Rarely Seen Film "King: A Filmed Record" Traces MLK’s Struggle From Montgomery to Memphis

I Remember a King - do You?

The African American community has changed significantly since the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and not for the better.

Segregation has ended, and we can live in predominantly white communities if we choose to and our children can attend integrated schools, but systemically our situation is worse.

There are more single head of household families now than in King's era, and education, which used to be observed as a revolutionary act, is no longer sacred or seen as essential or momentous. Our self-centered worlds are what we are concerned about, and consequently, we perceived them as being of more value than community. We talk about community responsibility as having axiological pre-eminence, but do not walk the walk.

Currently, what we own, who we know, where we live and other aspects of materialism are more paramount than what we know or how we treat others. We even roll up and compact into our little shells as turtles do when others we know as our intellectual superiors inform or take us to task on how we live our lives or our behavior. Lewdness and shallowness are exalted while education and illumination are frowned upon.

Yes, times have changed. Celebrity and fame are held in high regard and young people tend to be rappers, actors and athletes when once they were Martin Luther King Jr., H. Rap Brown, Malcolm X or the Black Panthers. Now, fewer African American men are completing high school than during the time of MLK or segregation. There were even more black-owned businesses then than there are now.

But who am I to speak? I remember the day MLK was murdered in my hometown of Memphis, Tenn., and the night before meeting him as a child at my friend’s father’s church. I also recall seeing National Guard jeeps on my street in front of my home and being told I couldn’t play outside. I remember my mom calling home saying Dr, King was dead and that he had been driven to her hospital in a Colonial Bread truck to protect his body from angry white folks. I remember; the problem is that most who will read this do not. This is the problem and why we do more harm in our selfish ways than good, and will continue to do so.

Mr. President: Recession hitting us folk hard

The recession is crushing African American communities in major urban centers like Detroit and Memphis. Since the collapse of the auto industry and housing market, Detroit’s population has dropped to under a million from 1.8 million.

Today it is possible to buy a three-bedroom home in Detroit for around $10,000, however there are no buyers. Given this predicament, Mayor Dave Bing, a former NBA star, has suggested reducing the size of the metropolitan area in hopes of reducing the city’s expenses.

Bing’s proposal would require the city to demolish nearly 40,000 homes over the next several years. Poverty rates in Detroit are far above the national average. Some have asserted that such draconian approaches border on being a form of "ethnic cleansing." The fact is that almost a third of the city's 139 square miles is uninhabited.

Foreclosure procedures have been initiated against 1.7 million of the nation’s households, with the average borrower in foreclosure being delinquent for more than 400 days before actually being evicted. More than 650,000 households had not made a mortgage payment in 18 months.

In cities such as Memphis, the recession is having a similar effect due to rising unemployment and growing foreclosures. The median income of black homeowners in Memphis has dropped to pre-1990 levels. The unemployment rates for African Americans in the city is approaching 20 percent when it was below 10 percent just two years ago.

The recession is creating an ever-widening economic gap between whites and African Americans across the nation. Several studies have documented this disheartening trend.

The Economic Policy Institute notes that as of December 2009, median white and African American wealth fell 34 percent and 77 percent, respectively. A study conducted by the Institute on Assets and Social Policy at Brandeis University concluded that for each dollar of wealth owned by a white family, a black family owns just 16 cents, based on Federal Reserve numbers.

The recession is real and it may take several years before any progress or improvement is noticed or felt at the community level. So for the time being, African American families will have to deal with rising unemployment and foreclosure rates and manage to survive the best way they can.

from Tobe to Joe Sixpack

One of the events in my life that I have never forgotten occurred when I was in Junior High School. It was when the television mini-series ROOTS came out. I will never forget that music or the father holding his child up to the universe. The show was hard to take and I must admit, it brought out sentiments that I did not even have as a child during the civil rights movement, with the exception of seeing the Nation Guard on my street telling me I couldn’t play outside the day Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered in my home town of Memphis.

It was cool after the Monday show, but after the Tuesday episode things hit the fan. It was as if everybody in the world was looking at roots. And seeing that folks from around my way were selectively bused to a predominantly white school, the environment during that week was completely different. Prior to this, we all just had a ball, no problems never. But after that Tuesday segment, like I said it was on. See, that was the episode when Kunta Kinta was made, via whip to call himself Tobe.

