the hunted

I write this under the auspice of celebrating my one year anniversary of being in business. I have read and been told that any where from 70 to 85 percent of start up businesses fail before the first year. All of the other business owners have been congratulating me as if I have made it. But I have not and do not feel as if I have. The reality is that I am merely a single man, a single business and realize that via introspection, much more work for my betterment and all connected with me needs to be done.

And although I am foul in character, and in nature, my disposition dictates that there is more to me than patting myself on the back can accommodate; that requires being appreciative of what I do have as opposed to what I do not.

I don’t know if I should be mad or sad, but truth is it is disheartening to acknowledge today what are accepted as the standard characteristics of the male species. I just don’t get it, where it comes from or how we as men, and even worse – women, promote sucg dumb azz behavior. How is it that we as men can see it fit to spend or even plan to spend more time in the gym, or working out than in the library, as if it is our external that defines us more than what makes us men – integrity, intellect and character. Sad thing is that we will be the main ones that vilify women for caring more about the external cosmetic virtues of existence – e.g. appearance, yet we do the same thing. Are we that shallow or caught up that we cannot mark priorities of wisdom as such over vanity?

We all talk about how we despise playing games, or that game recognizes game, but it really don’t matter in the big picture if we throw out collective and personal responsibility. For we will say such and talk such when in fact we will spend more time with a play station, or X-box than we do trying to improve and enhance ourselves spiritually and intellectually.

We know more about our favorite teams, and mundane television shows, movies and entertainers than we know of our own family, history or even worse, our own children or their teachers. Yet we will complain vehemently and loudly without lifting a finger to participate to attempt a change. Yes we men, are merely bench warmers in our future for active participation requires making choices but we would rather follow, and be like the next man (often fakers they selves as a consequence of fame and idolatry) than think and engender greatness for ourselves, for if other do not know of such, it is worthless; for to us fame is the only thing of value.

So if real recognize real, then let’s be really real, we are the hunted but many of us do not realize this. We accept what we preach among each other, especially other black men under the mantra of keeping it real, when in reality we keeping it real fake, for only an idiot would postulate such when life in itself is a reality. What is really real is that we would spend more thought and consideration to deciding to get our car wash, more time indeed than we would spend on reading to a child, whether it is our own child or not. Now that is really real, and I can talk this shit folk. Jones here don’t need no accolades or pat on the back for I get it each time my cash register rings and when my kids call me poppa and take the time to talk to me and place their lips on mine. I get it each time I see a former inmate I know keep the job I assisted in helping them find – for they got it on their own, or when I assist a man in a diabetic coma out of his car and give him CPR (as I did last Friday in front of my shop). Yea that’s what keeping it real is all about. Not the promulgation of negative attitudes and stereotypes that foster disingenuous effrontery in the form of being hard for the fact is that only thing men can have hard is they dick. So that’s what’s up, like I said, we the hunted and half us don’t even know we the prey and falling for the bait hook, line and sinker like a red fish in a bayou in Louisiana. And folk wonder why I call folk fck boys and BAN’s (bich azz n I double g a’s). So dress up your cars, buy them fancy clothes, and all the air force ones you can, for I like a nice tailored Valentino suit too, but it aint jack with out my brain cells. For brain cell against brain cell, I’ll smash am jones any day and if I was weak, emotional or insecure – I would cut some heads too, but that’s a last resort.

Addendum: good look to Mahogny Speaking for giving me this award.