November 28, 2006

The N-word…again

Business…here’s a piece on LaDainian Tomlinson, the passer.

So I’ve seen that a lot of people are using Michael Richards’ kirk-out on stage as a time to relaunch discussion on black people using that n-word.  I only write “n-word” because I don’t want to deal with semantic arguments over the different connotations of the word based on differences in pronunciation that wouldn’t be indistinguishable if someone were speaking with a retainer in his or her mouth.  But you know exactly what I’m talking about.

As many of you know, I say that n-word a lot.  I’m unapologetic about it, and I’ve blogged about it quite a bit.  I must admit, though, that I’ve spent a lot of time lately with a non-curser, and it has kinda made me rethink some of my language.

Oh yeah, I cuss a lot, too.  To the point where when my mother e-mails my blog posts to her friends, she offers a caveat about the foul language that’s going to be in the post.  Note–it’s no fun when you embarrass your mother, no matter the level of the embarrassment.

I find that I use that n-word a lot because it fills certain sentences perfectly.  When I use it, it’s because I think it’s the perfect word to convey what I’m thinking and feeling at a given point in time.  More accurately, it registers the effect from the listener I’m looking for.

And that’s the part that makes me think.  No matter what anyone says, there is no positive connotation to the word.  None.  At best, someone using it intends it to be viewed innocuously, but there’s no way at all to make it a nice thing to say.  Anyone that says that is lying, simple as that.

So is it time for me to chill out on that?  It’s entirely possible.  i don’t mean anything by it, but I do have to acknowledge that it offends a lot of people.  And I do believe that people have the right to be called what they want and not called what they don’t want.  That’s also pretty simple.

So how do I continually rationalize saying the word a few dozen times a day?  Right now, I’m really not sure.

I’m sure of one thing, though–hearing Michael Richards say it didn’t make me rethink a thing.  There’s nothing similar to what he was saying and what I’d say when using that n-word.  The problem with him wasn’t the slur.  It was the intent behind it, which involved a strange and, perhaps, Freudian references to sticking forks in anuses.  That was just too much, and it’s mostly unrelated to what I’m thinking about.

I’m thinking about whether the benefits of driving home a sentence are enough to offset how inherently problematic the word really is.  Perhaps the people using it aren’t really causing a problem, nor do they intend to, but we can’t do nothin’ but trace this to something not cool.

Anyway, that’s a consideration.  But get ready for the sad part…

Perhaps the toughest way that would hurt me would be the effort expended finding a replacement in the vocabulary.  I can’t think of a word that would fill the same role.

That there is a problem.  Maybe my decision’s been made for me.

We’ll see how it goes.

No promises yet.  Just thinking out loud.

November 23, 2006

Question for the New Yorkers

Goodness, how do you sleep with all these sirens?  I’m staying in what appears to be a pretty fancy schmancy neighborhood, but it sounds like Sandman Sam’s outside going door to door.

November 21, 2006

Trippin at the Airport

Wonder how this would have gone if it wasn’t just Muslims, but from the Nation of Islam.

November 21, 2006

New York…

…skyscrapers and everything.

For some reason, I feel compelled to say that every time I come here. But today it was really timely for me.

Something about this place makes me feel like I’m from Mars and visiting South Central. Just always outta water. Why? Because I’m Southern, and so much of this place just seems strange for me. For example, I walked a second ago from my brother’s place to get a slice. Got to the place and, luckily, I got a phone call that I had to step out and take.

Why the luck? Cuz I couldn’t figure out where the damn line started.

In the South, there’s lots of space at eating establishments. Even Johnny’s Catfish or Willie T.’s Ribs has got enough room for an orderly single-file line.

Man, I walked up into this lil’ eatery and had no idea what to do. I saw a cash register, but I saw no semblence of order otherwise. I sincerely couldn’t figure out how to order pizza. And before you get to askin questions, everything on my bio is true. No O’Leary.

(Goodness, I finally capitulated to the “no (insert word here)” craze.)