There was a tension in the air that day. That is all we talked about on the bus. And it didn’t take long that morning before the advents of the prior evening manifested itself in real life form. And it was all started when one white kid called my folk Tobe. There may have been 40 to 50 fights that morning before home room until after first period, causing the principal to cancel school and send us black kids back home. Rocks were thrown at our buses and we would get off and resume the head cutting we had been engaged in all of that morning. It was like we were doing what we felt our ancestors should have done.

Just thinking about this has me on edge, in particular as it relates to the present political environment as proffered by Mr. McCain and Mrs. Palin. When I hear “Joe Sixpack”, I can’t help but think this is a code phrase for not me, or the average American, but rather those that harbor the hatred of the past and the racist beliefs that yielded Jim Crow, and even slavery. For me, the average American is more like Bill Jones. For we all have Bills, and see them going up each day: Light Bill, Auto bill, tuition Bill and Gas Bill. Not no Joe Sixpack. I see a man, somewhere in the woods, with a rebel flag on his truck, with a rifle and one that may pride himself on living in a neighborhood with no black folks, Latino folk, or Asian folk; even taking pride that there may be no kids as such attending the school that his child does. I also see a man that would wear a shirt that says “Nigger Please, it’s called the Whitehouse. True, I love me some brew, and pride myself on my Gat and rifle game, but I too am an Average America, but don’t see myself as no sixpack Joe.

I guess this is the true state of American affairs with respect to out political climate. I know and believe that most Americans are true civil-minded patriots and frown on hate regardless. I just do hope that folks like us, regardless of race and gender or any other contrived difference fall on our commonality as being human beings, and stand against this, for I don’t ever wanna be called Tobe again and if someone like Joe Sixpack does, he best be prepared to take a loss, for real though. I mean its like from Tobe to Joe Sixpack and back again.

Addendum: Thanks Tia for Gratitute with Attitude Award

buss first or buss back

Over the recent days with the current economic crisis, I have revisited in my head conversations and discussions I have had with a number of my folk over the years. Many on the future of America especially since it is real in the field again. I first left Memphis at age 17 heading off to Morehouse. Getting there, I learned ATL was a whole lot different than Memphis. Morehouse was the shit and what I learned there was like something from Mr. Rodgers. You know, make believe. It was like folks could leave where they were from, go to a new place and have a whole new persona – like make believe. You know they get to college and could play rich, they could play tough or like they were from the streets, or gangster and stuff like that. All I noticed that an A was 90 to 100 unlike the 96 to 100 I had been used to in the Memphis public school system, so was up for taking advantage of that caused the grading system meant I could make believe I was smart.

Being from flip town, also know as the Bluff city, it was simply amazing, I mean I met black folks from Portland for example, who could hoop – amazing as well as some basically smart cats that were some generally trill folk. I mean folk who had read Hegel, Diop and Frantz Fanon before they got to college as I had which made me feel at home. Cats who know the books as well as the streets. But there were only a hand full though and out of all them folk, two folk I remember in particular outside my homeboys and some others [ yawl know who yawl are] were my folk Mike Green and V-Hall. They were from South Carolina, Charleston South Carolina, and off the bat folk recognized folk. V-Hall and Mike were different folk being from where they were. They had keloid knobs on their wrist where they had cut them and stopped the bleeding to show their allegiance to they folk. Being from Memphis, all we acknowledged were gold safety pins in our left ears and all my folk who attended the house with me [Cadillac, Storming Norman and those who were AMB] had the same experiences and beliefs.

A many nights we would sit, as if Hegel and Hume, we talked about our local home fronts as well as our local commandments of existence. Many were the same but some were different. One that I recall vividly was the philosophical discussion of “buss first or buss back.”

They were of the belief that if one pulled a pistol, they should be the ones to bust first. Unlike me and mine who acknowledged accountability and believed in Bussing’ back after being fired upon. For us it would be a case of self defense and plausible deniability. Their argument was strong, but ours was too. I just wonder with the way things are today: folks stealing beer and can goods from grocery stores and fighting in gas lines, and loosing jobs at a rate of about 100k a month, and everything going up in price and the dollar shrinking in value, will I change my position from bussing back to bussing first?

Intro to Memphisian 101

I will free your mind today.
thought amnesty. u dont have to think - let me entertain u

Point of order: 12Kyle stopped by shop again. Nice tie folk. Now Candy, Bombchell, Ms. Bitchie and Brran1 got to make it through, I mean yawl in the ATL

2] Love babz placed a wikapedia link up for me she said I coined phrase bloglebriety - she say i am such-lmbao.

A few weeks ago No Regrets said I talk a foreign language and Kelso labeled it Memphisian. I gave yawl a remedial course. Now its time for the first 3 hr credit billy, so here goes.

