December 30, 2005

The End…

Well, 2005 is coming to an end. It’s the end of the bidness blog, but not the end of this one. Still, I feel almost tempted to break out the classic line from the Beatles’ “The End.” You know that one–the love you take is equal to the love you make. Just a great line, especially considering its timing.

Either way, this has been one of the most interesting and significant years of my life. It’s been filled with the most professional success, excitement, and disappointment. That’s a strange grab bag, but things like that happen when you’re in this business and aren’t on a payroll. My two-decade long stint in school has come to an end without the prize I came to get, but that’s proving to be the best thing for all parties involved. 2006 will begin like no other year has–with a clear idea of what I need to get done, with a lot of options to try to get on track, and little to no idea of exactly how to make things work.

But we’ll make things work. Know dat, shawty.

But I close this with thanks to all of you. I started this site a year and a half ago as a way of publicizing my work and establishing myself as a brand. I am my only agent, so I have to do whatever I can to sell my product. And while my product is my work, the only real ingredient is me. So the same way beer companies trump up the qualities of their barley and hops, I decided to use this site to introduce you to me. Sometimes that means riding with introspection. Sometimes that means hearing about mundane things like me decorating the Palatial Bomaniland Estate. Sometimes that means hearing about the issues in the news that interest me or watching me compile long lists of songs.

All those things are part of me, and I kinda dig that some of you can appreciate that. And it’s no coincidence that I’ve done things professionally that I never was sure would happen in the first full year of this page. So, I appreciate you all reading and hope you can continue to find something useful in the random shit I say on here.

But something else happened with this site–I managed to make a serious connection with lots of you. After I put my screen names on the site, a few of you added me to your lists and have become friends. Perhaps I should be more fearful that some of you are fuckin lunatics, but so are the girls at the club I used to try to sleep with. At least I can just block a screen name if I have to.

This site has torn down the barrier that frequently exists between writers and readers, and I really enjoy that. I enjoy communicating with you all, and I hope to continue that. So in exchange for me sharing a bit of me in this site, many of you have shared yourselves with me. That’s helped me through some things and, more than anything, provided some serious entertainment. Hell, some of my friends ask me how some of you are doing. That’s wild when you think about it.

So thank you. On to ‘06. Be safe on Amateur Night New Year’s Eve. If you’re in Durham and like Altoids, get at me.

December 28, 2005

NOPD Kills Man–Force Justified?

Click and go.

Now, a brief roundtable discussion. Hit the comments with some perspective.

1. Can eighteen cops take a knife from a man without killing him?

2. Does wielding a knife merit death?

In spite of my general distaste for police and my belief that a few too many of them like shooting a little too much, those questions aren’t rhetorical. I really am not sure of those answers because I haven’t seen the video of the shooting.

All I know is that I never read about crazy white dudes getting killed by the cops. Maybe it happens so much that it isn’t newsworthy, but I never see it.

December 25, 2005

Merry Christmas…CALL AND SAY IT

Okay, I think I’ve received three of those “Merry Christmas, Y’all” text messages today.

That shit has to cease. Now.

The way I see it, the “Merry Christmas, Y’all” text message is just a form letter. It saves you the time of telling people somehting good. Guess there’s something to that, but it also removes all the warmth and cheer that comes from a good Merry Christmas call.

That sucks.

On Christmas, I wanna hear from my folk. I want to hear voices. I want to hear children in the background. I wanna feel the love.

And love cannot be shared with predictive text.

So call me if you want. But please, don’t shoot a text. The same applies for Thanksgiving and my birthday. New Year’s, which I consider to be a useless holiday, is fair text message game.

But no love for and from the form letters.

Merry Christmas to ya. If I have your number, I’ll give you a call. If you just wanna hear my voice, shoot me your number and I’ll be sure to call you.

December 22, 2005

Someone Ain’t Familiar…

Luther D. here. Baba gave me my own log-in and everything, but it always makes it appear at the bottom saying “authored by Bomani.”

Not today, baby. Authored by L.R.D.

You heard this one? If you’re at work, throw on the headphones. If you’re at home, just enjoy it.

Now, lemme break some game down to you on how this went.
Continue reading Someone Ain’t Familiar……

December 21, 2005

Before you get the chance…

Business…here’s a piece on college basketball coaches and how they just ain’t no fun no more. Enjoy.

As for the pro-Doherty crowds that will invariably wind up here, know this–the notion that Doherty’s firing at Carolina was an indication that the inmates ran that asylum are ridiculous. I talked to enough people to realize that Doherty’s demeanor nearly killed in three years what Dean Smith built over the course of about forty. His treatment of players was unforgivable. Send all the angry mail and comments you want, but I won’t read it too closely.

That is all.

December 21, 2005

Niggaz that Don’t Like People that Say Nigga

A few people, including Virtual Bomaniland favorite Big Walt, have asked where my issues with Darrick Z. Jackson–please say the Z.–and his piece on nigga in hip hop.

My big problem with that piece is that he took Richard Pryor’s views and placed them on everyone that uses the term. So Pryor claimed that he said nigga like it was going out of style because it empowered him in some bizarre way.

So what’s that got to do with me?