What else has happened since I got here? Well, I had to catch a cab from the airport to the apartment. Got in with a lovely gentleman who asked if I was going to Manhattan. I said yes and gave him the address. He then asked again if I was going to Manhattan, which prompted me to call my brother’s girlfriend to make sure I was going to Manhattan. She confirmed it.

So we get to riding and he asked me, “is it off the drive?”

Okay, it’s been established I’m in from out of town. In fact, I let this dude know I was in from out of town, even though I swore years ago to never let that known. After saying “I ain’t from ’round here,” your next line will probably be, “I got some more money in my jacket.”

But it was readily apparent that i wasn’t from here. So why is he hittin’ me with highway slang? Not even the hip hop slang I’m familiar with, but some damn highway lingo.

C’mon pimp. I’ll never understand how New York is full of various interlopers, but we always have to deal with people talking to us like we’re from here…even though these cats go out of their ways to pick on us for not being from New York.

But that ain’t all from the cabbie. So I told this dude the EXACT ADDRESS I was going to. He then asked for cross streets, which I had my brother’s ladyfriend pass on to him. Then I hear him say, “you’re just telling me a number. I need more than that.”

You need more than the damn address? Really? Would you like the coordinates?

Ugh.

Here’s the thing with me and New York. I’ve made a few trips to this bad boy, and none has been terribly unpleasant. My last two times up here were actually wonderful (though one was on the expense account of my patron for the weekend). The interesting part is that the last two times I came here were for work. When you’re here for work, the perpetual state of anxiety kinda fits. It doesn’t bother you because you’re part of the chaos. They’re rushing to get to the train and so are you. It’s not such a big thing.

I ain’t got nothin’ to do up here but kick it, catch up with KG and stay outta trouble. That’s it.

So these folks looking all stressed and all that is just messing up the little vibe I try to carry myself with. It’s just not kosher.

And it ain’t warm.

But I know I’ll probably be living here within 18-24 months. I better get used to it.

Now, to hit the streets to find my girlfriend one of those “I HEART NY” shirts. She likes it like that up here.

Well, she ain’t gotta worry about me tryin’ to borrow that shirt.

Which isn’t to say she ever has to worry about me borrowin her threads.  I’m just sayin…

Have a nice day.

November 20, 2006

More on the PS3

Business…here are the pros and cons of a Michigan/Ohio State rematch.

So I’m going to New York tomorrow to hang with my big brother for the holiday, which anyone that knows me can tell you is a big deal in my universe.  I find that even though I’m closer to 30 than 20, I’m still just your typical little brother.  Never growin’ out of it, and I’m okay with that.

But that meant I needed to get a haircut.  And I haven’t really been satisfied with the barbers I’ve gone to here, so I went to a spot near my house.

Write this down–the first time in a new barbershop is always an experience, especially if you go on a Saturday.  That way, you’re guaranteed to get a crowd, and usually a regular set of folks.  You know, the old heads that come in every other Saturday and the single moms that only have that window of time to make sure their sons don’t embarrass them with heads full of cockleburrs (sp?  y’all know what I’m talkin ’bout).

So I get there, and the first thing I noticed was that three people were waiting, one dude was cuttin’, and four barbers were eating.  FOUR.  Couldn’t these cats go in shifts?  I’d think so, but I don’t know enough about the organizational theory of barber shops to say so definitely.

No worries.  I had plenty of time before the OSU/Michigan game.

Well, some lil fella came in with his mother while we were discussing the PS3 and, specifically, all the robberies.  Now, I’ve got a whole range of reaons why it doesn’t make sense for most people to get the PS3 right now, but I kept most of those to myself.  Barbershop talk about some of those robberies wasn’t gonna get interrupted by me.

(BTW, if you saw Friday’s post on Friday, check the link again.  More robbery information was added.)

So one barber asked a 9-year old kid if he would give up his PlayStation if someone put a tool to his head.  He said no.

What followed was a piece of wisdom that was as sage as it was funny.

