For Colored Guys Who Have Considered Homicide Because the Media Has Done More Than Enuf

                               
As a MAN who is BLACK and resides in AMERICA (in order of appearance), it is disconcerting to be consistently bombarded with so many negative images and stereotypes. It doesn’t matter the medium, radio, television and print have arbitrarily concluded that the world needs a villain and the antagonist shall forever remain the American Negro. After all, bad guys do wear black...skin. I am firmly convinced that we cannot get along at this rate so rather than collude to some presumptuous semblance of peace, It’s about time we all either establish balanced reporting or S.T.F.U (I would use the appropriate expletive here but some of you read this at work and server censorship is at an all time high).

Before this gets written off as some Pro-Panther, militant resurgence rant, give me a cotton pickin’ second here! I am in no way concerned with inciting nor revisiting any racial grievances for those will forever persist and to be quite frank, I like whitey. I like yellowy, darky and damn near everybody. What I despise however is everybody all at once, and with the same resounding message. THE BLACK MAN IS THE SCOURGE OF SOCIETY! I AM THE BLACK PLAGUE! I AM THE FIFTH HORSEMAN OF APOCALYPSE. I get it already. I’m really Shrek but you mean to tell me no one can find any positive AND entertaining stories of black males to grace the cover of the Daily Bugle!?

I open my morning e-paper to find that black boys are disproportionately stupid in comparison to stupid white boys who are all stupider than a growing number of third world students. I turn on the television to hear yet another “Oprah says” saga of all the black men fornicating with other men behind their wives backs. OK then. I guess I’ll just hop on the social networks and read all the tweets and fb updates of the lazy, shiftless, no good, wanna be rapper, baby daddies who never want to get married and cheat and lie and... Allllllrighty then. I guess I’ll just go to the movies to forget about all this man bashing. Damn! Just missed Megamind. Guess I’ll see For Colored Girls instead....

You know what? Fuck your server! Fuck your couch too!Everyone else gets to parade around town with commentary on how screwed up black men are and because men don’t speak, I’m supposed to remain reticent? What the fuck son!

I grew up in a working class neighborhood where everyone was represented. The future drug dealers, drug users, business owners, doctors, rapists and lawyers of America all lived within the same 2X2 block radius (and were often indistinguishable from one another.) I am not debating that all these harrowing tales of doom and despair purported by the media aren’t rooted in truth. I am also however not oblivious to the fact that there are other stories to be told. The long winded point is why is it always the same stories regurgitated in mass media? Am I supposed to embrace the ogre role as the media usurps my civility in an effort to shatter box office records? As stated previous, please see “you, fuck!” And I don’t mean that in no nice, Cee Lo Green, Gwenyth Paltrow Glee rendition, sorta way. And the “you” I’m talking about here is the Media. And the Media here is ALL OF US!
                                                                                   
Residing in a blame centric society where causation for all strife must be identified (or manufactured) then branded so that an equally marketable solution can ultimately be sold for profit, it seems the #1 leading symptom for a bad day (and evidently the best selling) is a black man. The big scarwee negwo (insert Scooby-Doo spooky ghost howl here) is still the boogie man to one and all. I'm actually surprised the recent H1N1 outbreak wasn't renamed the Chitlin' Flu. Everyone loathing black men, including other black men and women is not quite how I envisioned equality.

Maybe I'm deluded. Either I'm living in a bubble or I really should be considering going towards the white light.....Nah.

Let’s all try something innovative going forward. For every shitty fact you forward about your least favorite Mandingo, find something positive to profess also... or punch yourself in the face. And if you can’t find anything good to say then you aren’t trying hard enough so assault your face as an affront against apathy.We could also remove our force fed intellects from the asses of the media outlets from which we gather our “intelligence.” That's always an option. Most of us listen to the radio complaining "they only play the same 3 songs" while negligent that we only listen to the same 3 stations. It would help if we all remained cognizant of our dissidence along with whose messages we chose to rebroadcast on our personal networks. The worst part of most storms these days seems to be the forecast and not the storm itself.

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Act Like a Man a.k.a Insert the World's Smallest Violin Here

I think I was about 15 years old when I received my first and most important “man law”. There was a party being thrown by a classmate of mine and due to my academic shortcomings, I was told that I need not prepare an Oscar outfit for I would not be in attendance. I wasn’t aware at that point that even if I were a straight A student, I probably still wouldn't have been allowed to attend but I had managed to arm my folks with the gift of bad grades as grounds for their latch key aspirations. So as I began to cry like a punk biotch, my dad sternly instructed me that “Men don’t cry!” Ok. Fair enough. I’ll suck the snot back up. What Pops failed to do however was to alert me as to what alternative and acceptable means of emoting was officially sanctioned by the male code of ethics.

