I’m kidding…? Moving on…

Yesterday, I ventured into “downtown” Philly to handle some parking ticket business. As I boarded the train I was gearing up to beef with the Philadelphia Parking Authority (also known as PPA as seen on the TV show Parking Wars). If you have spent any amount of time in Philly, you know that these people don’t play. They have no mercy and take all prisoners.

As I got off the train to head to the office, I saw a white man holding a Bible high in the air, waving it like he just didn’t care. Curious, I continued to observe him, all the while anticipating what would come out of his mouth. He was yelling at the top of his lungs “Jesus is Lord!! If you don’t surrender to Him, you’re going to burn in HELL!!” Soon after, his associates (who looked no older than 12, bless their hearts) aided in his spreading the good news and gave him a megaphone. This guy was really in business now!

Here he was, a young white male with a country accent, possibly indicative of him coming from rural PA (he’s actually from Smyrna, DE…who knew), standing on a street corner yelling the Word of God. While I am supporter of spreading the Gospel, I had to wonder about his approach. I don’t know how people will take a man yelling promises of damnation and eternal hell burning. I have never heard John 3:16 sound so cruel and unusual before.

Whenever you are trying to deliver any message, be it about the Gospel or the philosophical origins of basket weaving, you must first consider your audience. I wish this man consulted me before he came to spread the Word. I could have given him some advice:

You should not try to scare people toward the Love of God.

Its just antithetical. Don’t be silly.

People are most likely not going to take kindly to you yelling at them.

People aren’t going to flock to a guy telling them they are going to burn until they get saved unless that guy is a doctor and they all have the clap and he holds their saving grace…pills and prescription ointment. There is so much other goodness he could have mentioned.

People will tune you out.

Generally, people walk away from those standing on street corners hooping and hollering, no matter what the message is. Had he and his associates taken a more personal approach and said some kind words as they handed out those little pamphlets, maybe I would feel differently.

Take notes from the card trick man.

Also during my time downtown (pause), I saw a crowd flocked around some black dude standing behind two card board boxes outfitted with three bottle caps. This guy knew how to draw a crowd, as he bragged about how good he was at hiding some little ball under the caps. Even I poked my head (pause) betwixt the other bystanders to take a look-see. Boy did I wish I had a C-note to bet…I could have cleaned up because he wasn’t that good. Maybe if Mr. Smyrna had a cool talent, he would have been more effective.

And who knows, maybe some people responded to this approach. I may go back later to see how he made out, except I probably won’t.

I am always amused by people who claim that they are “owt”, “good”, or any other adjective that can be used to describe a positive sense of one’s Greek self. There are just so many people out there who are sadly mistaken. You know who they are. Some of them are connected to you, whether you admit it or not, through some network. Some of them are your sorors, frat brothers, line kin, classmates, co-workers, or even family members.

These are the type of people that feel the need to big themselves up ALL the time. They are probably claiming to be the “owtest” such and such. By “owt” they may mean: well known, strolling/hopping beasts, respected for their process, etc etc. To those who know these people, even from a distance, its pretty clear that they actually lame and the opposite of “owt”. Behind this mask of owtness though, lies a pained and corny person.

And make no mistake about it. You do not have to be Greek to spot the type of lame that makes you want to kick them in the neck wag your finger at them in shame. If you are a person with any amount of sense and self respect, you too look at these people and shake your head in embarrassment for them.

As a member of a certain BGLO, it saddens me to see members of my sorority embarrassing me and the legacy of my founders by putting themselves on blast on public internet venues. For example, to be a member of a BLGO you have be first and foremost, college educated. So why the hell are your facebook statuses riddled in spelling errors? Take a step back from your owtness and proofread. If you claim to be so this and that, why are displaying behaviors that are antithetical to the values of your organization (excessive nakedness, mentioning your failed relationships, cussing every other word, blasting your questionable activities)?

I have compiled a list of pointers for these people.

Go hide under a rock.

Stop embarrassing yourself and your organization. Go hide your face and stop wearing your letters.

Put your foot in your mouth.

