was going on ‘acting’, I guess you can. As far as looks, put a blond wig on him and it’s Eminem... and I was like “Wow, that IS a really good comparison, cause now he is coming out with a likely crap boxing movie that will do big box-office receipts, because its Eminem playing a boxer!! They both have the same kind of ‘male waif’ physiques and by ‘acting’ they get to be and live the life of the person they wish they could be, not to mention that they both could be accused of hijacking a black musical genre and style!!

Okay, okay… solved for the weak script and started to check out Ann-Margaret. That is a cool name right there and if not correct me, doesn’t a sober Lindsay Lohan brings a little bit of what Ann had going on to mind?  Watching the movie I saw a where you could switch one out and insert the other as far as looks go... but that's me.


The dance scenes she was in did not seem to be bounded by time… THAT Ann-Margaret could get away with doing that at the club right now! She had a fire in her eyes burning and when she would throw her head around and her hair was covering parts of her face, she was mesmerizing.

I would watch half the movie before resuming my daily thing. My thoughts stayed with Ann and I began to ponder a question that I have had asked pretty frequently … why I don’t date white women (girls)?? It isn’t like I haven’t but the accounting is still less that 3 % of my totals. There isn’t a real ‘preference’ that has kept me from pursuing a white or any non-black woman before. Whenever I was asked about the dearth of ‘exotics’ on my resume, I would reply that “I wasn’t black enough”, inferring that ethnic diversity did not extend romantically to a brother who was not ‘authentically’ a brother. It was hard enough to get time with a sister girl who was accustomed to being measured by her sexuality and expected to support a emotionally stunted and corrupted parody of what a man should be as a partner. Thinking getting inside of the psyche of non-black women whose culture and character is strange and unknown, I would anticipate the hassle of introductions let alone a relationship being too much for me.

But seeing Ann-Margaret shakin’ and bakin’… hmm… where am I going to go from here?

SPORTS... AS LIFE

FOOTBALL... YOU BET!

But it is off the field issues that I want to talk about.

A few weeks ago Owen Thomas, a team captain for the University of Pennsylvania football team, committed suicide. It was later discovered that his brain suffered from Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, and when that kind of diagnosis is confirmed in someone as young as Owen, it is shocking. Usually, it is something that you find in older, former long-time professional football players. Owen was 21.

This past month has actually been pretty frightening for me. Like Owen, there really isn't anything in how I was carrying myself that would have given anyone around me any clue of how bad I was feeling. Sure, I have been mopey in my entries, but since I have been like this for most of the year, who would have noticed a further degradation in my status? And there is NO WAY I would let anyone in my environment know... yeah, there are reasons why, but nothing that I care to talk about. Part of why is a tactical decision and the rest I will get to in this entry.

When I think of someone so young dealing with the kinds of issues that I am working with, I could not imagine myself at 23, trying to get a grip on the world that is a struggle for me at 43. For instance, how do I describe how doing the most simple tasks, literally walking and being able to eat without choking, are things that I no longer take for granted. Not only are their emotional states that are aggravated by the injury, but they are also complicated because of social interaction and simply coping with living. Particularly when it comes to the different cultures.

Owen's Mom asked herself how she could not know what was going on with her son... and I am going to take a leap and say that for her, the frustration is borne out of a misunderstanding of their relationship. I am sure that she spoke to him about more substantial subjects, asking him 'how things were doing' being a prelude to more invovled conversation. She prolly felt that they had a level of communication in their relationship where she felt that if Owen had something to say to her, he was comfortable confiding in her.

AGAIN, SOME STEREOTYPES AREN'T JUST STEREOTYPES...

...they are just the truth.

In the speculation over another footballer's suicide, one Kenny McKinley of the Denver Bronco's, Dr. Alvin Poussaint speaks to the 'mask of machismo' that black men have when it comes to mental health issues. I don't only think it is only black men, but a culture than exists in most ethnic minorities in America.