Men, and especially African American/Latino men are emotionally crippled. Since we are disproportionately afflicted by all other societal ailments, yada yada yada,,, Not sure where it originates but social conditioning and fictitious male archetypes tend to dictate acceptable means of emoting. We look to the toughest of tough guys for emotional guidance,both on the block and in our blockbusters. The best part of every action movie is when our hero fights through some sort of unimaginable emotional (“you killed my father!”) and physical injury. Nothing says MAN” like dispensing of an adversary while a 30-inch blade dangles from the puncture wound in your upper chest. I don’t know about you but if you shove a blade through my sternum, you can label me whatever size vagina you like as I am most certainly hitting the floor while yelping like a new born calf as I clutch my chest and question the universe a la Nancy Kerrigan (“Why? Why?”).

Unfortunately, society also champions gratuitous bravado in reality. Even after long and illustrious careers (6-7 years) professional athletes barely allow themselves to cry upon retirement. Said sports hero must suck it up, pause, forgive himself for having emotions, pause again, hold their hat, shirt or clipboard in front of their face, then preface his crying with the statement, “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry”. It is no secret that men are not supposed to exude any sort of emotion that is not marred in seriousness. A little humor is ok but not too much. Unless your last name ends in Pryor, Murphy or Rock, no one appreciates all that mirth and glee.

Even our true masters (women) prefer the strong silent type. Unbeknownst to them, women are ultimately requesting the strong serial killer type but who am I to question preference?

For the record, men are allowed to cry when A) An extremely close relative dies & B) An extremely close relative dies. And even then, no facial expression must be shown. A stiff upper lip with an occasional tear begrudgingly streaming down a man's cheek is enough to alert the world that he is dying inside. After the funeral however, he is on his own. I am no way calling for a nation of blubbering brothers but the alternative seems to be an inability to deal with common, everyday stresses, and it is killing us.

When you don’t present someone with healthy emotional options, they will find new and imaginative ways of dealing. Most internalize or resort to Jack Daniels and Mary Jane abuse but some will surly resort to extreme forms of "Man crying" a.k.a punching holes in walls, throwing things and eventually, throwing people. Stress induced heart attacks and the prison industrial complex are the end destinations for many emotionally maladjusted males. Too many are hell bent on keeping it real, not realizing that their version of reality bites. We all know what happens when keeping it real goes wrong so It’s way beyond time we figured out how to deal. Real talk.

*Sidebar- Acknowledging that most stresses are self-inflicted is Advanced Emotion 102 so let’s just stick with the basics for now. Sidebar complete

Man to English Dictionary: What he says vs. what he really means:

"I need to go to the gym” – "I need to get some of this aggression out before I kill somebody."

"I'm going out with the fellas." - "I need to tell someone who I almost killed this week."

Silence. – “I’m about to kill somebody"

“Leave me alone.”- “I’m about to kill you”

"Nah, I’m good.” – "I already killed somebody.. Sell my stuff and tell the kids I love ‘em."

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“But I Can’t Afford the Red Pill!”

“Are you sleepy at night? Do you wake up in the morning? Does hunger occur after not eating for extended periods of time? If you have displayed any of these symptoms or know someone who has, you could be suffering from Normalitis. You should ask your doctor about Noneedacil. Yes, Noneedacil. From the makers of prescription glasses with no lenses and the pet rock comes Noneedacil. Results from an independent, quadruple-blind study funded by the board of directors of the company that owns Noneedacil show that patients who took Noneedacil were more likely to take Noneedacil than patients who didn’t (did I mention Noneedacil?) Ask your pusher if Noneedacil is right for you.”

*Side effects include death, dying, nose bleeds, stomach upset, indigestion, aneurisms, diaper rash, erections lasting longer than 4 hours in women, Men menstruating, chicken pox in monkeys, monkey pox in birds, bird flu in pigs and swine flu in guinea pigs a.k.a. you. Pregnant women or women who wish to ever have healthy children shouldn’t take Nooneedacil.

Before I persist, I would like to commend all those (doctors, nurses, midwives, shaman, dulas, etc…) who have dedicated their lives to helping and healing others through the practice of medicine. This is not directed towards you. This is for your boss.

The healthcare industry is in need of serious overhaul. This is not because Lobbyists influence policy making in Washington D.C. This is not because our hypochondriac culture promotes “cure” rather than preventative measures for all ailments, real or imagined. This is not because healthcare costs are the #1 cause of personal bankruptcy in America. This is not because although the most expensive in the free universe, U.S healthcare cares less for its citizens than certain “undeveloped” nations. The reason the healthcare system needs an overhaul is solely because I was told that I had to pay $176 dollars for a prescription ointment and when I asked for the generic brand as a cheaper alternative, the doctor gladly called it in, bringing my new total to $167 (net savings = 9 dolares). This prompted me to consider alternative homeopathic methods of treatment before finally submitting my wallet to a stomach pumping of sorts:

Mix 1 eye of newt, 2 smidges of Bitter Root, 1 bag of Bat balls, 3 pinches of Nutmeg, and a dash of Mike Lawry’s jerk seasoning in a bubbling cauldron, then bake in a steam powered oven @ 75 degrees for 17 minutes. Fluff with a fork and serve tepid.