1] Murch: Similar in meaning to much. Often used to describe someone’s wild escapades

Example: Mane, Jones there is murch to murch for me.

2] Panty-draws: Undergarments typically worn by females. Not to be confused with panties (paperbag covering deuce deuce or 40 oz) - see pic.

Example: Lil Momma take them panty-draws off and come correct.

3] Chickenhead: Typical description of Cannibas, especially of the purple haired variety. So potent that if it is taken out the bag it will stand up and via smell say cocka-doodle-doo. In other places used to describe a women with lest than stellar or desirable qualities as a mate.

Example: Jones, I got that chicken head.

4] Dana: Similar to “than a”. Used to exclaim the profoundness of an event. Often used twice for that purpose.

Example” Mane, they was wilder dana mug.

5] Mug: Short for the MF word and often used as a noun to inform exclamation. Also used as a form of punctuation similar to an exclamation point.

Example: mane, she was finer dana mug. (notice use of two terms in one sentence)

6] Zwagin: Beyond swinging. Typically reserved for the life style of those acknowledged as raw dawg buffalo.

Example: Jones, we was zwangin’ harder dana a mug last night. (Again, use of two words in a sentence)

7]KFC: Acronym for Killafied Cap. Used to describe bomb azz felatio that extends beyond the plain ole “chewing” or “skull”.

Example: Lil momma, you got that KFC.

Now study hard, we down with pop quizzes up in this camp. Extra credit below:

8] Wa-ta: Pronounced water. Used as a synonym for moonshine, usually made by someone’s aunt, uncle or grand mother.

9] SBIO: Picked up from old school book/movie classic sybil. Used to refer to a crazy woman. Acronym for 16 bitches in one. vote

intro to memphisian 099 (remedial)

I will free your mind today.
thought amnesty. u dont have to think - let me entertain u

I have been told by some that I speak memphasian, as well by others that I need to learn how to type and use a spell checker. That aside. I will introtuce yawl to some of the terms i grew up saying. You alread know about words and phrases such as Jones, folk, fck boy, bitch azz ni**a. So here are a few more. With a sentence to match.

Panties - brown paper bag used to cover an ice cold deuce-deuce, quart or can of beer such to hide its contentsw and keep beverage cold.
Sentence: Mane, take them panties of that 40.

Foglin' - used to describe a lazy or triffling person that talks more than their acts produce.
Sentence: Mane, I dont mess with jones, he be foglin' all the time.

Kroger sac - in the days of brown paper bags, this was used to describe what one would have to do to tolerate having sex with a woman of none cosmetic astutness.
Sentence: man, I saw slim you was with, know you had to use a Kroger sac.

for real though (pronounced - 4 real dough) - used to state exclaimation. Similar in context to "Word" and synonomous to "straight" and "true" as used in these parts of the dirty

Use of prepositions - this is more of semantics and phonetic. Most folk use one preposition in a sentence. Memphis folk add them together.

Example: In traditional English people may say "I am out."
We say: : "Mane, I'm gone on up out of this camp." Please note 5 prepositions in a row.
Pony Piss - Colt 45 malt liquor. No sentece required.

Chiefin - the term used to describe the consumation of herbs. Can be used in statment or question.

Mane, what you doing jones
Response: Chiefin

Pimp - professional in the management of a prostitute
or
PPimp
Putting paper in my pocket.

Deuce-Deuce - 220z beverage, most likey a Beer


Cut - Plase of domicile or abode.
Sentence: Mane, I'm at the cut.

I would go on, but this is just a small and brief primer on why Jones talk the way he do and how my folk at cut talk. Hope you enjoyed.

Once upon an Oligarchy

Point of order: Been jamming that Hill St. (saint) Soul, love that cut Pieces, check it, cop that.

As many of you know, i'm forever calling folks out, even myself. I often use terms of endearment such as fk boy, or bitch azz to suppurate these thoughts into manageable constructs. Today I will use another term that I was familiarized with while growing up in Memphis – weak azz bitch. Now before I start, I want to say that this direct objectified gerund is neither race nor gender specific, and tends to be best exemplifying of collective acts that can be perpetrated by individulas or groups, for example the congress - especially the democratic members.

I have always been curious how folks can always say one thing and do another. Like the child that says they don’t want to go outside, but cries when you don’t let them out, or the woman that says she doesn’t want to be with a certain man, but wants him after he has removed himself from her life, or as I have mentioned in the prior paragraph, a congress person who says they disagree with a certain policy yet supports it via vote.