As with Owen Thomas, the incident was a contrast to the external personality that Kenny had. According to one investigator, he had even made statements to the effect that he would be better off dead. I don't know about you, but whenever I have heard someone say something like that, I have stopped and waited for confirmation that it was a misuse of an expression. I could not ever let someone say that to me and 'let it go'. But often enough, those kinds of signs, as clear as in Kenny's case, will go ignored.

One reason is that the numbers of suicide among ethnic minorities, while growing, still don't approach the numbers for whites. I think that is more out of 'opportunity' than it is culture or economics. For some reason, it isn't seen as a 'way out'. Perhaps it is a residual feeling left over from the inherited struggle that comes with being born into an 'oppressed state'. As a child recording how people deal with the pressures and issues that will more than likely be waiting on that child growing into adulthood, I think, makes a person who grows up in that condition desensitized to how bleak or mundane their life is.

That attitude plays a role, I believe, in the lack of awareness in these communities when it comes to mental health issues. Also the constant pressure is seen as inescapable collectively, and is often regarded as a natural right of passage to be dealt with, individually. Escaping your environment is a badge of honor, accomplished with guile, will and often unacknowledged luck (which is a topic for another time).

As far as what I know... the insensitivity to mental health feeds the poverty cycle. I understand the difficulty in someone who is living in or just above poverty from being able to afford good mental health, but there are resources within reach that provide assistance for people who are having problems with depression. Sometimes, being able to talk to someone who is willing to listen and let a person express themselves without the reproach is often what a person needs. I wonder if Kenny McKinley felt that he could talk to someone about some of what I could clearly see as a problem in the reports about him. Maybe that would have made a difference. What I do know is that it has to be a terrible feeling to have, that maybe you were rightthere as someone was drifting out and you did not recognize their distress.

BECAUSE I TRUST MYSELF (and the sanest days are mad)

Long ago I came to the conclusion that the closer people were to me, the more likely they were to let me down. When I was younger and more filled insouciance, I had little concern for the perceived drain that people were on me. Factoring in the insensitivity that blacks have in matters of mental health, with my diagnosis and the way my relationships with MD had deteriorated, I made the executive decision to no longer pursue any intimate relationships with women (or anyone else, for that matter, smart guy!.

Though she no longer blogs regularly, Jo Ann Donley is a Facebook friend who has 'broken the code' to some of my status updates. My most recent are lyrics from the Morrissey song 'Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself'. I feel that I will emerge from my episode in short order, taking small steps one following the other, each one based on the premise of what is best for me.

One of the reasons that I make a point of my owning my 'Early Burglary Years', has been I don't want anyone to be able to say that didn't see something coming, when I know that they had an idea of what they were getting into. And it is in thinking about future conversations with possible candidates for a relationship that this song, those lyrics in particular, came to mind and I decided that they fit my 'status'. They weren't 'aimed' at anyone in particular but a personal observation. My being sensitive and understanding of how I am seen is one thing... but in the lack of those same things being returned, which has occurred more than once, is simply too taxing for me.

The same kind of 'thing' that makes blacks think that somehow they are immune to mental health problems (and by association, makes the community insensitive to MY PROBLEMS) is paralleled by the ostracizing nature that comes when you don't fit the mold. Rather than waste any time trying to find common ground in a relationship, I figure I would go somewhere and make sure I had good relationships with the agencies responsible for helping me with my life, remain steadfast on the path I have chosen.

As for 'if something happens, it will happen' when it comes to romance, my new role model is Lisbeth Salander. Y'all know her, 'The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo'.

SO SUE ME

BUT NOT BECAUSE I AM A SNOB ABOUT IT



I do like artsy East Coast-New York rock. Sonic Youth, Television, Lou Reed, stuff like that I really can get into. There is a group, 'Chk, Chk, Chk' whose music I have heard in indie movie soundtracks recently. My first exposure to them was back at the turn of the century, with a song called 'Me and Giulani Down By The Schoolyard (a true story!)'. It is a long song (not as long as 'Washing Machine' but close enough!) but very clever with its lyrics and quite a funky beat to it... again, if I could simply keep a two step rhythm, I would shake to this song!