Needless to say, I am not a fan of healthcare bureaucracy as it stands. With the myriad of diseases that require only funding to eradicate, why would pharmaceutical companies squander resources developing new drugs when they could easily pool funds and literally cure some ailment? But alas, there is no profit in actual progress. There is however money to be made in incremental, regressive, partially hydrogenated rehabilitation. I now understand the backlash against the Obama administration’s attempts at reform and the rational behind slanderous and misleading comparisons to Nazi death panels. The pharmaceutical industry has always been opposed to a final solution.

I read a book a while ago by George Bernard Shaw called the Doctor’s Dilemma. The underlying inspiration for the story was an actual doctor in London who performed procedures that neither helped nor hurt his patients. The ultimate result was that said doctor grew substantially wealthy for his efforts. Sound familiar? Ever wonder why you can’t leave your doctor’s office without a requisition and referral to copay yet another specialist for some overpriced, ineffective medications or treatment? By the way, The Doctor's Dilemma was written in 1906. It seems there have been doctors without borders (as in not knowing where to draw the line when money is involved) for almost a century now. Until there is some sort of elixir that cures common greed, there will never be an end to this.

Now if you will excuse me, a group of soon to be illegal immigrants, including myself will be attempting to cross borders in the hopes of a better life. We’s escapin’ to Canada!!

Sidebar: It was brought to my attention many years ago that a certain medication (Procardia) was prescribed 12 days before a certain Crazed Afrykan’s father suffered massive cardiac arrest. It was also later identified that this medication may induce, yes you guess it, cardiac arrest in 1-7 % of patients. Now who’s to say if this had anything to do with it? But my point is this: who’s to say it didn’t? No one really cares that a drug that helps a million others may be the one that causes another person’s Pop’s heart to literally pop. The only ones who may concern themselves with that however may be the families of that seemingly insignificant percentile. Sidebar complete.

You Damn Right it’s Personal!

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For Every Action…

1. “If at first you don’t succeed, try try again,” UNLESS “you’ve got to know when to fold ‘em and walk away.”
   
   
2. “An eye for an eye,” UNLESS “two wrongs don’t make a right.”
   
   
3. “Time waits for no man,” UNLESS “patience is a virtue.”
   
   
4. “Don’t judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes,” UNLESS “all people are created equal.”
   
   
5. “Love will conquer all,” UNLESS “love don’t pay the bills.”
   
   
6. “He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day,” UNLESS “there is nothing to fear but fear itself.”
   
   
7. “Each one teach one,” UNLESS “it’s survival of the fittest.”
   
   
8. “I believe I can fly,” UNLESS “I need to crawl before I can walk.”
   
   
9. “When the going gets tough, the tough get going,” UNLESS “it’s back to the drawing board.”
   
   
10. “Practice make perfect,” UNLESS ‘experience is the greatest teacher.”
    
    
11. “Live like you have nothing to lose,” UNLESS “you’re living like your life depends on it.”
    
    
12. “Knowledge is power” UNLESS “knowing is half the battle.”
    
    
13. “The truth shall set you free” UNLESS “you can’t handle the truth.”
    
    
14. ”Life is like a box of chocolates” UNLESS “life is just a bowl of cherries"

STOP F*UCKING CONFUSING ME!!!!

- Crazed Afrykan

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She Got It from Her Mami

 

When we last left off, I was talking about boobies (that’s what I wished she said). So it is only fitting that I speak on the lower extremities of the female anatomy this go round. I am of course speaking of the posterior, affectionately known as the booty, the fatty, the badukadunk, the ass, smuggled midgets, the onion, the apple, “Oh sh*t!”, “Damn!”, “Good God!”, Holy Jesus!”, “Yo Ma”, “The rent is late”, “The divorce is final”, “The car is keyed”, etc… What is it about a sun ripened coconut derriere that drives men, and let’s just be blunt and overtly racist here, black men in particular, so friggin’ insane? I have never seen a group of individuals typically hell bent on maintaining radio silence (specifically New York black men) become so garrulous after viewing a big booty bounce by. My Caucasian comrades are also highly susceptible to the effects of a ripe rump, although not as overtly weakened. Place a phatty in front of two male strangers in ANY environment and watch the salutations ensue (“Did you see that my brotha?! It was crazy son!”  “Why yes Bob. Yes I did. It was indeed swell!”). Through hours of painstaking research in countless bars, clubs, homecomings, and day to day field studies (I also saw a special on PBS), I have uncovered undisputable scientific evidence as to why your hubby / boyfriend / boss / Grandpa / Congressman / Reverend seems to lose his booty-lovin’ mind when an “ass so fat, you could sit a drink on it” is in his general vicinity. 

