Why Does It Hurt So Bad?

I refuse to make this blog the damn obituary page...but when I was going to school in East Orange and she was singing with Teddy Pendergrass, I fell in love with her. I never met her or saw her in person, but she was Nippy the local girl who was going good and getting big and had the voice of an angel. She was beautiful.

But that was a long time ago so why....?

Misfits

Nothing political that I want to get into, so a bit of fluff.

For some reason I can't seem to get enough of Misfits. It's a show that has no social morés worth talking about, played by kids that you know if you met in the street you would cross the road and with a script that doesn't make any sense about 70% of the time; but I've seen all the episodes and I love them. Maybe that says more about me than about anything else.

Hmm.....I shall have to think about it.

Don Cornelius

You’ve got to be shitting me, Don Cornelius is dead? The legendary writer, producer and host of Soul Train has been found dead from a self inflicted gunshot wound? Well fuck me! Hmm…

Well I suppose this is where I should speak about all the good things that he brought to American television, black entertainment and world music. This is the part where I droop my shoulders and lift my head to the sky and relive and feel the warmth of childhood memories. I think of the joy of watching his show every Saturday morning, listening to the many artists who would perform. From black to white, from young to not that old, from R&B to pop, you were never disappointed by who was there. They gave their all as they lip-synched to their own hits wearing clothes so tight that sometimes you could tell the religion of the men and which of the women had had boob jobs or were in need of one. I remember watching week after week and finally recognizing many of the individual dancers who would be there and grading each one of women on how they danced or the men on how questionable their masculinity was. I remember being thrilled waiting and watching for the Soul Train Line where the dancers in pairs would wait to perform their 5 to 10 second bit and I would dream about what I would do if I was there. That’s what I should talk about, but I won’t because remember him as being a miserable cunt.

I’m sure I’ve written about this before, I just don’t remember when, but I remember seeing Don Cornelius at the MGM Hotel in Vegas at the Tyson Bruno fight. I was there with a bunch of community kids and a few adults as guests of the boxing promoter Don King. The boys were there happy to see people, celebrities that they had only seen on TV and were collecting autographs and snapping pictures of everyone. I saw a couple of the boys who were about 9 or 12, recognize Cornelius who was sitting down on one of those ottoman things the hotel had looking up sad and old speaking to someone. They ran over to him and excitedly asked to take a picture of him. He looked at them, brushed them aside like yesterday's lint and waved them off.

Bastard!

Evelyn, one of the adults in charge, walked over to them and apologized to the man and took the boys away with her. He didn’t even flinch and my disgust for him grew instantly. I walked away.

Well this hasn't actually been a tribute and someday I’ll have to see someone about those traits in me that make me have these visceral feelings, but until then all I have to say is, and I really do mean it, “…as always in parting, we wish you love, peace and soul!” RIP Don Cornelius.

Martin Luther King Jr. and my March on Washington or lack thereof

Well  yet another year and another reason to go to Washington DC and I still haven’t made it there. In fact I don’t think that I’ve been to that city in about 15 years, so I haven’t seen the Dr Martin Luther King Jr. National Memorial.

I had thought about going to see the memorial when it was going to be officially opened in August of last year, but if I remember correctly, there was a hurricane expected and it was called off. When it was finally opened by the President in October, I thought I would go on Martin Luther King Day this year instead but I’ve missed that too. And yet somehow I still don’t feel bad about not seeing it in person. It’s not that I have any disrespect for the man or the cause or the beliefs and reasons behind the monument, but I’ve seen pictures of the thing and I just can’t seem to get enthused enough to make the trek.

President Obama and the First Family visit memorial

Now don’t get me wrong I’m sure one day I’ll make the trip, but right now I’m feeling too damned old to stand in the cold staring up at a humongous mass of granite while I pretend to look all tranquil and at peace with the world. From what I understand the monument is near or just off of the Tidal Basin and with just one good breeze blowing off the water and wrapping itself around my legs I would probably start cursing. Even if it was only in my mind, it would be some sort resentful diatribe against me, my parents and the good reverend’s family for making it all possible because you know black people don’t like cold and I’m no exception.