Although unlike most of us, who just get a day off for the fourth of July weekend the Senate went home yesterday for the Fourth of July holiday without doing jack to deal with the pressing economic conundrums facing regular folk like us. All though the folk on both side of the aisle say they gone handle theirs, from my vantage point, they appear to act more like a gaggle of weak azz bitches.

Not only did the housing rescue bill could not proffer any love via a test vote, they also could not approve an electronic surveillance legislation to prevent physicians who accept Medicare (H.R. 6331: Medicare Improvements for Patients and Providers Act of 2008) from getting hit with a large percent pay cut. I mean it was passed in the house but filibustered in the Senate.

The only thing that these folks were able to do, I mean by a skunk measure (zero opposition votes) was the passing of a bill to fund the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan that also increases benefits for veterans.

I think the last measure was a good thing. However, it just strikes me as strange that all these democrats voted for this bill, but will likely go back home on the stump, to their districts and talk about how much money we wasting on this war effort. Talking about being two faced and slimy. I mean, it would be disingenuous for me, if I was a poly (many) trickster to say I disagree with all the loot going for the war effort as well as how it is being spent, but yet at the same time vote for the measure. The legislation, passed by a vote of 268-155, with Democrats logging 80 votes with republicans. I won’t call any name this time, but you can find who voted for what here. But that’s why I feel that this republic, for which it stands, seems to be more like an oligarchy each day – u know, “a government in which a small group exercises control especially for corrupt and selfish purposes” – namely staying in office and getting paid.

ps: good look SkoolBoi and Gemni girl for stopping by the shop this weekend. Also Ensayn Reality and marcelle ward for the shout outs.

Denouement

I first came across the word denouement in a 7^th grade honors English class. It was really part of a program in the Memphis Public Schools called CLUE (Creative Learning in a Unique Environment). Don’t know why they asked me to be in it, by the 8^th grade I got kicked out for playing paper football and reading comic books, but I think what got them was when I did a Book Report on Valley of the Dolls – any who.

The word is a French word meaning "unwinding," and supposedly refers to the outcome or result of a complex situation or sequence of events, an aftermath or resolution that usually occurs near the final stages of the plot of a novel and normally occurs or starts after the climax is over. For me, it occurs only after all the conflicts have been resolved.

I wanted to use this word to describe my present sentiments about me and mine, my community that is for it is almost reflective of a tragic story, like The Princess De Cleves by Madame de Lafayette or Rameau's Nephew by Denis Diderot or even my own A Matter of Attention, which is about a writer who tries to figure about what it is about writing that he loves so much when he makes no money from it. Such to the extent that he feels he has to select the Love of his life (Margarita) or his writing, which to him is more loving than any woman could be.

The way I see, many of us have lost our ways, whether it is the person who is too lazy to work hard for a small few and select to sell drugs for quick profits or the woman that wants to take off her clothes for men for a green piece of paper. Whether it is a teacher in our school system that spend more time on what she or he will wear and in Lennox Mall than the Library. Or even those that cannot abide by the adage of doing unto others as they would like other to do unto themselves. Regardless, we have a problem for in reality many of us fail to realize that a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush.

We have lost our way, and I aint no preacher nor am I a prognosticator, but just a regular man who cannot compass when we started to loose our way. It is as if the fortitude for lying is more acceptable than being honest and telling the truth. Or that fake images mean more than evincing a sever depiction for other to know or learn about us. I mean in music and movies, this is so vivid. We admire the oleaginous flow of a TI or as Lil Wayne but yet do not take them to task for glorifying infidelity, personal responsibility and having the common sense and decency to evaluate the impact of their messages under the guise of the beat being funky or they just making money. We don’t tolerate the same irresponsibility of George Bush, but we can from folks who in action are just as foul and dangerous to our understanding of communal value. No wonder the family and lack of respect for such is rampant. We expect our mates to love our children as we do after a failed relationship yet will not do the same, for if they are not our children we hold disdain. We expect for people to love us unconditionally yet we cant or don’t love ourselves enough to know or understand love. I see why the Native Americans could not come to agreements or treaties with the white men of the era for they did not practice what the preached and were dishonest. We say family is important but the truth is it is not. especially for us men who place running the streets over calling or being with or kids, or those women who would prefer to place their feelings over their children and use them as pawns.

So, I guess I will close and say. We need to look at how we contribute to dissonance in chaos in our own minds and hearts and stop blaming other for what we do and don’t practice ourselves. In this novel, the one we all are involved in, is at its Denouement, and one of a very crappy E Lynn Jerome Dickey Tyree Novel if you asked me – my 2 cents

PS: Bags are in. you Like?

side bar: KG deserves a ring.