And leave it there. You sound terrible when you speak.

Disable your Facebook account.

This only aids in further embarrassment.

Go back to where you came from.

By this I mean the place that made you. Maybe it wasn’t their fault you turned out the way you did. Go ask for advice and take heed to any admonishing you receive.

Just cut it out. Seriously.

Its like the boy who cried wolf. If you cry “owt” and do dumb and questionable things resulting in an inability to verify said “owtness”, people will start to doubt you.

Don’t think that because people roll with you, you are cool.

No. Nope. Not at all. Its called group think. People are afraid to speak up and tell you about yourself because you are probably scary. Or worse, they have bought into your lameness.

Go to your nearest supermarket and get you a batch of shame.

Clearly, you have little to none. If you did, you would probably be more decisive about your behavior.

Before I start getting hate mail, I shall stop here. If you have spotted any of these lames, or want to add to the list of pointers, please share your perspective below.

Yep. I called this. Brett’s age is coming back to remind him as to why he fake retired in March. After 5 days of practice, his arm is “fatigued.” If you are surprised by this, shame on you. We all saw this from a mile away. For all the true blue (sorry…I know the Giants wear blue…wasn’t trying to be mean) Jets fans out there, I sure hope you have kept your superbowl dreams in check. I LOVE Brett Farve, but I was waiting for his senior status to start shining through.

Last week, he was all hype and excited because he was going to keep playing football. He hadn’t been working out with a team, or studying or anything. And now that the ink has dried, he’s singing the same tune he sang before last season ended. Here are two things that he said that ticked me off a little.

“I hate to study.”

You better get over this quick, fast, and in a hurry. You’re with a new team, buddy. Studying is what you need to do more than anything. Don’t go in there screwing up.

“I’m surprised that…I’ve been able to make it through practice”

Are you friggin kidding me? Surprised? Give me a break. You carped and moaned about coming back. Now you’re back with a team that doesn’t lick your balls footballs and now you’re crying about hating practice. Not as great as you envisioned it huh?

Do check out this article and video. Brett does nothing but make excuses about how he “can’t promise superbowls” or anything fancy, but he can promise his effort. Take your effort somewhere else dude. We want instantaneous change here in NY!

You know, its becoming clear that Brett is a pretty boy. Not pretty boy in the sense that he gets his nails done and eyebrows waxed; pretty boy in the sense that he thinks its about him. He retires, and then gets all anxious and decides, “Syke. Just kidding. Ok, let me back in now,” expecting the Packers to welcome him back with open arms and salary caps after months of planning for a season without him. While I don’t agree with how it all went down, let’s be real here.

Then he creates all this hype, directly and not, and comes to a new team that has been in desperate need of some saving grace. And after a week back he’s like, “Uh Coach, can I like, not, uh, throw for the whole length of practice? My arm is 38 years old. Plus I don’t really like practice anyway. I just want to play in the real games.” You wanted to be starter again, and dammit you better practice like one. The red carpet treatment doesn’t fly in the Big Apple.

You know, I don’t want you to think I don’t love the guy. But I’ll be gosh darned if he comes to my home state, signs to the green jerseyed stepchild team, get their hopes all up, and then lets them down. Wait until he sees his face on the cover of the Post or something…maybe then he’ll learn.

Brett, my advice to you: go get a Gatorade, a protein bar, and a masseuse for that old arm. I cut no slack around here.

Without fail, traveling the subway yields yet another frightening experience. When you travel any where, it is always important to be aware of your surrounding just in case you need to pick someone out of a line up later. While I sat in an NYC subway station with my homie, I glanced up from my oh so entertaining crossword game on my phone to see what was good around me. To our right, I noticed a man who seemed a bit inebriated, but not too much of a threat. He seemed to be playfully flirting with a woman, but after I saw her scurry toward to the other end of the platform, I thought, uh oh, this guy could be an issue.