Jackson can have his take on the use of the word, and he has the right to not want to be called “nigga” by anyone. If he were to ask me not to use the term around him, I would not. However, there’s a certain arrogance that fuels the ascription of one man’s views to a giant group of people.

However, I was erroneous in saying that I don’t agree with him. I really don’t, but that wasn’t my issue with his piece. I have serious problems with his perspective and his rhetorical techniques. His perspective is one of an older gentleman that looks down on the younger generation while ignoring any role that his generation had in molding the youth. I have no idea how old he is–I’d say he’s under 40 based on the spelling of his first name, but I really don’t konw–but he acts as though people my age and younger just magically turned out this way. Further, he offers no solution for changing what he deems to be a huge problem. For Jackson and his ilk–which includes the absolutely insufferable Stanley Crouch–to be useful in their critiques, they must offer some theory on how society became what it currently is. Otherwise, there is no way to construct means to reach the standard of behavior he seems to feel would be proper. The sniping he does from his keyboard is, at best, masturbatory.

And as a general rule, I avoid being around another man’s skeet. Just not my idea of a party.

As for his rhetoric, it’s designed to fool those with substandard critical thinking skills. From the looks of things, Jackson went Googling for the least intelligent quotes on using “nigga” from people whose names would be readily identifiable to readers. I’m curious why a columnist from Boston didn’t find a quote from Randall Kennedy’s book “Nigger–The Strange History of a Troublesome Word.” Or whatever the subtitle of that book was. I don’t agree with what I’ve seen from Kennedy’s book–which I have not read, but izrael has and wrote my favorite of his pieces on–but someting tells me that he offered some logic that Jackson couldn’t dispute.

Basically, when you can only find stupid things other people have said to add to your point, you don’t win anything from me. Perhaps he should have called Phonte Coleman about this issue. I know Phonte a little bit, and I’ve heard him say he doesn’t have any issue with the word “nigga” and doesn’t really care who uses it (nor is he discriminatory about whom he refers to as niggaz). I don’t know if Phonte has done an interview on that, but I know he’d have something smarter to say on the issue than 50 Cent or Russell Simmons.

So why no mentions of anyone like that? Why just go for points that even people like me–who use the term liberally and unapologetically–think are moronic?

That’s not presenting a counterargument. That’s the analogue to snowbirding or cherry picking, waiting by your own goal and waiting for an easy basket rather than running down the floor and playing defense. It’s too easy. I’d like to think that Jackson would like to offer something more challenging than that.

But here’s the best part.

Nothing about the N-word or B-word has helped black people to rise above achievement gaps in schools or helped black males to be respectful to women and responsible to babies they father out of wedlock.

Right. And neither has whacking one’s mack all over a newspaper page. Pot, meet kettle. Kettle, that’s pot.

Both y’all niggaz is black.

Moving on, I think I’ll do this week’s list tomorrow. What’s it gonna be on? I really couldn’t tell you. Been on a serious Sly kick lately, but I don’t know the depths of his catalog like that (I primiarily stick to Stand!, There’s a Riot Goin’ On, and Fresh). Or might be the Police, who I’ve gotten deeper into since I got their entire catalog when I was at my brother’s house.

Leaning toward Public Enemy. Check back tomorrow for more.

December 20, 2005

They’re Baaaack…

These, ladies and gentlemen, are the Dutch Masters. Dutch Masters, introduce yourselves on the comments, please.

And this is the score from their last game. In a gym full or drunken teenagers, the Dutch beat the brakes off a team that calls itself Studly. Yeah, Studly is as terrible as it sounds. Couldn’t beat a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.

That’s right, the Dutch is back.
Continue reading They’re Baaaack……

December 18, 2005

The War of Guessing

Here’s a rare weekend post. Since most of you read at work, it’s usually fairly pointless to put something up on the weekend. However, more about Bush’s eavesdropping plan has come out, and this has to be said.

If Bush and the boys find guessing to be essential to the “war on terror,” they’re so messed up in the game.
Continue reading The War of Guessing…

December 16, 2005

Top 25–Otis Redding

First, lemme start by saying that I hope Bush and the Boys like Otis as much as I do.

Moving on, I went with Otis Redding this week because I’ve been on a serious Otis kick lately. A member of that dreaded 27 club, Otis was rivaled in the sixties by only Sam Cooke as far as soul singers went. The interesting thing about Otis is that his best album, Otis Blue, is a collection of Cooke covers, a few of which are better than Sam’s versions.

Those work because Otis was the anti-Sam, really. Where Sam was smooth, silky and totally composed, Otis extracted every ounce of passion in his soul to put out his tracks. There’s no telling if he had any idea what to do with a pitch pipe, but he could sing his ass off. Gives the Otis Blue tracks a unique quality rarely found on covers. Not quite how Isaac Hayes could totally redefine a song, but of the same ilk.

So here we go. You know the drill–tell me where I messed up.
Continue reading Top 25–Otis Redding…

December 15, 2005

King Kong

Hey man, been busy most of the day going to Target, making cookies, and rearranging furniture. No, I don’t need a real job.

And no, no car yet. Just tolerant friends.

Anyway, a friend asked me if she was the only person that saw the implicit racism in King Kong. I found it unavoidable. Cmon, a monkey?

But it’s deeper than that. Check this one from Newsday provided by my man Q.