Giving Back My Ghetto Pass (Part II)

Since blackness is narrowly defined, and I've been outside of those definitions for quite some time, I'm giving my ghetto pass back. Here are twenty reasons:

1) Not only was I born and raised in Des Moines, IA, Des Moines is also in my top four cities in the US (along with Columbus, OH, Chicago, IL, and Madison, WI).

2) I have never had a cool nickname. Verbal is closest, but it usually reminds people of the crazy white dude in the Usual Suspects.

3) Wonder Bread and Miracle Whip are delicious.

4) I only have one dance move - side to side. And every now and then, I bend my knees. And some of the time, that one dance move doesn't work like it should.

5) OJ did it.

6) So did R. Kelly and Michael Jackson.

7) I'm perfectly okay with dating outside of the race... so long as it's not dating outside just to say you did it.

8) I have voted for a Republican in my lifetime, and it's not beyond me to do it again.

9) Seinfeld is one of the funniest shows ever.

10) I have no "black accent". As a matter of fact, I sound like my mom and dad fed me the dictionary until I was 18.

11) Even though I'm not as angry as I used to be, I still get angry at individual people far more than other races. So you won't find me trying to find racism in a box of Shredded Wheat or railing on how Jews run the world.

12) I don't "buy black" for the sake of doing it. Best bargains get my money every time. So sorry, Sean John and Roca Wear. I'd rather hang at Target and still look good while keeping more money in my pocket.

13) If the average size of a black penis is 37" like one is lead to believe, then I'm hung like a fruitfly.
(Wait a minute... I can't lie about this one. I'm really hung like a f*cking blue whale. Let's skip this one and move to #14)

14) Although football is my favorite sport, I'd rather watch skateboarding, motorcross, and Winter X games over basketball any day.

15) Outrageous jewelry and pimped out cars make me feel like I'm bleeding on the inside. Give me an almost-new Honda Accord over an Escalade sitting on 22s any day.

16) I won't, under any circumstance, watch BET. I haven't watched BET since they fired Tavis Smiley and won't start watching it now.

17) I have good credit.

18) I don't refer to myself as African-American. I'm not from Africa, neither were my parents, their parents, or their parents. That sh*t annoys me, just like it does for people that are at least three or four generations removed from being Italian, Irish, or any other ethnicity.

19) I can name 10 country AND 10 classical songs that I LIKE.


20) I have no bitterness toward any police department. I DO have bitterness toward the police who abuse their power... just like I have bitterness toward any m*thaf*cka in the business world or even in relationships that do things that equate to the same amount of damage.

So there you have it. Even though I have dark skin, I'm done with this whole being black thing. It sucks. Rip up my ghetto pass. I'm done with it. I don't know how to classify myself... but I think I'm better off figuring that out down the road.

Tummy Tucks, Michael Jackson, and My Lack of Blackness (Part I)

So now that the Michael Jackson hysteria is dying down, I'm starting to realize something... as much as people ripped on him in his life and death about his not wanting to be black anymore, no one ever presented the alternative viewpoint...

But in order to present the alternative... let's "pretend" for a second that Michael never had a skin disease. Let's "pretend" that he made all the physical changes himself. Now most people pretend that already, but what about the other rumors that circulated that no one paid attention to?

The Jackson family loved their mom, but despised their dad. The man was obsessive, strict beyond belief, and never allowed the kids to be kids. Of all the Jackson kids, none was more anti-dad than Michael. There was a book out that said that Michael was so afraid of his dad, that he'd vomit at the mere sight and sound of him. That's pretty harsh.

What makes it worse is that, if you look at the pictures closely, Michael looked more like daddy than any of the other kids. How would that make you feel... to look like the spitting image of someone that you wanted to drive a bus over? Michael was in that boat, and he lived with it everyday.