“I don’t know what kind of TV it is that you watch, but you need to turn to the news, D.”

I fell out laughing.  Cuz goodness, that’s the head on truth.  I know that kids tend to talk more shit than they can back up because, quite honestly, they don’t know any better.  However, that’s straight up bonkers.

Children need to learn a rule that my uncle told me brother when he was young–if a man threatens to shot you, believe him and do whatever it takes to make him no longer want to shoot you.

That’s real, man.  Shit, I’ll go steal someone else’s PS3 and bring it to you if you put a pistol to my pumpkin.  No turnin’ my pound cake into red velvet.  Nossirreebob.

Make sure your kids see it like I do.  For real.

November 17, 2006

Who Didn’t See This One Coming?

Something like this gave me serious pause about camping out for a PS3.

If I had one of them PS3s and someone put the tool to my top, I’m goin’ the Cee-Lo route.

“You can have it, goddamit, if you want it that bad.”

November 16, 2006

Might As Well Tell Ya…

…well, this bit of information made it to TheBigLead today, so I may as well let it be known.

For the next year, don’t look for my work on sports anywhere but ESPN.com. Effective November 10th, I’m officially a contracted writer for ESPN.com. That’s not gigantic news, really, for signing me isn’t so much like that Matsuzaka guy I’ve been reading about. But, that’s what it is.

Okay, the “not gigantic news” part is kinda sorta bullshit. The earth will continue to spin, but it’s pretty cool from my end. Coming from a self-published “column” on a now-defunct site six years ago to where I am now is a helluva piece of upward mobility, the way I see it.

I started doing this because I needed something to keep me alive while going through the misery of grieving. Now, I can finally do this and earn a real living. And I can do this on an outlet I’ve read for years, one that’s been the homepage on my web browser since my freshman year of college. For me, this is like when those New York boys get to play for the Knicks. It’s what I’ve grown up reading, and now it’s where I write.

That’s kinda cool to me.
As is the first year of guaranteed steady paychecks of my life. Hooray adulthood!

Anyway, that’s that. I’ll still be doing music news for VIBE.com, and I still can do non-sports work for anyone.

Oh, and I’ll still be blogging. A lot more after the semester at Elon is over. With the paying gigs taking up my time, I haven’t been on here like I’d prefer to be. But I’ll be around more in about a month.

Promise.

November 14, 2006

Remembering Gerald Levert

Business…here’s a piece that ran yesterday on why the world might owe Mario Williams an apology.

Gerald Levert died on Friday.  I can’t say it was shocking, but it was definitely saddening.  40’s too young for dying, even though I’ve seen enough to know that no one’s too young to die.  Thin line there, but I think you know what I mean.  Here’s wishing the best to his family in this time of need.

I didn’t know Gerald, so I can say but so much about him personally.  I do know his music, his style of music and how that ties into history.  And I think it’s entirely possible that an era of black music may have ended with his passing.

Though he was raised in Cleveland, Levert may have been the last of the gritty, shoutin’ male Southern soul singers in the mainstream.  I’m not connecting him with every Southern singer.  Anthony Hamilton’s my favorite singer in the game right now, but I associate him with the Al Green model of Southern soul.  I associate Levert with the Otis Redding/Wilson Pickett lineage–where the message was driven home with raw power and emotion.  No finesse, Jack.

Part of the reason so many people connected to Levert’s songs is that he drove them home with something we all can understand.  Sometimes, there’s no explanation or justification for what you’ve done.  There’s no really smooth way to get your point across.  Sometimes, all you can do is look people in the eye and hope they feel and understand just how much you love them and pray that, in this case, that’s enough.  You can only hope with everything in you that how much you love them is enough to make them ignore just what a triflin’ muthafucka you really are, what a triflin’ thing you did, or anything else.

And sometimes, that’s all you need to hear from someone to make it all better.

I honestly can’t think of anyone to come out anytime recently that sold his music like that.  K-Ci Hailey had the potential to become legendary by doing that, but it ai’nt so much lookin’ like he’s gonna pick that mantle up.  I may be wrong, but I just ain’t seeing it.