40 on 40

This April will mark the 40th anniversary of the death of Martin Luther King Jr. It’s been forty years since that tragic day in Memphis of which I still recall very vividly.

Forty years, so what has happened since then? Let’s us see, well outside of more folk like me on television and in movies, albeit still in the roles of tricksters and clowns, fewer African American farmers, lower literacy rates and easier access to guns, credit cards, and strip malls (and clubs), I would suggest very little.

This strikes me as strange, for although I can see some movement toward his vision, it seems wit each step we progress forward, we are either kicked back or worse, kicking ourselves back three or four more steps. Yes, we have seen four or five Presidential candidacies from the likes of Jackson, Chisom and recently, Obama. But outside of that, I can’t place my hand on any one tangible accomplishment other than the vote (BTW which my granny said they didn’t die and bleed in the streets for – in her words it was justice and liberty). She as the men in my family always told me that if you have to ask for freedom, then one must question if they are actually free.

I mean, never was this so clear, the divisiveness when I accidentally ran across the forum annual held by Tavis Smiley last week. Dr. Cornel West and another member of the panel ripped him apart, for less than petty reasons, one being that he had the audacity to announce his candidacy on the same weekend of the forum. They even had a problem with him announcing his candidacy at the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln, Springfield, Illinois. Never mind that it makes good sense, being that Senator Obama is the U.S. Senator from the State of Illinois, in which the State Capitol is SPRINGFIELD.

I guess folks like West and Smiley and even BET founder Jones feel that Obama has to kiss and wipe their ass for permission, or worse, that he aint black enough to stand for or represent black folk in America. Especially given his perspective regarding where Obama’s loot is coming from. Talking about "white” folk and “Jewish” folk money and all.

To me it shows that he is able to gather support from all folk not to mention that the astute scholar, who I met personally while in Ethiopia during an AIDS conference, doesn’t seem to recall that legal and tender notes we call dollars are green and have no religious affiliation. He called him the “skinny guy with the funny name.”

West himself, when invited to Chicago by Rev. Michael Pfleger to speak at his St. Sabina mass said himself that “We have been living for 40 years in a political, moral and spiritual ice age.”

Like I said, its been 40 years since that day an assassin murdered one of my idols, one of the men, regardless of color that spawned my mind to think freely, and critically. And what has happened since then, I would suggest little, now we enslave ourselves. But it took Moses 40 years, maybe now is really the time.

y yawl hang up on me jones

Yo, after the post I wrote on Mike Savage, I made a pledge to myself to tackle injustice where it rose. No, I aint the super friends but I made such a commitment to myself. Being that I live in Atlanta, I was provided such an opportunity today. We got a radio station in the ATL and such an opportunity came to my attention. So me, being the proactive, albeit I have no bumps, person as I am, I went for it and called in.

“Hello.”

“Yea, I want to speak to Webbie.”

“OK, what would u like to say.”

“Well I wanted to ask him why was he such a fuckboy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I wanted to say he was a fuckboy.”

“We don’t take calls from hatters.”

“I aint hating Jones, I jus wanna know why he don’t he talk about academic performance, staying out of jail and being a man.”

“Well, we don’t take them type of calls.”

“What type of calls, aint yawl representing the community? I’m the community?”

“Click.”

“Why you hang up on me Jones?”

I did not get on the air, but I suspect that personal acumen tells me why, because I was not trying to get on the air and suck his dick by saying I liked his music. True, I did, but I wanted Jones to hear what a BT nigga had to say about his message. I figured he would take it from me. After all, if he were in Memphis, he’d probably be looking up at idolizing me as a ruthless savagebeastmonsta. He would have likely been one of the 800 folks jumping to Jones here finger snap. But they wouldn’t le me on the air.

And sad thing is my folk work for that same radio station, and he a DJ and bonafied Trill (BT). I guess its cool to position oneself as caring about our community but when folk like me call up, it is an affront to their cosmetic dignity for holding fools and idiots to a higher level of respect and personal responsibility. Like I’m posed to be scared of his self proclaimed thugin and being trill.

So all I am saying is that, they should have let me talk to Jones. I can tell that he smart and a hard worker, and that he probably would have listened to me but they got telephone screeners. So to Hot XXX.X, yawl need to represent folks like me, cause if he trill, he can take critisism, and folk here would have told Jones where he could find me.

