September 7, 2008

Adventures in Alphabetical Order

So I’m wearing out this new Ice Cube album — in short, it’s what you’d expect from the man that did “Death Certificate” when he grew up, now that he’s making money with cookie cutter movies and doesn’t have to make cookie cutter records.  It just ended, and that meant going to the next song in the iTunes library, arranged in alphabetical order.

Well, let’s just say it’s a big shock to go from Cube to Ideal’s “Get Gone.”  Perhaps you remember the classic scene in teh video when buddy takes the magazine out of his lady’s head and puts her out.  I believe it was a Jet magazine.

Resurrected Angry Cube into the smoothed out R&B?  Not what I expected.

Though, at the same time, you could kinda say it fits. The anger and all.

September 1, 2008

Phuckuhgustav

I’m exhausted right now.  Being unemployed for a full month is draining, lemme tell ya.  Then, it’s the last BBQ holiday of the year, and I can’t find a grill to mooch from.  It’s like 10,000 spoons when all I need is a knife.

(Notice that’s not ironic, I don’t think.  It’s just a bad break.  That song could have been more accurate if the hook went, “that’s kinda fucked up, don’t you think?”)

That said, this isn’t as exhausted as I was during Katrina.  My daddy’s from Louisiana, just about everybody on that side of the family went to Southern in Baton Rouge, and I grew up on the Gulf Coast.  The initial concern was making sure all my folks got out okay.  They did, thought not all my folks could say the same thing about their people.

The exhaustion reached critical mass for me at seeing what the shameful negligence of the federal government.  Those folks that see Obama getting this nomination and marveling at how far America has come need to get a grip.  Yes, it’s been decades since Bull Connor was sicking the dogs on us and black folks were actually considered by both laymen and scientists to be subhuman.  

But you know what?  Katrina was just 2005.  The shit that really matters, living up to the spirit of the 14th amendment, is still light years behind.  The images of those black people — a staggering proportion of which were dark-skinned, it should be noted — trying to survive in sci-fi conditions brought me to tears.  These were real humans trying to survive in water with fucking nutria rats.  In real life, no CGI.  And while this went on, Wal-Mart got to New Orleans before the federal government.  I’ve never been more embarrassed of those entrusted to provide basic humanity to us all, and I’ve never been more disheartened about where I stood as an American.  

The most treacherous natural disaster in the history of this country hits, and folks are wasting time wagging their fingers at people for not leaving early?  It’s 20,000 leagues under the sea, and you’re concerned that people are boosting at Wal-Mart?  Please.

Now, the government would never do that to me.  I grew up with a decent amount of money.  I live in a neighborhood that, while riiiiiight by the ‘hood, would be taken care of if a natural disaster hit Durham, N.C.

But let me go a little longer without a steady job and see how that would work out.  I’d be on the other side of 147 leaving voicemails at City Hall, not knowing that they got the hell out of Dodge before the gunfight even started.

Yes, Katrina was as much about class as it was race.  But, as Steve Harvey once said, we’re all a couple of bad decisions away from being out on the street.  For that reason, I could easily see myself cooking on one of those roofs in the Lower 9th.  There was no way I could see what happened after the levees broke and not take that personally.  I’m not forgiving anyone any time soon, either.

Thankfully, Gustav dropped down to a Category 2 and didn’t hit the city directly.

Do I think the federal government would handle things as poorly as it did three years ago?  No.

Do I want to find out if I’m right?  Hell no.

The folks in Louisiana are surely breathing the loudest sighs of relief right now.  But I’ve had enough conversations with people that felt as personally attached to the folks in New Orleans as I did to know that there are a lot more people exhaling, too.

August 31, 2008

P-Funk Fans…HELP!

Does anyone out there have a good copy of Parliament’s “Come In Out of the Rain?”  I need that like ASAP.  Hit me up if you’ve got it.

August 26, 2008

A quick lamentation

28 makes 30 seem really really real.  I think that sums up this point in life very clearly.

Thanks, everybody.

August 26, 2008

International Baba Day Radio

As a few of you know, today is the 28th commemoration of International Baba Day.  And while it’s great to make it to another year, I must also admit that it’s humbling.  I mean, if I was as big a star as I pretend to be, 27 would have been it for me.  But it’s not, so I guess I’m not the Jimi Hendrix of….whatever the hell it is that I do now.

Oh yeah, radio.  FYI, I’m hosting 10-1 (ET) show on 620 The Bull here in Raleigh for the rest of the week.  Please tune in if you can.  The combination of me, a microphone and my birthday could be a really strange star alignment.

I suppose annual Int’l Baba day lamentations will come later.  Whoa, am I really almost 30?  When did that happen?

August 25, 2008

International Rule #4080???

Oh boy, as if those Nigerian e-mail scams weren’t bad enough, now we’ve got the strangest quasi-justification ever.