The following is a direct excerpt from other excerpts taken from Wikipedia and placed on my blog;

 Some researchers have found that the waist-hip ratio (WHR) is a significant measure of female attractiveness. Women with a 0.7 WHR are usually rated as more attractive by men from European cultures. Such diverse beauty icons as Audrey Hepburn, Marilyn Monroe, Sophia Loren and even the Venus de Milo all have or had ratios close to 0.7, even, even though they all have different weights and heights. In other cultures, preferences appear to vary according to some studies, ranging from 0.6 in China, to 0.8 or 0.9 in parts of South America and Africa, and divergent preferences based on ethnicity, rather than nationality, have also been noted.

 Why am I not surprised to find that Spanish and African men prefer bigger booties? They needed research for that? Can someone please pay me to do research on why humans need to breathe air since funding the obvious is clearly a growing trend.

 And since these clowns can make shit up about why I like big butts (I cannot lie), I decided to make up some of my own.

 I.C.M (Independent Cheek Movement) - Although the human female is not climbing a flight of stairs, the illusion can be recreated with the assistance of pedis elevatus devicus (high heel shoes). When supporting an A-1 booty, heels provide the perfect lift / vertical separation necessary for each butt cheek to levitate independently of each other. This phenomena has caused many an individual to board the wrong train, chart inefficient routes to and from desired destinations, spend unnecessary amounts of time loitering way after the party has ended and the venue has closed, then gone to Ihop in desperation of finding any other lingering errant booties that refuse to call it a night (as if he will not be doing it all agan the very next night), and a slew of other acts I, I mean men, have done to lengthen the witnessing of  this occurrence.

 The Face – Not to be confused with the Gas Face, “The Face” is traditionally seen only when

 1.        A Hip hop emcee has just heard the craziest track in his life.

 2.        A sports fan witnesses the execution of a “spectacular move” (see all MJ dunks on Patrick Ewing).

 3.        The morning after a bean burrito buffet.

  The “Right Stuff” has been known to induce street wide pandemics of The Face. The Face is readily identified by the wrinkle lines in the central region of the heterosexual male's / lesbian's cranial cortex , accompanied by a look of complete and utter del-usion (delight and confusion). The Face however is remarkably similar to the expression one makes when constipated so please be careful not to misconstrue the two.

 And there you go.  To answer the question on many a lady's mind and finally put the issue to rest, it is, in fact, that serious. So much so that there are Women in our society who are rich and famous for no other reason alone than their butts i.e. Jennifer Lopez, Buffy the body, Pinky (those who know, know), etc. So the next time you catch your beau mentally absconding with the backside of another, why not commend him for being in touch with nature? Too often do we ascribe to constructs that are subject to amendment but refuse to succumb to the irrefutable laws of nature / mother Africa. You wouldn’t be mad at a baby for being hungry would you so why lash out at a man for ahh forget it. I tried fellas. I suggest you all get a pair of sunglasses with tints darker than Flava Flav and Wesley Snipes fighting ninjas in a licorice factory during a blackout and get your perv on!

 Honorable mention to the new generation of booty’s whose spike in visibility has been attributed to;

 1.        BET Un-cut

2.        106 & Park

3.        Hollywood

4.        Hip Hop

5.        The entire Designer denim industry

6.        Hormone grown, genetically altered, steroid injected digestibles (food I believe it’s called)

7.        The FDA

8.        Apathy

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Leave it To Cleavage

I've been debating lately about how / why women wear revealing clothing to attract attention then shun the attention once received. I never understood why women would pull out 3/4th of their boobies (nipples securely fastened with industrial strength, 3M Clear Nipple Tape of course) then become incensed when I looked, uh stared, uh gawked, uh drooled. Clearly they've conducted field studies and are aware of the effects on men. I have witnessed accidents of all sorts and on multiple occasions due to Titty Inhalation, including a man walking head first into a light pole. Who knew the human head could make such a sound (“Coong!” I believe it was?) Picture dropping a rock from eye level on an empty metal pot . . . with a microphone on the inside of the pot. I wonder if Geico has Titty insurance (“now tell me whose watchin”). So why do women put themselves (and us) through all of this if it offends them so? I just can't seem to figure out who’s the objectifier and whose being objectified. I mean, every time I unearth my penis from its sheath, the whole room fades to black, women lose focus, start trying to strike up random conversation and offer to buy me drinks. Suffice it to say,  I have learned to use "The Force" and only when necessary.  If women really wanted to be respected for other attributes and weren’t just hunting in their own passive aggressive manner, why is the first thing to turn the corner their exposed ICBM's (Intercontinental Baby-Milk Machines)?