Since IPods remain a mystery to me, I wonder how I would go about loading all of my cd's to my device? And I wonder how long it would take... geez, I have about thousand of 'em...

THINGS THAT I THINK THAT I AM THINKING ABOUT

Most of the storm over Dr. Laura has passed, hasn't it? Since I can remember as a teenager hearing her crap analysis and advice on WXYZ-1270, my big thing is what took folks so long to realize she is a full of crap and is a quack? She is nothing more than a Stuart Smalley in drag, not trained to do anything but has been a part of enough 12-step programs to let you know that you need one too! I was reading in Sheria's journal last week and got her take on the word and Dr. Laura. But first, I had better start with where I am coming from.

I cannot recall having been 'extra' upset whenever I have been called by the N-word, no matter how it was used (more on that later) or who used it. Growing up, kids had their pick of slurs and insults by which they could verbally assault me with, so I lumped all of them in the same wagon, took Mom's advice and only answered to my own name. Now, I have dropped a few 'N-bombs', both as a derogatory but more often in the way that Markie Mark here says in his comment on Sheria's post:

"I do think many white people are jealous of how black people use language to convey emphasis and intimacy. When a white person with an icicle up her ass like Dr. Laura hears one black guy refer to another as "my ni**a," its not the word itself she wants, but the emotional exchange she is witnessing."

I think that he has hit upon something here. Because growing up it was often, as George Carlin so wittily noted, about the context in which one brother would say it to another. Most ethic slurs are not as multipurpose as the N-word, and I have to admit that a lot of the sting has gone out of it, primarily because we DO use it and from one brown man to another, there is a different kind of context that people like Dr. Laura could never hope to understand.

When I first received my diagnosis, for a while in 'the provincial town I once jogged 'round', it seem that other people who were disabled seemed to recognize something about me, something that marked me as 'one of theirs'. It STILL happens... I don't know if it is something about my gait or look, but they just KNOW. And often this recognition seems to occur without a word being said, as if I have a new scent and that is what gives me away.

Not that I mind or anything, but when I have sat and talked with a 'club member', no matter what their issues is, we have a lot of things in common to talk on. For us to make certain kinds of jokes, we don't wonder about sensitivities because it happens to the teller of the joke too, and we are having a small chuckle at it and driving on.

Perhaps the 'N-word' has lost a lot of its power to hurt and now is a 'marker' of a person. For me, an African-American who uses it, freely and casually, leaves me with the impression of a subpar intellect and a person with self-esteem issues. There is a character on Aaron McGruder's 'Boondocks' show who has all the classic signs of a self-hating brother, and when the word is used, I don't think of it as gratuitous. Doesn't make it any less difficult to hear.

GETTIN' PAID TO SAY THIS SH*T HERE...

Same thing goes for its use in rap songs. I mentioned the NWA song and here are the lyrics and time has done well by them. They pretty much explain why we call ourselves the 'N-word' and have been able to turn it into an income generator. And here is where I have my problems with it. How many other ethnic slurs do you see commercialized like this? None, that how many and there is a reason for it.

It is because negation of oneself is a lack of self-respect. And if you can't respect yourself or show esteem for your own group, then who really controls the groups image? Oppressed people cling to their identities and treasure it. That does not seem to be what happens with African-Americans and their identity. It makes it hard for other take us as seriously as we would like to be seen. That we traffic in the commerce of our degradation only makes it more difficult for blacks to be taken seriously as an ethnic group infused with pride. Anywho...

My panties don't get bunched up when I hear the word. I don't use it because it simply is devoid of any content in my mind. And if I someone of ANY ethnic persuasion uses it in a conversation with me, I prolly would view them with hostility and think less of them as a person. The same way that Frannie views 'Wally Campbells' only without the wannabe class, the ornamental grace or undeserved high prospects that comes with be a section man.