Plus from the pictures that I’ve seen the statue itself gives off that Soviet era Stalinist kind of vibe that you get of the arrogance of a “great man” emerging from the stone to defeat the oppressors of the people. Of course he was a great man and he and many others did much to defeat the ways of many who were against Civil Rights for all, but from what I understand this might not have been the way that he would have wanted to himself portrayed.

I only say this because the poet Maya Angelou complained about an inscription on the memorial that is a misquoted paraphrase of what Dr. King said, “I was a drum major for justice, peace and righteousness.” She said, “The quote makes Dr. Martin Luther King look like an arrogant twit. He was anything but that. He was far too profound a man for that four-letter word to apply.” Would then such a man want to be symbolized by a larger than life representation that leans more to the industrial might of his nation’s gratitude or the quiet certitude of his own convictions?

I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find out during my next scheduled trip in the spring when the cherry blossoms are in bloom in DC and the chill has gone from the air. Who’s with me?

Thank You For Your Service...unless..

As I get older I seem to accumulate a hell of a lot of pet peeves that seem to affect or bother no one else other than me. That’s why if there was ever a position that opened up to replace Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes, I’d be a good fit; but that’s a previous post. This post is about is thanking you for your service.

Growing up I don’t believe I had ever heard the phrase, “Thank you for your service,” until maybe a few years ago when some of us started to question why again were we fighting people in Iraq. It seemed to be the catch all phrase given by a grateful nation to the less than half of 1 percent of the country’s population that was actually doing the fighting in the Middle East. It seemed it was the right thing to say when you couldn’t really explain why so many people were coming back without a limb, or a functional mind or even their lives.

Many people say that we fight them over there so that we don’t have to fight them over here. But the point of fact is we don’t fight “them” anywhere. We sit at home or drive our SUV’s to the mall or big box store to get our giant flat screen TVs to watch the “game” or the newest disposable computer to watch our porn over the net and then complain about the price of gas or levels of taxation. We are left then only with the ability to offer disingenuous platitudes of, “Thank you for your service,” to the extreme minority that actually do fight.

Why do I call it disingenuous, because of people like Rick Perry?



Governor Perry says that, regardless of whether it affects military effectiveness or not, if you don’t fit into his version of what armed forces personnel should be like, then you are a detriment to the country and its core beliefs. He equates openly gay soldiers with the lack of prayer in schools. It’s sort of like saying that women’s suffrage movement and their right to vote was responsible for the Great Depression. One really has nothing to do with the other but he doesn’t see it that way nor, I believe, do many other people.

So when Perry says, “Thank you for your service,” does he only mean it when he’s referring to straight people, Christian people, white people? I don’t know. My guess is that he doesn’t mean it to any people and that it’s just something to say without having to get into finding out about the person he’s saying to, or figuring out how he can make things better for that person. He says it and uses it like so many of us say it and use it now as a euphemism for convenience.

And that’s my pet peeve.

The Champ

I have nothing to say.

Except maybe, if you haven't seen the HBO documentary Thrilla in Manilla then maybe you should and then you'll know why.

"Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!" 

                                                  - Howard Cosell

Occupy Philly

Damn, Angela Davis civil-rights activist and icon of the 70's was at the Occupy Philly protests over the weekend and I wasn't.

Now I know this is 2011 and not 1968, which was probably the watershed year or the benchmark for all protests, but still Angela Davis was there and I didn't know. I was busy being domesticated, comfortable and warm. When did I become so old and sedate?



There would have been a time when just mention that anyone was shouting something against someone and I would have been there. I might not have been on the right side, or any side, but I would have been there witnessing people standing up for what they believed were their needs, their wants, their rights. But those days I guess maybe slowly drifting away as I become more and more settled, middle-class and bougie.