The person who vocally reminds me the most of Levert is Lyfe Jennings, but he just ain’t powerful enough for me to see him as being in this lineage.

(BTW, I’m sure someone’s going to talk about some of Lyfe’s subject matter–spinnin’ 20s in particular–and say that means he can’t be seen the way a guy like Levert was seen.  I would like to remind those people that Levert a song that included the line, “why’d you have to take my Benz?  Both of them?” and in the video, women shook car keys at that part.)

But there is one lady left that’s still doin’ this style to death–Mary J. Blige.

November 12, 2006

R.I.P. Ed Bradley

I’m late to comment on Ed Bradley’s passing.  I’ve been crazy busy the last few days and, quite honestly, I didn’t have anything particularly special to contribute to the conversation.  There’s something disrespectful about commenting on someone’s passing simply out of a sense of obligation.  We all tend to do it, but I have no desire to talk without saying nothin’ at a time like this.

But while I’m sitting here watching the tribute to Bradley on “60 Minutes,” it’s become clear what I find to be the most interesting thing about Ed Bradley, something that’s becoming hard to find–Ed Bradley was a black man whose television persona was relaxed, natural and not stuck to one of the prevalent molds of black men on television.

Part of what made him worth watching on “60 Minutes” was that he was so damn smooth and cool.  It never seemed like he was working.  Everything just seemed like a breeze, whether he was interviewing a subject or providing the results of an investigation.  Jarrett and I were discussing how Ed was one of the few journalists that could ask the tough questions without the interview becoming contentious.  And we all know that “60 Minutes” wouldn’t be “60 Minutes” without the anchors gettin in somebody’s shit.  But Ed could get into a subject and get everything he needed without seeming to thump his chest on the inside about how he was asking such tough questions.  He was thoughtful and logical, but there was huge intangible that made him so effective.

That only worked because that was who he was.  There was no attempt to make himself more of a television personality.  He was simply translating his personality to television, and it wasn’t one of the personalities it seems black men have to have to get on TV.  He wasn’t stoic, nor was humor his hook.  He wasn’t trying to entertain.  He was trying to inform, and he did so well.  It just happened that he shared the information in an interesting fashion.

That’s big to me.  Society has repeatedly demonstrated an acceptance for a small subset of black people in the public eye.  For that reason, many black people try to fit the image that they feel viewers will be comfortable with.  Or, networks will find people that happen to fit that ideal and then roll from there.

That’s no knock on those that happen to fit an acceptable caricature.  They are who they are, and I don’t really knock them for getting paid to do that.  The thing I love about my job, above all else, is that I get paid to be me, and I’m damn fortunate that people think I’m worth seeing, reading and listening to.  It’s kinda like a great philospher said once–get it how you live.

I just sincerely hope that television have room for black people that live like Ed Bradley to get theirs.  As the range of images of blacks in the media gets smaller and smaller, the need for someone like Ed Bradley becomes greater and greater.

Especially now that Ed Bradley, one of an ilk populated by very few, is gone.

November 10, 2006

The Boxing Banker

Business…here’s a profile of Calvin Brock, who’s fighting Wladimir Klitschko for the heavyweight title tomorrow night.

Funny story about that interview.  Calvin and I got to talking, and I mentioned that I lived in Durham.  He said he lived here, too, and he mentioned what part of town he lived in.  After a few more back and forth questions about where each lived in Durham, it became clear that he lived in the same neighborhood as me.

So I flew a few hundred miles to interview my neighbor.  Yup.  It was a blast to talk with him, though.
Here’s another update on the adorable little girl in the last point.  I got this e-mail from her mother.

My mother was reading bo’s blog aloud to faith. her response:
“dag, bo’s just telling all my business.”
classic faith

It’s a good thing I already have a wonderful relationship.  Cuz this next generation has got wayyyyy too much game for me.

Back later with more.