Ode to Miss Anne

As I have recanted an inordinate amount of time, I am a country boy. I’m proud to be a country boy and from flip flops and socks, to wearing my hair in Plats, I personify that pick-up truck driving, wild boar throat cutting while its live, Jones who owns throwing axes, rifles and 11 acres to personification.

This weekend, in-between auto junkyards looking for some parts to fix my truck, or get it fixed, I stopped by an associate of mine Birthday party. His woman had asked me to come through. Now this not one of my real folk but he my folk and I see him regularly at this little Jamaican redneck joint in Fairburn, Georgia called Latitudes. Now I’m in Palmetto, and to put into perspective it is about six miles down Roosevelt Highway from my spread.

The bar, well, they serve Jamaican food, is owned by this kat named Les who is originally from Negril, Jamaica. Like I say, he a cool kat, and a real Rum dranker. The catch is that since it is in the country, half the clientele are NASCAR, bud-drinking rednecks. And they my folk and I love them.

While at the party, one of the bartender, all of which are women, Miss Anne, had added a dish to the buffet – Brunswick stew. If you all aint never heard or tried it, let me tell you it’s the bomb. Again, from me, this country boy, for if anything, you all should know I love sports, getting head, sex, Tequila and Food.

Miss Anne is my girl, she an ole white woman that legend tells us, can cook her ass off, like all of the other r bartenders according to patrons. And I’m glad to be one. The bar is better than Cheers, I mean everybody knows your name and what you drinking. Not to mention the pool tables and DJ that be dropping the best cuts from the ATL to Memphis, as well as country music. Everybody needs a placed like this to go too. And if any yawl in town, best believes I’m gone take yawl there. Now back to this stew. The bomb in one word. And to show how country I am, it was made with pork, possum, Rabbit, Chicken and squirrel. All I could recognize was the squirrel.

thank we free

Yo folk, this is self-evaluative…. we some fked up folks. We seem and appear to care about the mundane, music, sports (of which I am guilty also) entertainers, what folks think of us and anything that really has no direct bearing on our immediate lives. I spent tonight looking at "Boycott": The Montgomery Bus Boycott while I figure many folks were or are out having fun, at a bar, or a club or just out in the streets. And for the record, Jeffrey Wright and Terrence Howard put it down. We didn’t have such worries or cares when we were in the bowels of slave ships being transported to foreign lands.

It is just that now; our slave ships are landed in front of us, on walls and in our bedrooms and come with remote controls. The folk in Montgomery went 381 days without riding the bus. Taking cabs, car pooling, walking and what have you to express their passion for right and showing that thing were not, as the say ALL GOOD. We can’t go without a telephone, a car, a television, the club, or any other material contamination with out bitching and complaining or fusing. Then there is the conundrum of being too lazy to read and the tendency to take what ever we see on the cathode ray tube as being gospel without query.

I aint trying to be deep, albeit folks say I am and chastise me for such, but if the perception is that I am, then so be it. I’m certain Martin King Jr. said the same. But necessity and reality dictated that he had to be deep for others were too shallow(2 quote Gnarles Barkley "its deep how u can be so shallow"), to soft, to scared, to un-informed, poorly read and too preoccupied with the surface contingent to observe that things were not as good as they appeared.

See I still remember when I was six, and Dr. King was murdered in my fair city of Memphis. I can still recant of that day. Of my uncle marching from Hamilton High School, the same school I attended, with the same teachers that taught him and my mother and her sisters, heading toward downtown to burn it down – and that they did. That night all over the city, I can still see to this day the National Guards in their jeeps and on every corner, telling me directly, couldn’t play outside after 8pm in my own yard. I could see the flames lighting up the sky all the way from downtown.

Yea folk, we got a problem, we thank we free, not think, for if we thought, then we would discern the opposite, that we are still, if not more slave than ever. Our passion is not justice, or liberty or self-determination but instead, money, fame, status, and the penchant to not to wan to be bothered about any thing that requires rigorous thought, planning or rumination.

So I write this, take the time to pen these ruminations of mine in honor of the aforementioned man on the weekend leading up to his commemoration. For I learned from him and others that there is a great urgency to attempt to present the invisible to the blind, in times that are perilous when the masses cannot. You see, I take pride for being able to recant his speeches, as well as those of others, and knowing that I have read nearly all of all he and such individuals took the time to write from within the corpus of their being and spirit via their intellect. See I am a fighter for what is just and even worse what I believe in as long as it is not petty. I don’t like to box, albeit I can, for I’d rather beat a person down with brain cells. My momma always told me that if you wanna hide something from a nigga put it a book. I took that lesson to heart and came to realize aint no body deep, others are just lazy and desire for others to do the work for the, So with that said. Dr. King, toast to you. Good Lookin'.