 After engaging everyone on earth and online on this subject, I concluded the following points:  

1.  Competition is apparently at unprecedented levels as it relates to garnering attention from men and  some women feel the need to measure up to socially accepted, sex appeal standards by Any Means  Necessary (not quite sure that's what brother Malcolm intended).
   
2.  Self esteem and sex esteem have become interchangeable.
   
3.  Men like titties.
   
4.  Who am I to judge?
   

 As was pointed out to me mid-rant; we all have esteem issues, so who am I to deem one method of self valuation more appropriate than another? Afrykan that's who! And as any African will tell you, we know everything so stop defending your supercilious opinions and listen to mine. Some people work out to feel better about themselves and some read, write, dance, shop, dress scantly, drink, use drugs, etc.  A long standing solution that seems to be universally effective is loving oneself first before seeking attention from others. Some women believe pretty girls have it easier and that they need to do any and everything to resemble the desired female archetype. This may be true, however,

1.  Looks are relative and will fade.
   
2. Your personality better be as enticing as your succulent orbs. French fries alone do not a happy meal make!
   
3. For every pretty girl out there, there is a guy trying to find new and exciting ways to avoid her phone call.
   
4.  If you advertise sex, that is what men will come looking to buy.
   
5.  Whatever you looked like when men met you, you are expected to maintain that aesthetic so be careful where you set the bar.
   
6. The benefits of eating right and exercising regularly far outweigh any skimpy outfit in your repertoire. 
   

 Now if you will excuse me, I need a drink and funds are low so you know what that means. Fade to black (see above).

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Keith Olberman Divided by Bill O’Reilly Equals Jon Stewart

Either I have gotten older and wiser or television and cable networks have become extremely transparent in masking their personal agendas. What the hell has gotten into these “journalists”, for lack of an appropriate word? They’ve all mutated into abridged versions of Dennis Miller, bartering valued air time for unintelligible diatribe (does anyone ever comprehend what the fuck Dennis Miller is talking about at any point in time?) Both El Guapo and I believe that a plethora of communication mediums has caused an agonizing swell in the amount of coverage news stories receive. Do I really need to see the same story from all 18 networks concurrently (uninterrupted on PBS and en espanol en Telemundo)? Has free enterprise forced all mediums to embrace yellow journalism for the sake of ad revenue? Will Batman ever escape from the Joker’s deadly death dealing murder machine? Sorry, got carried away.

If mainstream media didn’t have as much control over public opinion, I really wouldn’t care. But I have caught myself debating my friends and associates countless times over some nonsensical story reported and perpetuated as relevant. What’s worse is the viewpoints I encounter more often than not echo the sentiments of the source from which the information was originally obtained. Network news has gotten quite adept at creating a story then making you believe their opinion is somehow yours. This is evident by their stupid ass, obviously one sided poll questions like “Do you believe people who shoot other people should be allowed to walk the streets?” Then they present these findings as statistical data to make a case against the NRA. CNN, although not alone, is great for these kinds of polls.

Remember when the “N” word was the hot button topic that we all had to address? How about school shootings, sheep cloning, saggy pants, the Iraq war, politician’s illicit behaviors, etc. . . . . The media clearly dictates our water cooler conversations. Now we are forced to embrace this Sara Palin nonsense in all its’ splendor. I have nothing against Sara (in this instance) for this is totally not her doing. We are in an election year however with unprecedented circumstances so their actually is news to report, although already bludgeoned to death. Any comment made by any candidate has been overly scrutinized, dissected, analyzed by the talking heads to no avail, and then passed on to the general public for further dismemberment. Do I really care if McCain has more houses than he can remember? My concern is if banks will be in existence by time I am ready to buy one. Is there any relevance to Obama’s comment about putting lipstick on a pig? Unless this pig is going to reform the budget, I could give a rat’s ass! And for the record, the main difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull is not just lipstick, but the lacerations and near fatal injuries sustained when attacked by these vicious animals. Something should really be done about hockey moms roaming the street without a leash. I also don’t think Mike Vick would be in jail right now if he was raising and fighting hockey milfs, uh, I mean moms, although I would definitely pay to see that!