Knowing that, and knowing that Michael had all the money in the world, he decided to use that money to change everything about him that remotely resembled his dad. He went from being a virtual Joe Jr by appearance to being... something else. Is that REALLY anti-black? Or is it someone who had the reason and resources to change the things about him that resembled what he didn't like about himself (which is resemblance to pops)?

If we're still "pretending" that he changed his own physical appearance, then I'd argue that, not only is it the latter, but that we can all relate to it in some way, shape, or form. Check this out...

Ladies have a hell of a standard to live up to on a daily basis. Some women despise looking in the mirror because they are too dark... others because the hair is too kinky or that tummy has too many bulges in it or the boobs were too little. Guys, same thing. someone out there probably made you feel like sh*t about your darkness, hair, or even your d*ck size. And not only that, but someone out there has probably helped in beating in the "negative" things about them. The effect of that is wishing that you could change those things. You can straighten or color your hair, then lie about how straight or light it really is. You can get a tummy tuck and tell everyone that 900 crunches a day did the trick. Whatever it is, there are wishes galore that, if unlimited resources were available, they would be used to enhance that physical appearance. You could add a couple inches to your d*ck and say that everyone was delusional about how little it was. Whatever the situation, money and time would be able to fix it.

Michael did the same thing. He changed his hair, skin tone, cheekbones, nose, and chin... and now, he looks more like Diana Ross than his dad. That doesn't make him anti-black. That makes him rich and able to do something about his features... yet he constantly got beat up because he doesn't like being black. Wow.

And not to get on a tangent, but that sh*t drives me crazy. I hate the narrow definition of blackness. You have to be a certain tone, you have to talk a certain way, you have to act a certain way, you have to hang with certain people, you have to have certain interests... that's pretty messed up. And I guess it gets my blood boiling, because I've been perceived as the farthest thing from being black for damn near my whole life. It's one thing to hate on Michael because you don't like his music or the child-molesting thing. It's another to call him anti-black because of sh*t that you don't even know about.

You know what? F*ck it. I'm turning in my ghetto pass. Seriously. Here it is. I don't f*ckin want it. Use it as toilet paper or something. I'm not black anymore. I'm whiter than white rice on a white paper plate and a white napkin with a glass of milk and vanilla ice cream on the side. Don't believe it? I'll give you 20 reasons why I'm no longer black. Check it out in the next blog...

I'm A Grown-Up... And That F*cking Sucks...

I was reading through a Men's Health seasonal magalog, and the thing was organized in lists this time. There was one list in there that discusses the points in a guy's life where he has "matured" from a kid to an adult. It was an interesting list... there were things in it which made me laugh in agreement... like no longer having the desire to get an athlete's autograph or fantasizing about a MILF that is the same age as me...

But this past weekend, I found that I was able to add to the list...

Let me give you some background to how I realized that somehow, I have grown up...

Four or five years ago (true story), me and a couple people were walking through a park on a nice, sunny Saturday afternoon. There was a festival going on at this park. People were all over the place having a good time. Single people, not-so-single people, families, and pets were all over the place. The music was loud and live, there were plenty of games... all around, it was a good time outside for all.

So we were walking around, beers in hand. All of us enjoyed the games and the music... until we decided that we had enough after about two or three hours. We started walking out, when we heard some noise in a corner. So we decided to play Sherlock Holmes to see what it was. Over to the corner we go, and there were two people, a guy and a woman. Both had no pants on, and he was hammering the hell out of her. In semi-drunken states, we watched for a minute, because we thought it was funny, hot, and definitely not something you'd expect to see. I mean it was classic... these two people were oblivious and clearly didn't give a f*ck what was happening around them. So after a few minutes of watching, I started yelling for the dude to life her leg higher and get deeper. The other people started laughing and cheering. The couple got a little embarased, put their clothes back on as quickly as possible, and took off. And we all ended up with memories that last a lifetime.

