October 18, 2005

Close SUNO?

Click, go and read. Tell me your thoughts. I’ll tell you mine soon.

And I want some honesty. I’m sure some of you agree with this, so don’t be afraid to say it. Nobody here’s bite.

Well, except by request.

And this link comes courtesy of one WMD.

October 18, 2005

The Felton/Edwards Grudge Match

Business…here’s the most recent joint on Page 3, a look at the ten top hustlers in sports. There are some editing errors, but I’m in the process of getting those fixed.

Trip to Charlotte was interesting yesterday. No joke, I watched John Edwards beat Raymond Felton in a game of horse. It wasn’t rigged, nor did Felton let him win. This brings up an interesting point–never play a game with someone on camera when you have nothing to gain.
Continue reading The Felton/Edwards Grudge Match…

October 17, 2005

The plan for this week…

Well, this week is hectic as all get out, but here’s what the site’s gonna be lookin like…

Gave two updates yesterday, so I doubt anything’s coming today. I’ve gotta hit the road to Charlotte to play ping pong with–get ready for this–Raymond Felton, Sean May, and Sen. John Edwards. Dead serious.

From there, it’s to Atlanta for homecoming at that school my nephew goes to (chill out, CAU. It’s for work). From there? Great question.

Here’s my personal recommendation to you all–go cop Bun B’s record tomorrow. It’s heat. Trust me.

And please read the post about the death of Jason Collier. Should be posting a Page 3 joint at some point, too, but I ain’t heard nothin’.

October 16, 2005

Open Letter to Mike Jones

Dear Mike,

I seem to recall you talking about the goodness of the Big 12 North. In fact, let’s go quote you.

“although like i said colorado is looking nice”

Were they really?
Continue reading Open Letter to Mike Jones…

October 16, 2005

Health Care Suggestion

Jason Collier, a center for the Atlanta Hawks, died of a heart attack this weekend. He was 28 years old. ‘Til the other side, Jason.

The description of his death hit me in a bad way.

Howell said Collier and his wife ate dinner at a restaurant Friday night and then returned home, where Collier spent time playing with his daughter.

“He started feeling real bad in the middle of the night,” said Howell, who spoke with Collier’s wife. “It’s just very sad. I’m totally stunned and devastated.”

When my best friend died, the circumstances were somewhat similar. The only difference is that his first round of chest paints–which I was personally a witness to–compelled him to go to the doctor. After that trip, the middle of his night was the same as the middle of Collier’s. The difference–he was in bed alone.

Here’s what I have to impart–if you have chest pains, go to the emergency room. Not to the doctor, and surely not to an HMO. Go to the emergency room. Make them hook you up to a monitor. Make them keep you overnight. But whatever you do, do not leave the hospital until you are absolutely certain that doctors have done whatever they should do to make sure you’re okay. That situation has dwindled my faith in doctors so low to the point that I give the bird to the HMO that dropped the ball on my boy every time I pass the place. Oh, and I haven’t been to a regular doctor since.

I’ll go to the hospital, though, and chest pains will send me there faster than anything else.

Chest pains are just no good. There is nothing in your chest that should ever hurt. There is nothing in your chest that should ever be sore. You might get a stomachache sometimes, but a sudden shock to your belly isn’t going to put you in the ground. Your chest…that’s air and blood. Don’t take long for an affliction to either of those to take you out.

Don’t be tough, folks. Be smart. Get that shit checked out.

Wanna know why I’m saying this? It’s really not because of the pain I felt when my man died. The hardest thing about it all was walking into the wake and seeing the look in his mother’s face, sitting on the front row of the church, looking at her son. His head was swollen, something that made him unrecognizable to us. That glaze in her eye, her apparent inability to see make sense of what the hell had just happened, the reality that the last time she’d see her son’s face would be in that fuckin box.

I hope you never have to see those things in someone’s eyes. I hope no one’s eyes have to be fixed on you like that. And I sure as hell I never have to be any character in that story.

October 14, 2005

Stevie - From 50 to 1

first, if you’re in Durham, there’s a party at Bomaniland tonight. If I forgot to tell you about it, my bad. Hit me up for details. We’ll be screening the MJ documentary here at the estate.

Also, if you’re on the mailing list, you’ll get two notifications from me today. The first will have been for this piece, but the second will come when my Page 3 piece goes up today.

Okay, I’ve learned my lesson. No more lists of 25 when I know a list of 50 is required. I’ll go ahead and do the extra work now rather than going back. It’s less fun reading from 26-50, ain’t it?

Either way, today is all about Stevie!

My favorite Stevie Story…my brother was 9 when Elvis died. He saw the massive outpouring of sympathy and said, “man, if it’s like that for Elvis, what’s it gonna be like when Stevie dies?”

I guarantee you folks won’t be flockin’ to Stevieland.

On to the list…albums are listed if I can remember off the top of the dome.
Continue reading Stevie - From 50 to 1…

October 13, 2005

Robert Davis: Race Not an Issue

Robert Davis, the man that got mollywopped by the New Orleans Police Department, has spoken about his encounter with the fuzz. I mentioned before that the old man adamantly claims that he wasn’t drunk, but he also said that the beatdown he took wasn’t racially motivated.

If he believes that, they must have beaten him worse than we realized.
Continue reading Robert Davis: Race Not an Issue…

October 12, 2005

MAIL CALL!

Oh yeah, it’s my favorite semi-regular occurrence–mail day!

Mail day is usually immediately following an ESPN article, particularly those where race is an issue. Those people that think racism is dead clearly have never read my e-mail.

Well, this batch was fun. Not that large, but the e-mail I got was somewhat evenly divided between folks who agreed, those who didn’t, and those who said they agreed but really didn’t.
Continue reading MAIL CALL!…

October 11, 2005

More on the NOPD

Business…today on the ESPN, I’ve got a piece on why a dress code in the NBA is no good.

So I’ve thought more about this old cat the NOPD roughed up.
Continue reading More on the NOPD…

October 10, 2005

NOPD Roughs Up Old Man

Well, it was only a matter of time before one of these stories popped up.

Be sure to watch the video. Considering the man gettin the bidness is sixty-four years old, this is actually pretty comparable to Rodney King. At least there was some inkling of reason to believe that King was on dust. This is a drunk old man, and they beat him like he stole from the government. And by something, I mean like the Colonel’s secret Original Recipe. Something that crucial.

But the cops are going to get suspended? You’ve got camera, man. The word for the day is fired. Even if New Orleans city officials don’t think this was a firable offense, you gotta cut these cats loose for PR. You can’t have your cops beating up old men on camera and then beating up producers for major news outlets. What’s the excuse on that one?

Cats are stressed–and really, who wouldn’t be?–and that’s understood on a human level. But as I’ve said for years, cops aren’t allowed to be humans when on the job. Is that a lot to ask? Absolutely right. However, it’s a fair trade for the deification they receive for simply being on the force.

(EDIT–that link above has just been added. It’s a piece of mine from the early days at Africana. This piece is actually being used illegally, so I would like to remind you not to do nothin’ like this. However, it ain’t in the online archive no more, so their larceny’s the best I can do.)

But for all the racism that has been undeniable in Katrina’s aftermath, the last thing the city needed was this. Clarence Ray Nagin, you better handle this one properly. Believe dat, slick.

(ANOTHER EDIT–no way in the world that the “we lost control” excuse will work. Somebody had enough control to wait until the horse pulled up to beat the dude. That’s called premeditation.)