Nonetheless, I continued to play the game with my friend, glancing up ever few seconds to see where dude was. Just as I thought the cost was clear, things started to get ugly. The man made his way over to where my friend and I were sitting. As he walked over, he repeated “I just want to ::insert a choice four letter word here:: about 4 or 5 times. Thankfully he was thoughtful enough to warn those with children to “cover their ears”.

When it became apparent that he was coming to sit next to us, my friend and I tensed up. The last few minutes revealed a few things about this subway man: he was possibly drunk, high, medicated, suffering from mental illness, or some combination of the four, and he had little regard for the personal space of others. These things combined make for a very unpredictable situation.

As he sat next to my friend, subway man proceeded to look at my friend and comment on her physical appearance. No, he didn’t “Why miss, don’t you look lovely today?” He more or less verbally harassed her, commenting on what he perceived her age to be, and how she had several body parts that made her look like a woman. He was sure to note that because of how old she looked, he would probably get in trouble with the law if he tried to pursue something further with her.

While he made these highly offensive comments, my friend and I sat frozen with shock, fear, a little pinch of disgust, and a dash of concern. As she held on my iPhone for dear life, and I sat leaned in very close to her in poor attempt to protect her somehow, it was very clear that neither one of us really knew what to do. Were we to get up, at the risk of him following us? Should we have said something? Trust, I tried to think of something witty, yet stern to get him to bug off, but I couldn’t formulate the words.

The option we choose was…well, we didn’t really choose one. One could argue that we choose to be strong and silent. However, for me, it was almost as though I felt defenseless. If you know anything about me, I like to protect people. In this case, I didn’t know what to do to protect my friend from his words.

Thankfully, the train finally arrived and gave us our chance to make a break for it. As we got up and scurried for the train, harassing subway man followed. We did a little stick and move trick to ditch him and hopped on the train. For a while, my friend and I just looked at each other with wide eyes and bushy tails and shook our heads in disbelief at what just occurred.

Sadly, this story is not unique to us. The NY Metro featured an article on this subject. Its easy to make fun of the “crazy” people on the subway or on the streets. Its also easy to disregard stories like this, or even experiences like this, as nothing to be bothered by because he was just some guy on the subway and not a boss or co-worker. But a violation is a violation. Ick.

Yesterday, I had my first Bolt Bus experience. It’s the new alternative to riding the lame Greyhound or Peter Pan to get to and from a few major cities in the Northeast. My trip was between Philly (boo) and NYC (yay!).

I was excited to make this trip for a few reasons. Firstly, Bolt buses have free Wifi. How cool is that?? Nextly, it’s rumored that these buses have more leg room. If you are over 5′4″, you know how immensely important this is when traveling.

One of those two features turned out to actually exist. The leg room was totally there. As a matter of fact, there were times during the ride when I felt as though I would fall between seats. As for the WiFi…yeah, no. No WiFi to speak of. I was saddened by this, even though I didn’t have an extremely pressing need for the internet.

Once I realized I wouldn’t be able to browse Facebook on my computer, I tried to read. After about five minutes of this, I grew tired and so, I stopped. As I tried to close my lids, I heard a persistent flow of voices coming from behind me. I peeked between the seats and saw these two women who had been reunited an hour before we boarded le bus. These two hadn’t stopped flapping their gums since they got on the bus. I’m all for catching up and stuff, but at 9:00 in the morning? Really?

While I tried to drown out the high pitched sounds of their excited little voices, another set became quite prominent. This time, two people in front of me AND two people to my right wanted to talk and hoop and holler across the isles. At one point, they even engaged in a game of “Let’s Disturb All the Other People On the Bus By Changing Seats and Let’s be Loud Whilst We Do It.” I was thrilled, as I’m sure you can imagine.

As I faded in and out of sleep, I kept hearing conversations from all over the bus. I don’t get it. We were all up by at least 7:30am. And now we sit in close quarters with others. Why didn’t these people know anything about courtesy? Arg. Go take a nap or something.

As a New Yorker, and lover of the NFL, I am happy to see all the back and forth over Brett Farve come to an end. Get that man to training camp, please. I’m not really sure how I feel about him coming to the Jets though. True they have been the bane of New York’s football existence for a few years now. Chad Pennington sucks like a vacuum (thankfully, he’ll be gone by next week). But I don’t how I’ll feel seeing Brett rocking a different green jersey, even if its for a team that practices in my home town.