Fast forward a few years to last weekend. I had my daughter last weekend. We decided to enjoy an evening stroll by letting her ride her bike while I chased her. The park down the street has a big walking path that we really like, so we headed down there. The two of us got to the park and got on her bike. She had her helmet on and was ready to fly, when what does she see happening on the swing set? Two people... a guy and a girl. The girl was sitting in the swing, and the guy was between her legs. She was wearing a short skirt, so at the very least, they were making out. And my daughter caught a nice view from a distance. She looks at me, and asks me what they were doing. I told her that they're whispering secrets in each other's ears and that we shouldn't pay attention. But in my mind, I thought "What the f*ck are those two people doing?!?! They need to take that sh*t to the hotel! My daughter doesn't need to see that sh*t! That's f*cking disgusting!"

Not only did I think that, but I even tried to break it up. I had my daughter get off her bik and run around the path with me. I told her that when we got to a certain point on the track, to yell as loud as she can while she ran as fast as she could. That certain point was when we would be about 10 feet away from the oblivious couple. So, she did it and scared the sh*t out of the couple... enough that they got back in their car and went somewhere else. Now I was happy but still slightly agitated that my daughter saw that...

So what does that have to do with growing up?

Well... the first thought in my mind five years ago was how f*cking cool it was to see a sex scene hidden in a public place. The first thought in my mind last weekend was that it was disgusting and they needed to get a room so my daughter isn't traumatized by those perverts. I don't know if that's maturity or me getting old at the ripe old age of 31.

Pretty messed up, huh?

So what do you think it is... maturity, getting old, or something else? Have you ever had a moment that smacked you in the ass and you realized that you really are a grown m*thaf*cka?

In Defense of Chris Brown and Rihanna

I got into this debate last night about the reports that Chris Brown and Rihanna are back together after he threw some blows on her. Of the people that I was arguing with, not one of them was content that the two were trying to work things out.

Except one person.

Me.

So of course, I came off as the bad guy, because it looked like I was okay with him beating up his woman.

I'd like to take this moment to publicly defend myself and the couple, knowing good and damn well I'm probably in the minority.

First off, I'm not cool with beating up your woman. Let me make that crystal clear. If a woman puts you in the position where you even think about what it would be like to leave your handprint on her face (let alone actually doing it), you shouldn't be in that relationship. Had he done that to anyone in my family or any of my friends, he wouldn't be singing or dancing anymore. Maybe he'd be limping instead and sounding like a smoker who has that machine attached to their throat after I was done with him. But that's not the point.

That said, I'm going to say it like this - if Rihanna wants to work it out with him, more power to her. If not, that's completely understandable too. But there isn't a person on this planet, man or woman, and at least at this point in THEIR relationship, that should feel like berating her for HER choice. I'll give you three big reasons that we should stay the f*ck out of their lives.

1) How many of you people have ever cheated on your boo? Go on... raise your hands. No one will see you. Now... how many of you wish like hell that you never did that? Still holding your hands up I see... good. Now how many of you are so glad that your hunny took you back after you f*cked up? Wow... no hands went down. Surprising. Guess what? You are now in the same boat as Chris Brown. Whether it's cheating, smacking your man or woman, stealing his or her sh*t, plain old actin a fool or whatever... he f*cked up to the level that his relationship should/could end, and you've been there too. And he knows he f*cked up. And because he's human, just like EVERYONE else, he's bound to f*ck up in his life. Jeez, Chris is only 19 and she JUST turned 21... both young and still learning! Just because he f*cks up doesn't mean that he shouldn't be forgiven and should remain in a life of solitude. None of us were there when it happened or have the back-story, so just accept the fact that both he and Rihanna are mortal people who make emotional decisions too... not all of which are the smartest. And EVERYONE deserves a second chance at some point in their lives. We are not the ones to decide which people should or should not get them.