I can no longer discern what is considered news from editorial commentary. What I do know is that there is definitely something for everyone on television’s ala carte. Does the bleeding heart leftist liberal view tickle your fancy? Why not tune into NBC for detailed accounts of how Republicans are directly responsible for the recent crane accidents and the growing numbers of puppies raped on the East Coast? Bleeding hearts not your cup of tea? How about a compelling right wing perspective from Fox News on how Democrats continue to single handedly increase the amount of category 3 hurricanes whilst facilitating the growing numbers of puppies raped in the heartland? Non Partisan? Then tune into Lou “Smug Prick’ Dobbs for factual accounts of how everyone else is an idiot except for him (also learn of his insatiable affinity for raping puppies). And for the raging cynic, let Jon “I’m Joking, but Seriously, I’m Really Not Joking” Stewart regale you with witty banter and satirical interpretations as only he can. Lets all watch as Jon translates the daily translations of other “journalists” who aren’t even aware they are ten times more hilarious simply because they take themselves seriously. Colbert and Maher, like Splenda, are readily acceptable substitutes if Jon is not available (although Maher lives on a soapbox and can be a bit much at times). Still not satisfied? Then log on to http://www.crazedafrykan.blogspot.com/ for impartial and balanced opinions on how I feel about all this shit. That’s http://www.crazedafrykan.blogspot.com/. For fair and balanced blogging!

Networks and news anchors are more focused on their own illumination as opposed to shedding light on the stories they report. I truly believe television news is just another conduit to Hollywood. I remember the good old days when anchors were horribly disfigured dotards who served no purpose other than delivering the news as objectively as possible (and sexually harassing the skirts in and around the office). Whatever happened to Roger Grimsby, Bill Buetel, Walter Cronkite and the rest of our distinguished anchor men (are they all dead)? Who is going to keep the tradition alive? I couldn’t fathom shopping for a Cronkite tell all book or purchasing a coffee mug with Peter Jennings’ likeness. Oh how times have changed. Nowadays, anchors are overly attractive show room models who could easily gain entrance into Maxim’s Bimbo of the Month club (including the men). I find myself watching the news for the same reasons I watch the Spanish channels. I’m just counting how many hotties I would love to bang (so far Good Day New York has the spice I desire but the WB is a close second).

All our news sources are 100% segregated yet we struggle to identify why the country is so polarized. We used to at least pretend to have objectivity. The only means of obtaining an impartial news story these days (other than NPR, barely) is to take the weighted average of at least 3 separate network’s report on the same story, multiply by the amount of minutes spent reporting, then throw all the shit out and turn on PS3 for some Grand Theft Auto 4! A majority of the news is bullshit anyway so try not to take the messages and the messenger too seriously. And if you don’t believe me, you can still view any of the aforementioned anchor’s TV shows for further in depth analysis. No TV? Try their radio broadcasts. No radio? Go to their website for live streaming. No computer? Buy their new children’s book “Whose Looking Out For Your Children in America, and So Can You”. Can’t read? That may be your only saving grace.

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I Am Whatever You Say I Am

Biggie Smalls is not the greatest rapper of all time. Far from it. Biggie only had 2 albums and most of the content encompassed sex, guns, violence and partying. If I had to crown an emcee with that coveted title, I would have to give it to Eminen. Marshall Mathers is a lyrical juggernaut with numerous multi platinum offerings boasting varying arrays of subject matter (including but not limited to sex, guns, violence and partying). Not only has Em had to overcome reverse racism, he is also from an area not commonly associated with hip hop, making his ascent that much more admirable. Also, Prince, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Jimi Hendrix are more or less average artists. Marvin Gaye especially annoys me. Marvin sang like his testicles were under constant duress. All in all, these guys were just not my cup of tea.

The prior paragraph was meant to be inflammatory but it always amazes me how generally accepted views are perpetuated specifically because said advocate’s values are inherited. “I am a Democrat / Republican and I will support whomever the party presents as most qualified”. I am personally unaware of anyone who has ever crossed party lines. Now is it mathematically feasible that all republicans and democrats progress their respective parties agenda at all times? Surely there are democrats longing for fiscal conservatism and republicans who view marriage as a union between a man and whatever the hell that man wants to marry (goats included). Perspective defines our identities and makes it difficult to relinquish ideals, even when those ideals are to our detriment (knowingly or unknowingly). Is it any wonder then why longstanding conflicts arise and persist simply because of contrasting views? I am not sure who is “right” in the Middle East conflicts but I do know that people have been dying for centuries in the name of land they did not create, do not own, and cannot take with them.

Were I a plantation owner in the 18th century, not only would I consider slavery an extremely practical business model, I would’ve probably led the opposition against emancipation. Once you convince yourself you are not dealing with a human being, slavery is comparable to purchasing a tractor to till your soil. We have all secretly fantasized about having our needs tended to by others while the harem feeds us grapes so are we really anti oppression or the moral indignation associated with the act? And if moral practices are man made, who’s to say they were right and just at point of origination? Because I am black, I have to disagree with slavery and its practices or run the risk of being ostracized. If I belonged to another race however, I may not be that staunchly opposed.