AND I'M TIRED OF THE SOUP DU JOUR

HE'S BEEN WITH THE WORLD

Somehow, memories of wearing a cheap, yellow, plasticy suit along with understanding a misunderstanding that is no longer misunderstood brought the 'ABOARD THE NOSTROMO' entry to mind. And despite its rambling length, it was still a real expressing of what was churning inside my head. Today's title and heading are a nod to everyone's favorite microbiologist (at least mine, 'cause she is the only one I know!) Beth, who took in a Devo show in Chicago. Before anyone goes any further, go back and read this and CRITIQUE as well as comment! If I am going to be a writer, I would like to know where I am screwing up as much as I like to hear that I have actually wrote something worth reading. Now, let the show commence...

Debated with myself on letting it go, especially since there is an understanding... but 'it' will not let me rest. I still find sleep elusive and I wonder if this is how insomiacs start out?

Anywho, certain subjects and certain phrases that are being used in the blog world and the ol' analog world are helping to, if not feed, keep, the 'thing' in my mind that has a hold of me active and 'it' does not seem to be willing to let go of me.

One phrase, 'to prove a negative'... I wonder if it would fit in refuting the notion that I am not 'black'. This is not to say that I am not an 'African-American', but it is a slap at ones culture and an ignorantly jealous attempt at destabilizing someone who is comfortable with their identity.

Many folks who check the box on the census but fail to do it when they are in the streets have all sort of reasons for cherry-picking through being black. I don't give a f*ck what a so-called 'brother' (or sister, for that matter) think about me and my Enya CD's or my appreciation for Martha Stewart and re-runs of the 'Golden Girls'. And I mean that.

It does not matter if it is an 'engineered affectation', as it is with crappy Jan, who for her own reasons, decided to consciously choose that route. It doe not matter if it is truly environmental, as it is for some black children who are born in places like Novi or Clarkston, who may be 'first generation children', who will grow up and acculturalize the way you expect any middle-to-upwardly middle class kid in the area to do, fitting in to 'their norm' on the real.

Why do black people have such a problem with maintaining their 'identity' at the exspense of moving in an affirmative direction? Nobody else heard what Jesse Jackson heard in Dan Gilbert's remark about Le Bron, at least not until he mentioned it. Everyone's favorite 'ghetto promoter' recently made some clownish comments that were so stereotypical, I am surprised he was not wearing blackface when he said it. No, that is too far back... and since he already has the afro, how about gold chains around his neck and a platform shoes with his bell bottoms floating in the breeze. I had thought about linking to and pasting some of his comments that I thought was 'drink-the-kool aid' speak, but I do not want to lose my own focus.

The upshot of it is, black people only think of brotherhood when there is a profit motive behind it. I know, that is a blanket statement and it covers a lot of folks who are doing good in the community. But again, that is what is so neat about this being MY JOURNAL, that I get to say what I feel and I can understand the full scope of what I am saying. You want clairity, give me your number and we can call. Hey, or we can meet out in RO and chit the chat about it.

Hell, one of the big problems about having a dialogue on race is that we are STILL trying to figure what 'we' are? Black people are so full of shit when it comes to this topic, I swear (and I just did too!! who sez I can't set up a joke!!), that while some may have reveled in the achievements of people like Nathaniel Hale Williams, they did not have an understanding of what that journey had to have been for them. Some of what blacks were limited by through stereotype and Jim Crow society had to be left behind. I could not imagine any of the fantastic and great leagacy heroes of African American lore, spending that much time in a juke joint or trying to shoot dice with the boys swilling 'shine.

Much of the problem in this culture is that black cling to in America is like trying to prove a negative. Blacks in this country still think that all blacks can dance, eat chicken, men have big men parts and their women are somehow fantastically gifted at the nurturing thing. What-the-fuck-ever. You call one a greasy, jigaboo, stud, mammy blaster, and see what happens.

When you claim that you can not prove something, the burden of proof is on the one making the positive affirmation. I know that there are three kinds of numbers, (lies, damned lies, and statistics) but the consensus of them are not in our favor. Got to wonder why that is...