2) Speaking of them being human, why the hell do we put celebrities on a f*cking pedestal? They have money. Our kids sing their songs. They smiled when we asked for an autograph. He looks great in the new Calvin Klein ad. So what?? The tiny bit we know about celebrities is just that - a tiny bit. We don't know what they're really like, so we shouldn't assume that just because a m*thaf*cka dances with the Cheetah Girls on the Disney Channel, he should be held to a moral standard far above any that we are already on. Celebrities are just as likely to be addicts, nymphos, pyros, cleptos, or woman beaters as anyone else. Just get over yourselves, and realize that he's a celebrity, but first and foremost, he's a person too... for better or worse. Shame on anyone who thought for a second that he, or any other celebrity, was on a higher plain than the rest of us and are judging them accordingly. You should be publicly beaten for that.

3) We don't know the whole story. Period. And, again, I don't say that to condone what he did. But we really don't. And we shouldn't know the story, because it's not our business (i.e. f*ck the media for making them stars, then bringing them down the way that they've tried). We don't know if Chris Brown has a history of smacking women, or if it was his first time. We don't know if Rihanna has a history of relationships with woman-beaters, or if it was her first time. We don't know if there was a text message that started the whole thing... and if there was, we don't know what it said. All we can do is assume from the tiny little fragments of information that have come out. And since we don't know the whole story, we don't know why she's taking him back. All we should do is live our own damn lives without passing judgment on others, even if the others in the spotlight make it really easy for us to judge them.

Here's my message to the two - you both have issues just like the rest of the world. I hope that both of you are able to move past this ugly mess as stronger people - and I don't care if you do it with or without each other. Just please realize that violence isn't needed and that it shouldn't be tolerated. Stop reading the papers that judge your actions and just do the best that you can do.

Chick Flicks and a Loss of Manliness

So my office was a sponsor of the movie Mamma Mia! I didn't know anything about the movie... only that some girl was on the poster with a bright smile and a flowing dress... which usually means chick flick. Most of the time, chick flick, for me, means to find something better to do with two hours of your life. Now, I'll be honest. I don't hate ALL chick flicks... just MOST of them. I was really bored to watch the ones I do like... but they just aren't something I would choose to watch. Mamma Mia was no different.

Well, our office is sponsoring the movie. The result of the sponsoring was a free ticket to a pre-opening night screening for every employee. That wasn't enough to sway me... my toenail clipping time took priority over a free movie - ESPECIALLY chick flicks. Then my boss (yes, the one who has been blogged about recently) offered to pay for my dinner just so he wouldn't be the only guy there. Free dinner, free movie... I can deal with that.

There were two bad things about the movie - First, Pierce Brosnan can't sing. Not a single note. It's one of those things where you know he can't sing... you just can't visualize a former James Bond singing ABBA songs. But he's terrible. I'd rather listen to New Kids On The Block Sings The Blues. The movie was tolerable until he opened his non-singing lips. Then it went downhill quickly.

Speaking of downhill, there was one other thing wrong with the movie. The ending. The ending wasn't a bad one. It was the amount of singing towards the end that was killing me. Throughout the movie, it wasn't too overwhelming. But the last half hour, there was so much singing that I was ready to drive my forehead through a brick wall just so I didn't have to hear it anymore.

All of that said, it wasn't a bad movie. There were funny parts and cute parts and even a little bit of action. Outside of Pierce's singing, his acting wasn't that bad... and neither was the rest of the cast. My official rating of the movie - 2.5 out of 5 stars. (And btw - the movie was based on ABBA songs... is it bad that after seeing the movie, the ONLY ABBA song I recognized was still Dancing Queen? Is it bad that I was even happier I didn't grow up listening to them? I mean it was fun, but to have to hear it on a regular basis... )

Of course, this movie makes me wonder - why do guys hate chick flicks so much? Or am I the only guy who hates them? Maybe it's because they defy everything that is masculine? I mean... most of my movies have crass jokes, probably a sex scene or at least a really long topless scene, some action and maybe some blood. A chick flick plot has something to do with a relationship that went sour and how it was fixed. A d*ck flick plot has something do with their best friend getting killed and getting revenge. I definitely fall into the other category... and after seeing Mamma Mia, I think I need to watch the entire Rocky series backed by Alien and Predator movies until my chest hairs grow back.