Professor Olu Agbi said “greedy” Australians who tried to partake in these crimes - even though they are scams - should be arrested as well.

“People who send their money are as guilty as those who are asking them to send the money,” he said.

Know what?  He’s actually got a point.  Folks are trying to get in on a hustle.

But uhhh, when the scams are known as the Nigerian scams…it’s probably best to work on the Nigerians first.  Yanno, considering that when corruption indices come out every year, Nigeria lives at the top of the lists like Florida State did in the AP poll during the ’90s.

August 12, 2008

Bernie Mac was a really big deal

So I’m watching Larry King right now, and it’s a tribute to Bernie Mac.  Had this been ten years ago, would you have dreamed that Bernie “The Lord is my shepherd, and he knows what I like” Mac would get the royal treatment from CNN upon his death?  I sure as hell wouldn’t have.

Dudes like Bernie Mac don’t often get famous.  He’s the equivalent of a grimy underground rapper going platinum.  Mac’s standup wasn’t mainstream fare, but he managed to parlay that into the big time.  He reached the point of earning roles that allowed him to be himself without being “the black guy.”  Never mind the expansion of the role of the black father on television, which was certainly huge.  Just consider how much Mac was able to do without compromising his style so very little, if at all.

Not just any style, but that grumpy old black man style, replete with jokes that made you laugh in spite of your undeniable discomfort.

Most people in the business of selling ideas have to be somewhat judicious with their negritude.  You’ve got to pick your spots.  It’s almost impossible to be as black as you are in real life and get a lot of love.  Were that not the case, black folks in real life would get a lot more love.

Bernie figured out how to do it.  To sell yourself without selling out is a dream for most of us.  Congrats to Bernie Mac for pulling it off.

‘Til the other side, my man.

August 10, 2008

Damn

First Bernie Mac.  Now Isaac Hayes.  Jet’s gonna have to put out a double issue.

Til the other side to both.  In honor of Black Moses, I offer the full-length version of “The Look of Love.”

August 3, 2008

R.I.P. Skip

Rarely do I delve into sports here at Virtual Bomaniland.  That’s the game that’s sold, not told.  Do something for a living, and you don’t really want to talk about it that much when you’re off the clock.  This blog, if nothing else, is off the clock.

However, Skip Caray died last night.  For non-sports fans, Skip’s been doing the broadcasts for Atlanta Braves games for the last 30 years or so.  Given my life as a Braves fanatic, Skip’s voice has been a more constant voice in my life than anyone outside of my family.

When we moved from Atlanta to Houston, I remember being blown away when I found out the Braves games came on TV everywhere.  It was comforting news to a six year-old moving to another country (that country would be the Republic of Texas).  It’s not like the Braves were good or anything…but they were my team and, to this day, they are the only sports team that truly has a hold of my heart.

So when I think of Skip, I think of childhood.  I think of going from riding and slowly dying with the worst baseball team in captivity to spending every October watching my team in the playoffs.  I even think of games that he didn’t call, like the series the last weekend in ‘91 when the Braves won the West and that Sid Bream slide in ‘92 that I didn’t see because I couldn’t bear to stay awake as the Braves were sent home.

I guess that means, to me, Skip is Braves baseball.  He laughed to keep from crying when they were getting killed on a nightly basis, and he never got too arrogant when they were the class of the major leagues.

What’s interesting, though — none of the Braves broadcasters from TBS get any love when people talk about the great voices of baseball.  Maybe it’s because they aren’t the best.  Skip’s nasal tone doesn’t do it for a lot of people, and the broadcast teams seemed to fade into the background of most games.

That, to me, is what made those broadcasts so good.  There has never been a less obtrusive set of announcers than Skip, Pete Van Wieren, Don Sutton and Joe Simpson.  They know what they were talking about, but the game always took center stage.  Nothing ever felt forced, and never was there a distraction to stop you from being able to enjoy the game.  Somehow, they’ve never gotten proper credit for that.

One reason I wish that was different was Caray’s battle with alcohol.  Skip’s father, Harry, was an alcoholic…but we remember that fondly.  Harry Caray was blasted by the seventh-inning stretch of nearly all the games he called during my lifetime.  Calling people by wrong names, slurring words, the whole nine.

And we think of that and laugh.

I don’t think Skip sees it the same way.  Skip stared alcoholism in the face and beat it years ago.  No one ever talked about it.  I wonder, if we would, if we would look back so fondly on the drunken Harry Caray.  Clearly, his son doesn’t, which means that maybe we’ve got it all wrong.

Don’t feel as if this post does justice, but I had to do something.  As much as I chastise people that act all weepy over what happens to people they’ve never met, Skip Caray dying took a little out of me.  But over the years, I’m pretty sure I got more than I’m losing right now.

‘Til the other side, Skip.  I’m sure all those grannies that used to send you letters when the Braves were getting blasted 11-3 every night are very, very glad to get the chance to meet you.