And my folk Eb .... thanks for making me reflect, i guess i cant help it...u good people

poor mr. or mrs. next president

It was my intention to not discuss the caucus results of Iowa and or Barack Obama at all so early in the election. I was hoping after reading a substantial corpus of blogs from around the globe I would see a majority of the implications discussed. Especially after such a "stunning" victory (others words not mine; stunning to me is 50% of the votes).

For the record, your boy here likes to stack a little change. Easy change which means using your brain. Maybe some consulting or statistical data analysis mostly, but also in them markets, precious metals and Forex exchanges. I mean I bought my first stocks when the DOW was at 3500 (which fell today 266.84 to 12,998.28). So one could suffice to say I have accrued and nice sum of chump change.

However, I feel that whoever the next President is, there will be something to deal with that won't be easily dealt with either with the rhetoric of experience or new leadership. This week, an ominous and unfortunate event occurred, the price of oil went over the mythical $100.00 a barrel mark. Although it returned below that level, it did happen.

True, the price is a function of increasing demand, especially from countries in Asia like china and India, but it is also a major consequence of the falling dollar. It is also a function of disruptions abroad due to civil unrest and war. Not to mention, that in America, there is no productivity in manufacturing, we make nothing anymore, no job creation and as noted in 2007, a 40% increase in consumers filing of bankruptcies. The latter itself is the function of another indicator - the increase in foreclosures and the decline of the housing market.

Now I'm no economist, but I think I was taught well by my 10th grade Econ teacher at Hamilton High School in Memphis, Dr, Moyer, but I can say that when Bush came in, we had a surplus and now, by the next 120 day, who knows, maybe inflation. And the Federal Reserve may not be able to do nothing about it. I mean as long as I have been investing, in particular in forex and precious metals, the dollar normally increased proportionally to the price of Gold. Now the dollar goes down as gold (and oil) increases. This scares the fuck out of me and the 300K plus I have saved over the years.

So yep, Obama won Iowa. I do wish him the best albeit I am supporting neither democratic or the republican nominee. Nonetheless, still more states and regardless of whoever wins, I feel sorry for poor Mr. or Mrs. President, whoever they maybe.

[PS: ANY YAWL SEE HOW ROMNEY STOLE THE MESSGE OF CHANGE FROM YO FOLK OBAMA-LOL. THEY STOLE ROCK NOW THIS.]

Haute Couture

Went to a fashion show over the weekend. My boy wanted to shoot some models to build his clientele and my girl was star of the show. Now I am not a frequenter of fashion shows, let alone runway fashion shows, outside in 92 degree weather, when I was at home, sprawled naked across my bed prepared to watch the college world series in the anticipation of three SEC teams making it to Omaha.

I got their somewhat late, had to drop little momma of at the sitter and her disposition was again one of recalcitrance. In addition, when I arrived I had to use the bathroom so I stopped at my homeboy’s studio, which was across the street to take care of that. He was trying to convince me to go to some celebrity basketball game at Morehouse with those over his house (Dem Franchise Boy’s and this other kid that engineer’s for him). I respectfully declined and went on my way.

I arrived somewhat late. However, it was not late enough to miss the majority of the show. My boy was high post at the end of the runway snapping and my girl was looking like a real model. I saw her but she did not see me. I was on the backside talking to this guy with a barb-Q pit selling meat and beer and water who I found out was from Memphis too. But she did not see me I imagine since she called me from cell found to query about my location. To stop a fight I told her I saw her and described what she had on.
But the Bar BQ pit was the bomb. I mean it was the first fashion show I had gone too that served meat. So I enjoyed myself to the utmost, sitting in the shade, watching my girl model and my boy mogul every model into buying his pictures as if he was Mr. Haney on Greenacres, and eating ribs. Now that is fashion show and my idea of haute couture.

The New Civil Rights Battle

Man, let me make one query, what is the new civil rights battle currently and of the future? No, it is not gay rights, but if you do not have an answer, I will take the liberty to proffer that it is simply to get these fools back in line in the African American community.

See, I was raised in Memphis, and I recant vividly the presence of National Guards on my street telling me I could not go outside and play in my own front yard the night Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed. My uncle along with his entire student body cut high school that day and the following day to go down town and wreck some feces. My momma worked at the hospital they took Dr. King to – pronounced dead on arrival. He was transported to the hospital in a bread truck she told me.