Its rumored that he decided to go with the Buccs, but after a 20 minute conversation with the Jets GM, he changed his mind. According to Sal at ESPN, some of the selling points that got Brett to trade the cheese for the apple are:

The Jets are moving their practice from a suburb in NY to some random suburb in north Jersey.

Big friggin deal. Apparently, this is more comfy for him because it will be further from “the city”. Trust me when I say, I’ve seen where the Jets practice. It’s not the hood (though its quite close to one) nor is it the pillar of city life. Brett got duped on this one.

Brett will be the face of the team.

Duh! Who they hell else can the Jets use instead? Clemens? Right. This certainly proves that Brett has a lil narcissistic side. Here’s how the conversation went:

Jets: “Brett, we’ll put you on all the posters, you’ll be on all the bill boards…maybe we can even get you on that big screen under the big cup o’ soup in Times Square.”

Brett (in his cool Southern accent): Really?!?!?!?! You promise? I’ve always wanted my face on that thang in the big city! Hot dawg!

Jets: Yeah. Great. Sign here.

Part 2 of the narcissism: He’ll get to start.

Clearly, one of the main issues that kept Brett from staying in Green Bay was the fact that there was no guarantee that he would start…and after 200+ consecutive regular season starts there, Brett don’t play that. With this trade, he will be able to continue this streak.

He can still enjoy the slow life of the ‘burbs.

Playing for NY doesn’t mean living in the city, silly. Brett is country boy from Mississippi, and has played in GB for 16 years. This was a big deal for him.

So yeah…that’s pretty much it. This is how the Jets bagged Brett. Apparently, the Jets have spent $100 million on reviving their lame ass offense during the off season. Maybe Brett is what they need to get them moving. I can’t wait to see them play the Giants…

In closing, “Now the Jets become relevant, on and off the field, because of Farve,” says the guy from SportsCenter. Mark Schlereth, ESPN analyst says it gives the Jets credibility and legitimizes them…FINALLY someone does.

Let me start off by saying, “Pause.”

The past few months have proven to be among the most fun, emotionally taxing, and financially strenuous times I have faced to this point. I have dealt with a cornucopia of things, probably no more or less than you have faced. In times like these, you learn what you are really made of.

Whenever things get rough people want to say, “Buck up. Turn that frown upside down.” Or the hackneyed saying, “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” While that saying serves as an attempt at a quick fix, I think I’ll pass.

I came to this realization yesterday while I was in the midst of a meltdown. For about 2 hours, I felt like my world was slowly starting to burst at the seams. As I tried to fight back tears on the grimy streets of Philadelphia, I flipped through my mental Rolodex of Bible verses, positive quotes, and advice from my mother and grandmother in an effort to keep it together.

As I walked and reflected, it occurred to me that the lemons of life aren’t necessarily there to be turned into lemonade…at least not immediately. These lemons, also known as the everyday stresses of life, or the not so everyday formidable experiences, are gifts as much as they are burdens and pains in the behind. Here is my logic.

I’ve heard Kirk Franklin and Lupe Fiasco say the same thing: “Struggle is a sign that God loves you.” Though it seems counterintuitive upon first read, it makes sense. The struggle is where the good stuff happens, and life’s best lessons get learned. Its where you learn to call on your God, solidify your faith, flex and build up your inner strengths, and lean on your support networks. Its where you make mistakes to learn from, and build on, that wisdom we all admire in our parents and grandparents. Its where we go through things in order to build up our self confidence, and to serve as a blessing for others in the future.

Before you can get to the good part of life, you have to go through the valleys first. Yeah, they suck. You get all bruised and battered, shed some tears, feel weak, etc etc. But we need them as much as we need the good stuff. When I become a millionaire, I’ll enjoy my wealth a whole hell of a lot more because I experienced brokeness first. If I never experience loss, I may not learn to appreciate what and who I have in my life today, and express that appreciation going forward.