Why is it I entered college with medical aspirations and my older brother ended up in law school? A Nigerian doctor or lawyer is about as groundbreaking as an Irish police officer. No offense to my doctor / lawyer friends and family who I am sure will diminish in number as I continually reference them as case studies. It just seems like Nigerians are to those professions what Kenyans are to marathons. Unlike residents of Kenya however, I am not aware of any geographical predispositions that render Nigerians more adept @ litigation and or brain surgery (although arguments between my mom and I growing up could simultaneously induce an aneurism and garner tears of admiration from the Supreme Court). Much like our East Indian counterparts, I believe our career aspirations are indicative of an inherently generational status driven desire to appease our distant imperialist cousins.


Our opinions / values are representative of our assigned identities and a majority of beliefs we subscribe to are learned. Few seem able to transcend or rebuke what they’ve been taught versus what they know to be true. If one cannot relinquish destructive beliefs for fear of identity loss, how can clarity ever come into existence? Several publications, religions, and movies all resonate this message (Matrix, Fight Club, Buddhism, A New Earth to name a few) but we can only embrace these messages once we come to our own realizations. The question forever remains; Red or blue pill?

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Black in America (I’m Blacker Than You, Parts 1 & 2)

When I first got wind of CNN's 2 part documentary chronicling the black experience in America, I was a bit concerned. Secrets inherent to African Americans were soon to be exposed for all the world to see and nothing could be done to intervene. Furthermore, it was being presented in double album format and we all know how unsatisfying those can be (sans Life after Death). I feared Soledad O’Brien (host @ large) would unravel ancient quagmires such as; 1) what made black men capable of dunking a basketball, 2) our affinity for all chicken’s fried, and most importantly, C) why black women have great derrières. Once the rest of America was privy to this information, what little advantages we yielded would surely be mitigated (seems my Caucasian sisters have already discovered the lost scrolls for bigger backsides and I whole heartedly applaud their application). Much to my relief, the subject matter didn’t deal with those issues at all. After watching the entire series however, I almost wished it would have.

The CNN exposé delved into current and long standing afflictions commonly associated with African Americans. You may or may not have heard by now but all black men are in prison, none of our bastard children can read, and all our women have HIV. We are also systematically oppressed by racism and classism, and also under represented in all professional arenas except maybe sports and entertainment (not ownership of course, merely participation). In all fairness, Soledad (may I call you Soledad?) certainly referenced positive progressions made, although extremely far and few between. What was hilarious to me was how she made mention of the few positive images of Af-Ams on television as she delineated all the negatives. I guess a documentary focused on successful African Americans with everyday troubles would not have generated desired Nielsen ratings. Forecasting black Armageddon however always proves itself more lucrative. The Cosby show eternally fulfilled mainstream media’s positive influence quotient so it’s back to crack babies and Colin Ferguson for the lot of you!

Soledad’s mild hitting narrative left me with a feeling that successes of African Americans pale in comparison to our insurmountable racial, societal, medical, marital, economical, ethical, and sexual woes (we also have incurable athlete’s foot). According to CNN and the rest of the mainstream, Blacks seem to be the Washington Generals of society. We just can’t seem to get it together, unlike the rest of perfect America. Had I taken these harbingers of doom to heart, and gas prices were lower, I certainly would have attempted suicide visa vie carbon monoxide ingestion. Impending extinction has been steadily predicted for years now and has grown almost comical given the failure of fruition. I narrowly made it through “you will be shot dead before 21” and the "extinction of the black man" but I guess I shoud be awaiting second hand, illiterate, bacon induced, coronary arterial heart failure (sexually transmitted of course). There truly is no hope.

Sorry to say but the documentary was not atypical in the least. With the exception of the assumed co host, who is apparently the lost member of Digable Planet (what’s the deal with the guy in the paper boy hat and his spoken word segways before commercial breaks), everything else was rather trite. As always, our esteemed talking heads bestowed their offerings on the issues at hand, and rightfully so. What self respecting documentary would be complete without the foremost authoritarians to enlighten us on why shit is so fucked up? Reverend Dr. Michael Eric “8 Syllable” Dyson amongst others, made valid and numerable contributions as they have in forums past when called upon to diagnose social ailments.