POGO KNEW IT

African Americans are their own worst enemy. While I know that culture evolves slowly, the same historical trends seem apparent to me when it comes to 'affirming ones blackness'. One of them, which I think has been a theme in my journal, is that we exploit ourselves as badly, if not worse, than someone from another ethnic group would. The ol' Willie Lynch principle come to life.

I tend to see the anger at the civil rights exemptions, the anti-discrimination laws, and EEO policies, as people looking through frustrated-coated glasses. One of the reasons that it different ethnic groups work together as well as they do in the Military, is due in no small part to the culture of meritocracy. No one gets to where they are unless they have earned it.

To be sure, many blacks who occupy slots in college that were 'set aside', have earned their way. But when their is verifiable evidence of people who were non-qualifiers who recieve a set aside spot, well, that is going to make someone upset.

Now, there was a period where the 'each one, teach one' thing was strong in the community. Where has it gone?? A lot of it had to do with not white, but black flight. The curse of desegregation. What you can find in other ethnic enclaves is not what you will find in most African-American neighborhoods. A lot of that is because black people abandoned their own neighborhoods and places of doing business.

You can bore me with all the talk about what oppression does to a person's self esteem and values system. You can irrate me with talk about a lack of appreciation for culture and morality.

Mentioning Jan was to introduce how cruel people can be. There is the whole 'light- skinned, straight hair hair v. dark-skinned, nappy hair crap. Jan is what some may call, dark-skinned. She was taunted and teased because of it. One of her defences was to stop associating with the culture and that black people were normally interested in. She tried to hide here 'accent' and thought that she could simply 'talk pretty one day' and be seen in a different way. For her, ANYTHING was better than the crap box she was placed in by her "own" people.

Her last straw happened at a HBCU in Alabama. I was never privy to her two year experience there, but something happened and she 'stopped being black'. She started listening to music that was as far away from the kind of music she like BEFORE going down south than she did after she returned. Something that was brewing in her boiled over and...

NOW IF YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW I AM DOING..?

I still am not sure yet. I ended up buying a bike today, because a bike for me is what a car is to most adults. Catching the bus annoys the crap out of me. Besides, the SFC had given me money to purchase a new bike and I have been holding onto it, the thinking being that I will add some loot to it and upgrade from my usual brand to a more upscale one.

Walking past a shop last week, I saw the upgrade from my last bike ... ON SALE. So today I went ahead and bought it. Three bills is still three bills, I say. Not did I breakdown and purchase a bike, it is a direct upgrade from the bike I left in Va., Trixie.

Tomorrow I will start the search for an appropriate box to ship it in and let that be the bike I travel around Omaha on. Will solicit for names for HER, eventually. Again, if I had a choice of where you paid me any attention, I'd rather you go read my entry in the 100-Word Challenge. If you were here now that you ARE here, I would give you a big wet kiss!!

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A CAT CAN'T SLEEP

RANDOM THOUGHT

The Anti-Defamation League (ADL) is shocked at Newsweek columnist and CNN contributor Fareed Zakaria for returning the award the ADL gave him. He said that the mission of the ADL was compromised by its position on the proposed Mosque near the 9-11 Memorial. I happen to agree with him.

I sorta understand the need for the position of the ADL. But I also agree completely with Zakaria saying that their stance on the mosque goes against what the ADL has long stood for. To me their discrimination against Muslims is anti-American and they are feeding into prejudice against Muslims and Islam in this country.

While the prize money was 'modest' compared to a major sports salary, it would be like a basketball star giving back an MVP award because he believe the NBA's mandatory age limit is discriminatory (which I feel it is). I think about Michael Jordan and his deafening silence during the Rodney King trials and his bullshit compromise he made in not endorsing Harvey Gantt as he ran against Jesse Helms by saying, "Republicans by shoes, too." Ol' Harvey was a brother who was once Mayor of Charlotte. I am not saying that Harvey would have unseated ol' Jesse, but it let me know as much as I needed to know about Mike.