July 29, 2008

Stop it, Kwame

This Kwame Kilpatrick is something.  A friend and I just got done discussing how long it will take Law and Order to do an episode based on his ridiculous story, one that must be the only situation that continually defies my concept of what someone is capable of (two-hour season premiere?).  And you must understand — at this point, I’ve read enough to realize nothing is out of the realm of possibility when someone is fighting to preserve an institution.

Especially when a man believes he is an institution in and of himself.

I’d love to link to something about Kilpatrick’s story, but I honestly have no idea where to begin.  I really don’t.  I can say, unequivocally, that Kilpatrick’s a clown.  I’m not going to say he’s seriously more corrupt than other corrupt politicians.  I’ll just say I have never read detailed information about one man’s dalliances and shaken my head as much as I have when seeing what this dude’s been doing.  Seriously, if you’re not up on his story, just put his name in Google News and have a ball.

In fact, here it is for you.  There.  A link.

This is all I’ll say — when a black man lays hands on a cop, you know he’s officially lost his damn mind.  I don’t care if you’re the mayor, Barack Obama or Meteor Man.  Kwame needs to be glad he’s still breathing.  Or, at the very least, able to breathe through his nose.

Now, Kwame’s got a defense for all of this — it’s The White Man’s fault.  It’s The White Man that’s setting him up to look like he’s trying to bankroll his whole crew, one that approaches the size of the entire Diaspora — but doesn’t include me, sadly — like he’s MC Hammer.  Except, in this case, he’s got a bigger budget to work with than Hammer did, and the money isn’t his.

Now, I’m all for blaming The White Man — not to be confused with white people, btw — when He’s at fault.  It’s gotten out of style to point at The Man, but I’m retro like that.

This isn’t that time, though.  Every time I hear that Kilpatrick is trying to blame these pickles he’s gotten in on some racist conspiracy, I have to tell myself that I don’t hear beeping in the background.  That’s because I’m not inclined to think like this…but that beeping sounds a lot like the race going in reverse.

(And no, I don’t really think like that.  It’s really that important to me that you understand that.  I just really like that line.)

There’s enough racism going that there’s no need to ascribe it where it isn’t.  It’s hard enough to get white people to acknowledge whose existence is incontrovertible.  The last thing anyone needs is you selling out legitimate struggle in a futile attempt to save your own sorry ass.  C’mon, dog.  Don’t do it to us like that.

Now, Kwame is just one liar.  He doesn’t represent all black liars, let alone black people.  The only thing he represents is himself, his family, and his payroll.  He means nothing to me.

That said, I’d feel remiss if I didn’t let him know that, since this cockamamie strategy isn’t going to work, he may as well leave the rest of us out of this.  Because, invariably, this is gonna bring the rest of us into it.  I don’t want to be in this.

Now, I do find it a bit interesting that there are so many white critics of Kilpatrick who are mortified by what he’s done to Detroit, seeing how so few white people actually live in Detroit, white people typically do not participate in municipal politics in cities where they are the minority, and how disinterested white folks have been in the city of Detroit for most of the last half-century.  I do see that and chuckle a bit.

I also see Kilpatrick and laugh to keep from crying.

I remember when he was running for Mayor in ‘99.  ’Twas my junior year in college, and some of the folks from Detroit were telling me about him.  Talking about him being a young guy, which was attractive to college students.  Didn’t mean much to me, but he had them excited.

Then it seemed he tried to put himself out there as the “hip hop mayor.”  I’m not sure why that would make anyone want to vote for him, but I think it worked.  He rode around town bumpin’ and on rims and all that fun stuff.  He balled.

Now, that isn’t necessarily hip hop.  Maybe it was Kilpatrick’s distorted view of hip hop.  Either way, he was a little too old to still be doing that.  When I was 19, I figured I’d be blasting bass when I rolled down the street for the rest of my life.  Now?  My amp went out on my 6×9s two years ago, and I haven’t thought about getting it fixed.  A little too old for that shit am I.

What’s really interesting about Kilpatrick is seems like he became mayor to support his idea of the “hip hop” lifestyle.  Sure, most politicians are in the game to support their lifestyles, but Kilpatrick was supporting a different lifestyle than most politicians.  His lifestyle was one of conspicuous consumption, putting on front street how he rolled because showing it off is part of the fun.  Balling out at clubs and shake joints on the city’s payroll?  Huh?

Showing off made it easy to catch this fool.

There’s a reason politicians lay low.  It’s because that keeps them out of trouble.  What Kilpatrick was doing?  Not so much.

Many talk about hip hop politics.  I’ve even written about it before.  But if Kilpatrick’s idea of “hip hop politics” were the model, there wouldn’t be many hip hop politicians.  They’d all be in jail after a week and a half in office.

So Kwame, man…just go away.  You got your people paid.  You balled.  And now, you’re done.

That’s the game.  Now it’s time to respect it.