“Comprehension is not requisite for cooperation.” (Dr. Cornell West was most profound in the Matrix). Councilor West’s statement absolutely holds true but if I remain loyal to my conspiratorial roots, I can’t very well adhere to messages presented without inquiry now can I? Something just didn’t make sense here. Could it be that CNN was pandering to the Negro constituent base at a time when race is such a hot button topic? Nooses, black presidential candidates and mulatto news anchors aside, there has never been a better time to address black America. CNN spent 4 prime time hours discussing tertiary effects while the root cause of all our quandaries was sparsely addressed; IT’S SLAVERY STUPID! They should have just shown Alex Hailey’s Roots instead of wasting my time. Slavery was barely referenced and for that not to be the centralized focus is akin to rescinding the Atom Bomb’s effects on Hiroshima. When someone can identify an issue unique to blacks that doesn’t stem directly from slavery and the ramifications thereof, please shoot me an email.

Now this is not a knock on Soledad or CNN (of course it is) but I also don’t believe the black experience, if there is such a thing, can be reduced to a 4 hour miniseries. There are too many varying components that coexist, rendering the “Black in America” experience indefinable. First generation immigrants and their assimilation to American culture, lack of challenging and relatable curriculums in public education, and 2 part documentaries that circumvent the issues would have to be addressed in order to encapsulate my personal experience, as an example. In addition, African Americans remain 12-14 % of the populous so while disproportionately affected, we are not exclusive to these problems. “America in Blacks” would have been a more apt title.

I firmly believe Black issues will taper off at some point in the future (or at least be replaced by more interesting Spanish or Asian problems). We are what, the third or fourth generation allowed to attend schools without armed escorts and to actually amass wealth? As Nas stated, we are “America’s teenagers”. We also have active laws that prosecute solely on racial bias so we still have a ways to go (see Rockefeller, drug laws / bullshit). 45 years ago, we were being hosed down and forced to drink from “colored only” water fountains. Now we have rights somewhat but should know better than to drink from any public fountains for they all have streptococcal cultures lurking below the spigot. Now that’s progress! America was not the nation it is now 45 years after gaining independence and “Black” America will be no different. Patience young Padawan. I do think we will progress faster once we start viewing all issues as American, void of racially divisive codifications.

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Ugly

What exactly does ugly mean? I would like to define ugly as Wendy Williams and Star Jones mud wrestling without make up. Better still; Shabba Ranks in the morning after a hard night of drinking and bar fights. Bubba Sparxx tried to enlighten us a few years back regarding the subjectivity of ugly but we as good Americans, as always, do not take heed. The contextual definition is as follows; Displeasing to the eye; unsightly. Morally reprehensible; bad. Threatening or ominous. I thought about what ugly really meant as I watched Flavor of Love reruns (forced against my will of course. A self professed intellect such as myself could never reduce his standards of fine television entertainment to the likes of Sir Flav-a-lot & Co). Flavor of Love was yet another unnecessary ornament on the scripted reality TV Christmas tree. The premise of the show is such that, one lucky female contestant will merit the opportunity to become the significant other of Flavor Flav (of Public Enemy fame). The catch; Flavor Flav is not traditionally referenced when discussing handsome men unless offered as a counter argument. The lucky lady, if that is what you want to call her, will get the opportunity to share the lavish rock star lifestyle that Flavor allegedly leads. Popular perception is Flav has no real riches and hasn’t for quite some time. Be that as it may, these women seem hell bent on winning Flav over with their charm and professions of undying love for their “bookie boo”.

The ugliest part of the show in my opinion, are the contestants. These aspiring gold diggers / fame hungry pheasants, with the exception of Hoops whom I love dearly (she’s hot) , are at best, D rated actresses striving to achieve the American dream; Capitalize and achieve financial stability at all costs! No one seems to care that these women, most of whom have a translucent layer of stripper residue coating there outer shell, are not in it for love. Now I could waste your time with yet another self righteous, hackneyed attempt at moral enlightening regarding inner beauty and emotional gratification, but that is not why you are here is it? You want to be entertained so here goes; why am I so compelled to watch this crap? I know it is crap. The producers of the show know its crap. I’m sure Flav knows its crap. So if I know all this, why can’t I turn off the radio (thank you Ne-Yo?). Truth be told, I too am a part of the shallow whole that can’t seem to get over outer appearance. My disdain for reality television is trumped time and again by my fascination with beauty. I, like most people, make my initial decision for a partner solely on aesthetics. There are of course, other more pertinent reasons why she may retain the position but first and foremost, my shorty is probably hot son! Does that make me shallow Hal? Is my morality tank on E because my decision for a life partner initially encompasses the diameter of her succulent orbs (breast and / or buttocks)? I guess I should feel empty but I don’t. I, like Kanye West, have learned to embrace my shallow side and revel in all the short lived gratifications that it brings. As much as I would like to believe otherwise, I am no better or worse than anyone else. I am a toddler still attracted to all things shiny when dangled before me. So I would like to urge all the devout fans of Flavor of Love and every other program on the reality TV mobile to keep watching! One day, we all will be maggot meat so we may as well enjoy beauty in all its ugliness.

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