Fakes, Phonies, and Borderline Racists (Venting Time!)

Today could've been a day where I threw my boss out a second story window... but I didn't do it.

I wanted to... but I didn't.

I wanted to do it, because he said some sh*t that he shouldn't have. And it's the second time in a week where someone I worked with said some sh*t. And it's only my fourth week.

The first time (which actually followed a series of times not directed to me but said around me), my co-worker called me "dawg." It happened so quickly that I didn't know what to say or how to respond. So I didn't. She also says "nahmean?" and "word." And she is one of the whitest people I know. She speaks the Queen's English and listens to the B-52s. The ONLY person she talks like that around is ME. She clearly feels like she has to adjust her normal grammar around the black guy. The most recent time she got me was when we worked together on a project and made it through successfully a lot quicker than we thought. I said "Hell yeah!" She said the same. Then she put her hand out to me to give me dap. And I did it back without thinking about it! DAMMIT! So before I had a chance to let it digest, I asked her if she says the same things around me that she does to everyone else. She said "Of course!" I challenged her on that, and she got the idea and said she'd watch that next time. Today, we were free and clear of any of that sh*t. Cool.

Today was a different challenge. My melanin-deficient boss decided to come out of his office and socialize with us. We were talking about another co-worker's car. Apparently, he drives one of those Scion cars that is shaped like a toaster. And not only that, but the thing is lime green too. My boss said something about the co-worker being secure enough in his manhood to drive it. I said I'd never drive something like that. He said, "Not unless it has some 22s on it, huh?" And he busts out laughing. I looked at my co-workers and they nervously laughed as I did. HE thought he just told the greatest joke on the planet and walked off. So I followed him into his office.

I asked him why he said that. He said he thought it was funny and asked if I did too. I asked him if he would've said anything like that to a co-worker... maybe one of the two white females I worked with. He said no, and I asked him why not. He didn't answer. I told him that I have two college degrees, have been a professional in the field for four years, talks just like he does, and even has the same eclectic music taste he does. I asked him what made him think that kind of joke would fly with me. Again, no answer. Before the silence got too awkward, I told him that I'm not angry, but his joke was a bit racist and he needs to keep it to himself. He apologized that I was offended and didn't see how it could've been racist. I told him that the day that he, his wife, or any of the others in our office drives on 22s, THEN it wouldn't be racist. But reserving those jokes for the black guy is. Again, he apologized, but this time, he said that maybe it was out of line and it won't happen again. I thanked him, and left.

Now this situation could've been a lot worse. I really wanted to take my keyboard and smack him in his grill with it. And not only because of what he said... I just have a problem with people who act differently with one person than they would another... because of a PERCEIVED difference. And I've always gotten along better with people who are true to themselves, no matter how dorky or ugly they might be. Here's an example.

Justin Timberlake gets on my m*thaf*ckin nerves. It's not that his music is bad... actually, it is pretty terrible. But it's that he's a fake. He's a phony. He'll walk around sounding like what he THINKS black people should sound like, because he thinks that's cool. How do I know that he's a fake? Watch the video of what happened when he was got Punk'd:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-14EtDvp3w




DAMN!!! A person who thinks he's thugged out won't lose his thuggishness when he's scared! He called his mama and started to cry!!! WHAT THE F*CK?!

Now his former partner in crime, JC Chasez is a cool dude! Have you seen him on America's Best Dance Crew? He wears some of the ugliest sh*t on the planet! He's like the male Paula Abdul! He wears ugly bowties and ugly shirts... but the best part is that he is totally comfortable wearing it! You know good and well that he wore that before the cameras were rolling and after they stopped. Now THAT is someone that is comfortable in his own skin. THAT is someone who is going to treat everyone the same! I could see Justin Tims saying anything that my co-workers did and then changing it up to socialize with someone else... I don't see JC rolling like that though... and that's a GOOD thing!