When it comes to commentary about social conditions in this country, I use ethnic identifiers because it seems as if it makes references a lot easier. What I am noticing is that I am among a few cats (or kittens) doing so. Part of that is because minority people do not have the kind of impact in the lives of the majority that the majority has in minority lives, from day to day living. Not to mention the all the 'free stuff' that y'all give one another when we are not around!!

African-Americans believe that there exists the same kind of unity and brotherhood in their ethnic group that is found in others. I far as I can tell, it does not and has never been the kind of driving force for unity that can be seen collectively in other groups. It is hard to say how long this false premise has existed but I do think that it has done great harm African-Americans and their self-image in general.

IDENTITY POLITICS

This is not to say that I am one of those 'oreo brothers', disliking his own skin. In fact it is because I like my skin and others within my own ethnic group have problems with my skin and its shade, that I began to objectively look at the problem we had within our group.

WE seem to hate ourselves and this schism grows to a split in the psyche of those African Americans who move upward in the ranks of society. Some are torn and unable to move their thinking beyond the environment that they emerged from (Michael Vick comes to mind as an example) and somehow feel either a guilt or a debt to the world they leave behind. Others, a small amount, feel that a violent overthrow of the social order is necessary, but revolution by its very nature is short, impulsive and violent. The courage necessary to commit to such process is is sorely lacking. The same kind of drug provided to the most of the people of the first world has made the likely hood of the level of organization needed to move mass amounts of people to uprising, will not happen.

Meeting the true enemy is easy to do but difficult to realize. All one has to do to find the reason for any malcondition that they believe is going on in their world, is to look in a mirror. Once they do that and accept the answer that they find, then they will have armed themselves with the information they need to act upon making the life they envision for themselves.

The debate between Booker T. Washington and W.E.B DuBois over what African Americans should do to advance themselves collectively hinged on being able to take responsibility and act upon their own belief. Booker T. was under the idea that we should simply work hard and 'pay our dues' and earn our way through our effort alone. W.E.B saw the issue as one as fighting for basic human rights and becoming educated. The problem was that no one has ever addressed the massive sagging middle between the two ends.

WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH YOU, MARK?

There has been this enduring philosophical difference within the community and it has left us vulnerable. If rural white Americans clings to their guns and bible, what is it that urban African-Americans cling to? In places like the Atl, D.C. and the Metro, I wonder how long it would be before the election of a white or non-black mayor occurs? I have no evidence that would entice me to believe that African-Americans are as broad minded enough to vote on principle rather than 'a loyalty'.

A loyalty that they would begrudge their 'brother' in any other area. Dignity, justice, or morality. Part of what made me get steamed at P.Diddy and his allegation that the questions he was asked by Martin Bashir were loaded, is that he is one of the people who objectifies and markets an image to African-Americans that is pejorative and profiteering. But that is okay, because we are getting exploited by a brother. I have to question a brother on what he thinks of 'his people' when the reason that made Bashir's comment racist, exemplifies why he is not a part of 'his people'.

He compared himself with Steve Jobs... I am not sure how much money you need to be in that kind of company, but that is now 'his kind of people'. And one of the problems that exists for African-Americans is the kind of social leadership and responsibility that is driven by the supposed social and moral agencies that are said to exist in the community and is said to be a large part of the communities back bone.

We identify with people who no longer identify with us. I mentioned Ice Cube movie 'The Lottery Ticket' as a sample of media poison in our culture. I will add Tyler Perry with him as the purveyors of expletive crap. Lessons? If a scoop of ice cream falls off my cone in dog shit, it is still ice cream... in dog shit. So how good to you think that is going to taste now? You do it. You eat it.

My thing is, there has to be another way that is not taking advantage of 'our people' for these now detached folks to make money. But in the new social group they are in, we are seen more as 'a market' for them to profit from.

Because there is no one enduring image to tie African-Americans together, several different false images exists. And they bottle and sell them form the false positive ideals in movies to the true negatives in rap/pop music.

And what is the point of all this? Everything and nothing at the same time.