Trying appreciate the bad isn’t easy at all. For me, it is takes a conscious effort to experience the “bad” and not want to discard it from my mind, wish it didn’t happen, or swap it in exchange for a fluffy slogan. Instead, I carp about it, throw a mini hissy fit, and then thank God for it.

So back the lemons. True, they are sour and make you pucker up your lips and make funny faces. But without them, lemonade would just be -ade. Who wants to drink that??

I broke into two parts for ya. You’re welcome.

These are some things people have been saying, and my reactions thereto. You like that word, right? I know.

That series was too negative. Let’s go march.

Seriously? This is what we choose to march about? With all the ills facing the Black community (health disparities, educational inequality, the AIDS and HIV epidemic, poverty, unemployment…need I continue) you want to march because CNN talked about it? The statistics they presented…sorry to be the one to break it to you…were largely true! I have lived the life, bought the t-shirt, and read some of the research that confirms some of those numbers mentioned in the show. They aren’t making it up folks.

They are reinforcing stereotypes about black people. They only showed the negative.

Shows that state reality (not to be confused with reality shows) don’t reinforce stereotypes; people’s action and reactions do that for us. Stations like BET do that for us. Instead of being mad that CNN aired the truth, albeit a portion thereof, be moved to take action. Come up with solutions.

And yes, they showed a good part of the negative. But if you think about it, while it would be nice to show all the good stuff that Black people do in this country (any day now, BET), I think we need to put the good and bad out there…White people need to see images of pain. Let’s face it folks, we need their help in this struggle too. But its starts at home. Black people who have “made it” need to be reminded as well, that there is so much left to be done.

The show wasn’t for black people.

I feel safe in assuming that the majority of the CNN’s audience is White. For this reason, you’re right, it wasn’t for us per se. As I watched, I reminded myself of this. White America and many of my own people I’m sure, live in a world that often ignores, “forgets”, and, excludes the realities of pain that many Americans face each day. Or sometimes, people just don’t know what’s up. I think this show was an attempt to educate.

What about all the positive stuff Black people do? Damn, CNN!!

While I hear the issues people have with the series, we have to remember to put it all in context. CNN’s is a White network that attempted to explore Black issues in ways that our own channels have not, and do not. Their efforts did not stop at the airing of this series. Black scholars, celebrities, and media personalities have appeared on the channel since the initial airing, offering their reactions to the series and talking about the good and bad that can come from it. If you visit their website, you’ll see that they are highlighting the positive stuff Black people do too. I watched videos last week about the first Black woman to reach the North Pole, and the first Black Grandmaster. Pretty dope stuff.

I attribute adverse reactions to the show to a few things. Firstly, we were mad that they put our business on the street like that. That’s pretty self explanatory. Second, many of us were mad because we expected something else. We tuned possibly expecting to see our people being praised and all that. Some of us feel like we got got. Instead, we were met with painful realities that hit home for many of us. For me, watching the show was a little tough. I saw a little of myself and my family in every struggle addressed, and in every family represented. This represented, in my mind, a part the beauty of my people. We are a pained, yet dynamic. We struggle, and still find ways to progress and be fly.

If nothing else, this series was one step in the right direction. Hopefully the step will lead to serious conversations between community, scholarly, economic, and political entities of all types that can generate some real solutions. BET, will you be there? ::insert sarcastic chuckle here::

Sidenote: I am very interested to see what White America has to say about the series. If you come across any articles or links positive or otherwise, please leave them below.

No, that isn’t a typo in the title.

For the past few weeks I, along with much of Black America, had been anticipating the airing of CNN’s series, “Black in America.” I must admit, I had some trepidation about the program because you just never know what to expect when major television networks start talking about Black people. Soledad O’Brien made strong efforts at selling the purpose of the series and overall emphasis behind CNN’s yearlong multimedia examination of Black America.