Blessings for the Penis

How many people know who the guy is in the picture above? Don't worry. No one can see you if you do.

For those that don't know, his born name is Clifton Todd Britt. Mr. Britt is a graduate of Syracuse University, a member of Omega Psi Phi fraternity, and was smart enough to land a spot as a stock broker within six months of graduating from college. He even did some modeling and acting in small parts on the side. But that wasn't making the ends meet.

This educated brotha decided to take his chances and move from the east coast to the west coast in pursuit of greater acting possibilities. And that is exactly what he found. Mr. Britt cashed in on his good looks and his LARGE personality (oh yeah... and his 11 x 7 incher) and gave himself the stage name that you may recognize as Lexington Steele.

I say the guy is smart, but he REALLY is a smart dude - he has a very keen business sense. He started in porn acting, but he is now also a director and producer of his movies. What does that mean? It means he stars in some of his movies, he picks who is "acting" in them, he guides the movie as he sees fit, he controls how his image is portrayed, and he's making serious bucks from the porn world.

Why am I focusing on his brains?

Because he said something that he clearly thought long and hard about (no pun intended). I came across a quote of his that has me really wondering about some things.

One of the things about Mr. Britt/Mr. Steele is that he is not only intelligent, but he's deeply religious. He grew up in a Baptist household and carries his religious beliefs with him everyday, in regards to being a believer AND a porn star. Check out one of his statements:

"Yes, I am religious. I am Christian, Baptist. I grew up in as close to a Cosby-show lifestyle as you can get. Doing porno, on a repeated basis, I am committing Coitus interruptus like Onan. I'm not married, so I'm fornicating for a living. I'm paid to have sex, which means what? I'm prostituting by definition. These are things I have to reckon with my God on a daily basis. I knowingly do these things.

"My decision to do porno has forced me to take my religion within. Because of my job I am stronger in my relationship with God, because now I take God with me everywhere I go; if I don't, I'll fail. I didn't know that God blessed me with an abnormally large penis that allows me to make porno. But I feel blessed. I believe I am blessed because I am meant to please one woman for the rest of our lives together. True, I haven't met her yet."

He also said this:

"People who are spiritual, like myself, we carry our spirituality inside of ourselves. I don't believe any institution has any hierarchy on my personal relationship with God. I have been blessed with physical attributes that have allowed me to provide entertainment. What I do is not illegal, so I am not at odds with anything. I'm not married so I am not committing adultery. If I be damned for fornication, then I am no much unlike then the billions of people who walk this earth today."

Wow.

Here's my interpretation of what Mr. Steele just said. He said that he knows and believes he is meant to please one woman, but because he's blessed with a big penis, he's going to use it to entertain. He also said that if he's fornicating, he's just like billions of others... which almost sounds like the "everyone else is doing it, so I'll do it too" argument.

(I'm not sure, but didn't God strike down cities that were guilty of fornication? To me, that's a sign that says that if you believe, you shouldn't whip it out for money or for free. But that's me. And that's not the point.)

Mr. Steele is even more astonishing, because, given his degree, looks, and previous career doing other things, it's not like he didn't have options. He could've done ANYTHING, but made the clear and conscious decision to make his money in the sex industry.

I don't find this much different from the music artist who raps about the love of drugs, hoes, and guns... and then thanks God for hooking them up with awards and prizes. It almost seems like a justification of a lifestyle. They have physical and mental attributes that will help them make money. And because they have the attributes and are using them a lot, God must have wanted it to be that way.

So here are my questions... Do you think that Mr. Britt/Mr. Steele and others use God to justify inappropriate actions, or are they all right? To what extent should a belief in a higher power influence an occupation and what a person does to keep the bills paid and stay alive? Maybe one of these days, I'll have an answer... but today, I'll just think about it and revisit later...