Now, unlike in the pass, often the enemy is we and our penchant for self-destructive behavior. Now, we have momma’s stabbing and killing their kids, Momma’s giving their sons guns to go and kill other children and high school coaches taking part in drive-by shootings. Last but not least, there is the presence of the new KKK – so called lyricist in the rap game that promote drug dealing, copulating with other men’s women, disrespect for family bonds and relationships, killing as if life is worthless and material in the form of diamond encrusted watches, teeth, and cars with spinning rims as being more valuable than thought or scholarship in the form of dialectical rumination. Ergo, I submit to you that this is the new battleground for civil rights in our community and that I find myself guilty too, if I cannot get these fools back in line.

claimin Tru

Folk bout to get ghost, heading to the home front, flip town – Memphis. I will be traveling with my body god, or as Charlie Chan would say, his number one son. And dont forget numbe one daughter - body guard number 2. So I’m making a cd for the road trip. Got some us for certain (savagbeastmonsta-sameblakmuthafucas), and some Three six, Rick Ross, and some more assorted folk – mostly Memphis and ATL.

I can’t wait, Memphis like my woman, for she raised me not to mention that outside of my writing and music, no woman ever loved me so much. It’s like Rick Ross say coincidentally, “I got a V-12 sweeter than a female." That’s how the cut, writing and music are to Jones main. And being as such, I can’t claim no other. I would never dare to do such for it would in evidence say I was a mark, Busta, faker or lame. Of which for the record I aint am (I’m country) of the above. This inclusive of a nigga being up in the ATl for double figure years removed.

Specifically, I claim where I was born, lived and raised, which is a mixture of time periods in Castalia Heights and on Castalia in addition to South Parkway. I would never claim Evergreen, North Memphis, Bing Hampton, or Orange Mound for I am a South Parkway nigga.

Some folks don’t take this serious and may even relegate this disposition evinced by myself as being rudimentary, elementary or even childish. Whatever the case it is what it is and I cannot do anything other. To me, it like a brother from Cobb County in Atlanta, Georgia proper claiming Bankhead – God forbid. So really this is Shakespeare (Much to Do About Nothing). I mean, I took up and used all these words to say, be proud of what you are and never forget, regardless where you come from. For many of us, that include Africa, for as Dr. Yosef A.A. ben-Hochannan said, just because a cat has kittens in an oven, don’t make them biscuits (paraphrased). So don front, you can be who you are still even if you from Cobb County. I’m just from South Memphis and claim tru with three fingers down for M-town..

Whoop That Trick

The audacity of some Negroes and aunt Tomisinas have to criticize folks just because they don’t present the modus operandi of that reflects their own personal penchant. Me I could care less what other think of me but more so what I think of myself.

A long time ago we would never criticize each other in public, but now that has changed with the basic desire many of our upper class citizens. I just read an article by one Jill Nelson. Mrs. Nelson (if married and able to keep a husband), indubitably has a problem with Young black men who are not equal in her personal experiences. What I do know about Slim Goodie is that she was born in Harlem, raised in Harlem and graduated from the City College of New York and Columbia University’s School of Journalism.

In a recent article she wrote that “Sidney Poitier, Denzel Washington, and Will Smith--all of them previously recognized by the academy either as nominees or as Oscar recipients--convinced Terrence Howard not to sing the song from Hustle & Flow at the Academy Awards,” even writing that.” Poitier is quoted as having told Howard, "Do not get up there and represent the African-American community singing about a pimp."

The types of magazines she write for probably are not read by Three-Six, let alone folks who listen to the band. I do read The Washington Post, The Nation, and The Chicago Tribune though, but I don’t particularly care about what I consider “uppity Negro / House Slave Fiction.”

Her recent book, Finding Martha’s Vineyard: African Americans at Home on an Island, may give us some insight into her expanse of what it may be like to be a young African American man in Memphis, who has made it basically by ingenuity and telling the world about what he lives and experiences daily in his. According to Jill, she described Three 6 Mafia as “barely able to speak English” and described their award acceptance as a “spectacle of the group members onstage, complete with gold fronts and baggy clothing that featured designer names in oversize letters--the modern-day equivalent of branding slaves as property.” Now i dont expect everone to speak memphis, but I do expect folks to be able to comprehend the sheer joy that was honestly displayed by my home boys. When I spoke with Frayser boy the monday after he apeared on stage to get his acadamy award, he was still excited.

Miss, Ms. or Mrs. Nelson, Bravo, for in your honor I would hope that one day someone walks up to you and recants the words of that famous Memphis philosopher Ska Face Al Kapone “whoop that Trick.”