While watching the first part of the series, which focused on the Black woman and family, I experienced a plethora of emotions. First, I was happy to see a multi-faceted portrayal of the complexities of the Black American family. I also found myself saying, “Its about damn time,” while trying to remain appreciative of the that fact that it was on the air at all. I haven’t seen programming like this on BET in ages, if at all since its take over by (or sell out to) Viacom. Fox Networks damn sure wouldn’t do it. ABC is the only other network I’d imagine to have chutzpah to something like this. I digress.

….I wrote the above paragraphs the day after the first part of the series aired.

Now that I have had time to hear and reflect on the reactions of my colleagues, family, and the Black community at large, I continue to have mixed feelings. Mr. Earl Graves, Sr., founder of Black Enterprise Magazine, was on the Steve Harvey Morning Show this morning offering commentary on the series, noting that it was overly negative and only helped to reinforce negative stereotypes of Black folks. He also was upset by the fact that such a “negative” program is airing at all in 2008, let alone in same year that we have a Black man knocking on the door to the White House and U.S. Presidency. He even mentioned church leaders planning protests and demonstrations and such in reaction to the series.

I have heard and read similar sentiments by other Black folks…

…Please see Take 2 for the rest.

Day 2 was filled with your typical conference stuff: seminars and talks, fighting to stay awake, hotel food, and downtime to mingle and network. After 12 hours of formal stuff, 7:30pm came around and it was time to find dinner. Some fellow attendees and I decided to embark on a journey into the unknown…we braved a 25 minute trolley ride to Manhattan Beach, a place where the BMW, Mercedes, and Audi are as commonplace as the Honda and Toyota. According to the dude behind the desk, this was a good place to find food, shopping, and some semblance of night life that didn’t require an 30+ minute ride on the city bus, or a $40+ cab ride.

A group of about 20 of us (by us I mean well educated racial and ethnic minorities from all over the country) made our way to this place. When we arrived, we were met with rather empty streets, closed shops, and a few restaurants. When we decided on one, we put a name on the list and waited…and waited…and waited. After all this, we respectfully told the guy at the door that we would wait no more, and bounced to another spot around the block–the Shark Cove Restaurant and Sports Bar.

It was here that evening of fun began. Many of us ordered wings. We listened to the live band play covers of Outkast’s “So Fresh and So Clean,” and some Bob Marley greats (”I Shot the Sheriff,” and…I can’t remember the rest. I blame the Blue Moon). We watched intoxicated couples “dance” around. We had conversations with random folks. We ate, drank, and were merry. Phase two of Operation: Have some fun after sitting in seminars all day, continued.

We settled on this spot named “Beaches” (how creative), after asking some friendly people on the street for some suggestions. While walking down this hill that rivals those found in Ithaca, NY, in my typical fashion, I people watched. Many of the dudes were wearing t-shirts decorated with beachy stuff, or the wore no shirts at all. The girls were tanned and blonde. I even saw two “women” wearing next to nothing. Children were out on the street with their parents at 11:30pm. Everyone seemed so relaxed, and cool. The stereotypes of the low key Cali attitude seemed to have some truth to it.

“Beaches” turned out to be what I expected…lame on its own, but poppin when you have a few drinks, and a cool group of people to chill with. I danced with random white guys, one of whom told me he liked the way I moved. The others were from Austria. I learned this as I tried to say something to him, and he just smiled and started speaking in an accent I’d never heard before. He took a great picture of me and his friend. I hope he tags me.

As we danced to Lil Wayne’s “Lollipop” (our group was especially excited that this song was on), all of a sudden, like a flash of lightning, the lights came on. It was only 1am. Needless to say, we were all a lil peeved because our grooves had been interrupted.

The head club guy ushered us to the lower level. So I was like, okay cool, they are just closing upstairs. We got downstairs to keep the party going, only to find that in 15 minutes, our night life outside of the hotel would come to an end.

The cab ride back to hotel was quite fun though. Our cab driver, Sam (not Sam, like Uncle..the “a” is long), was blasting some hip-hop station when were got in, and as we approached red lights, he hit the brakes to the beat of the music. He even threw up the “west side” sign. This guy was great! Shot out to you Sam.

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