Anyway, I was at the protests in Philadelphia about  4 weeks ago when they first started. I was trying to figure out what they were about and why it was that I could no longer find the nerve or the energy to fight "the man" with them. I remember standing behind one of the placards that the protestors would hold up now and again when someone pulled out his camera and motioned me to lift up my arm, maybe Black Panther style, and show my defiance for authority. I just laughed and walked away. I had my own pictures to take. Plus if I was going to get a beat down by the police like they do in other cities, I'd prefer to get it done in New York where the money from the law-suit would be a hell of a lot more.

Police Commissioner Ramsey looks on at the protestors

  

Occupy Philly marches around City Hall

We'll see....

I actually think that this is one of those Arabian Night stories that Scheherazade told her husband but I can't find the actual tale so here is the Charlie Wilson version of it.

Muammar Gaddafi

Wait a minute! Young Muammar was just 27 when he became the head of state for the 3rd largest country in Africa with the largest oil reserves on the continent? Now I know my life has been a waste. But let's move onto what this piece is about…

I hate it when people jump to conclusions especially when all the evidence isn’t in yet. I hate it most when that jumping is done by me because it shows my own levels of fallibility and hidden bigotry, but this is one case where I’m not afraid to state my point of view and let the chips fall where they fall mainly because no one would even care what I say. Not even the FBI or Homeland Security, or whoever is responsible for reading this stuff and finding hidden clues and plots would take much notice of me. They’d just call me a stupid bastard, curse that people like me exist and move on to somebody much more interesting. So I’ll say it here, Gaddafi was murdered.

Yes I know most people will say, “So what?” and, “He deserved it,” and maybe a few other things, but that isn’t really my argument. After all that man did say that he was going to go down like a martyr and not be paraded about like a rat in a cage like Mubarak or strung like up like a dog as Saddam was. He was going to save that last bullet for himself and let Allah and Libya be praised. No, what troubles me is that from the video after the man is captured; he’s taken out back unarmed and fairly stable where he takes one to the temple and all his captors can say is, “whoops…not our fault.” Then they prop him up in a meat locker for all to come and gawk at and take pictures with like good ole boy whites in the South did whenever there was a lynch party for a nigger. And these people are now our friends… my friends?

Okay sure you can say the same thing happened to Mussolini in the ‘40s and things turned out alright for Italy and its relationship with the rest of the world but my fear is that Libya is less like Italy and more like Afghanistan but with oil. The stuff that made Gaddafi a corrupt despot to begin with. So take it from me 10 or 15 years from now… well I don’t know. I guess... we’ll see.

Philly Outfest 2011

I had always heard that once you got a bunch of gays or lesbians in large group there will always be some sort of trouble breaking out, but I had never seen it. I thought that was just one of those urban myths that hear about like the existence of Big Foot, or alligators living on the sewers of New York City, or Herman Cain having a chance in hell of becoming President.

You can imagine my surprise when at the Philly Outfest this year not only did I witness gang loads of police rushing into places that I was unable to follow them into, but I saw fights break out between girls on a day that was supposed to celebrating peace and love for all.

The whole purpose of National Coming Out Day is more than an excuse to shake your money maker in public and show those who are lesbian gay bi-sexual trans-gender people, but that the LGBT community is one that consists of people that you know, that you do business with, that are members of your own family. It's a recognition that they are us and that we are you.

October 11th was chosen for NCOD because that was the date of the second demonstration and march in Washington DC in 1986 for lesbian and gay rights which really is a misnomer because those rights are really no different form the rights that many non-gays and lesbians already have.

Anyway, in Philadelphia this day is celebrated as the Philly Outfest, a block party that is always held on the Sunday closest to the 11th in what is known as the Gayborhood. They say that it's the largest event of this kind in the world and that close to 40,000 people attended this year. But you know what people say and what things really are can be two different things.

Here now are some pictures from last Sunday's events.

Occupy Wall St?