As the Insane Reports: Break Yourself.....Fool

Yesterday, I was informed that some internet churl was “going in on me” on his/her internet radio show for an essay I penned noting the habits (contingencies of reinforcement) of African Americans, in particular individuals under the age of thirty regarding their usage of social media – specifically Twitter. In this person eyes, I was a “dumbass” and an “idiot.” So as a result, I will put down the copy of Fear and trembling I am reading and respond to his vitriol as quick as I can so I can be finished before Watson star’s on jeopardy.

Too bad this animalcule (to use a term coined by Voltaire in his story Micro magas) lacked the home training and erectior ingenii (nobility of mind) to invite me on his show to engage in discussion to advance rumination on the subject. But such was not the case, bringing me to conclude that what I noted in my essay unnerved him for it may have been akin to him reading about himself. Otherwise discussion would have proceeded as was the case historically with many diversified voices of past African American scholars when they reasonably disagreed with one another.

Obviously this person is no scholar as evinced in both his defensive posture and vehement vilification of me personally. The fact of the matter is that twitter is an extension of many of our daily activities. Truth is black folk watch Television more than the read and many of us do not even read a newspaper daily. Likewise we spend equally as much time as we do watching television as we do on twitter. I do not see what is wrong about bringing this up. If these observations are not consistent, otherwise we would not place education and intellectualism below fame, status, entertainment, wealth and/or celebrity. We are already a dumber-down populous or else we would recall that reading in itself is a revolutionary act. We take this for granted currently when in one epoch we were killed, blinded or had out tongues removed for learning to read or teach others this skill.

It was rather bazaar, some of the comments the article received. One woman said that “he forgot Haiti.” Which proves my point that is like saying we have a black valedictorian, yet 65 % of all the other black students in the class failed the 12th grade. Why is so difficult for people to see how many of us use the medium? I firmly believe that we are wasting a valuable opportunity when we tweet about where one is eating, pictures at the club, or of the shoes we just bought. If we do not maximize its utility – that’s a problem. Just like when only 12% of African American fourth grade boys are proficient in reading; or that only 20% of black boys and girls report having a average in school compared to 55% of whites – that’s a problem.

It’s cool to say that African Americans represent 12 percent of the US population yet comprise 52 percent of the federal prisons but not when you say we make up 25 percent of social media users. I understand MLK Jr and he was correct when he said “Nothing in the world is more dangerous than a sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.” This makes Harriet Tubman’s words even more sagacious. She said “I freed a thousand slaves I could have freed a thousand more if only they knew they were slaves.”

It only makes sense for many of us live as mental slaves, continue to enslave ourselves with materialism daily and worse, don’t even know that we are slaves. The unfortunately reality is that as a people, we are not as academically oriented in raising our children as white and Asian communities, or else we would read as much to our kids in the 5th grade as other ethnic groups. Unfortunately we do not. We do read the same to our kids, daily while aged four through six, but less than 30 percent daily by the time they are in the 5th grade compared to 70 percent for whites and Asians. Yes it is true, we are more concerned with what Veblen articulates and described as “conspicuous consumption.”

I find this discussion essential and important. In particular as a single parent of two, my son of which received an academic scholarship to Morehouse, a 30 on his ACT, a perfect score on math and all-state honorable mention in Baseball. And my daughter, who can give correct change, add and subtract and read at the age of five.

But then again what do I know for in the purview of Mr. /Ms. insanityreport self-fulfilling prophecy and in their own words, I am an “idiot and a “dumbass.” for presenting a personal scheme. And we all should know as Daniel Bell pointed out, “conceptual schemes are neither true nor false but [rather] useful or not.

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?

Riddle me this #3

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

1] Is dog toe nail polish different than human, and should I carry it in my store?

2] WORD PROBLEM: Verizion say I get unlimited calls for $99.00 a month, and that they have free calls for verizon to verizon calls, if all my calls from verizion folk, shouldn’t my bill be zero? Pleas express answer in a quadratic equation.

3] Is it just me or do Abe Lincoln and Jefferson Davis look like Twins or brothers?

4] If Iraq has 169K square miles and Afghanistan has 250K square miles, why do we have 170K troops in Iraq versus 60K in Afghanistan, when they say Afghanistan is more important on the war against Terror than Iraq?

5] If folks in Thailand had documented the existence of the Giant Fresh Water Sting Ray for centuries, how can scientist say it was only discovered 18 years ago?

6] Why is that a woman can have pretty azz toes when painted but can look busted than a mug without toenail polish?

7] What gives people the right to get upset when you tell the truth about them?

8] Am I the only Jones in the blogoverse who know a plethora of folks who wear rollers (pink foam) in they hair?

Addendum: Sister Gp drop a C note at my store, good look folk and met some of them black bloggers at the conf folk. Good Look K Ross, my Morehouse class mate and alum.

I’m a blessed mf

I aint trying to be sentimental and shit, but I got to get this out of me, although I need to drop this piece I wrote about John McCain and another post on Cubans in Florida. and the US governments history of laying with dictators. You know today, I realized how BLESSED I was. I have been dealing with a lot of shit inclusive of automobile trouble lately, well the last 4 weeks. And as such, it required that I utilize close to 2700$ on a rent-a-car, well really several rentals. Today, I returned the rental and picked up my truck. It still needed a manifold and it sounded like a laboratory run by a mad scientist (I resemble that remark). But it was drivable and that was good enough for me. Lil momma was in the back seat and we were in route to pick up lil daddy.

We got Jones, stopped by the shop for a few and headed to the cut. As soon as folk got on the highway, it stopped, I mean it cut off, sounded to me like the alternator although Jones here aint no auto mechanic. I was just BLESSED that my cousin was behind me. She was dropping off a cell phone for my son since his mom took it away from him because she didn’t like his attitude towards her husband (I think they married). When her husband, the adult was the one who cursed at my son. No I didn’t take it there, but I felt like it. See it does pay off to have brain cells.

I pulled over between the median, right adjacent to Grady Hospital. I was upset but never frustrated. My cousin attempted to give me a boost, but to no avail, I mean everything worked electrically so it wasn’t the battery. I asked her to take my son and daughter to my house and that I would be there. I had no money. No checks in from Morehouse School of Medicine, but mainly because I had not hit the bank and would not be able to. They left and I kept trying. I would have called my folk, but my cell was dead. I know big slim (owner of Do It Right Car wash), or Red (Jet Bail Bonding) or Damon (owner M Bar) or Tony Oh or Smooth or any my folk would have been there but I couldn’t contact them. Then my folk Willie Mitch Drove by, and then Vaughn, we had all gone and graduated from Morehouse College together. We tried but eventually had to push the car to the road. The last person to stop was this State Trooper, Officer Patton (see u at the signing). He was professional and cool to the max. We all talked, folks that we knew blew their horns and it almost turned into a mini Freaknic. I signed a book for the Officer. And Mitch took me to the cut,

I was BLESSED. All of this on a day when Jose, hadn’t done what he said he would, repair my truck, and on a day when I found out my daughters mother, well how can I say…Well put it this way, my mom left me with my granny while she was at Vanderbilt in graduate school. She and my granny told me it was crushing to her to leave me behind. But each break, she would return and spend each and every hour of the day with me until she went back. I was only two. My daughter’s mom says she misses her little princes (i'm sure she does honestly) and that she dislikes her being a daddy’s girl, but I found out she was in Florida, sloshed on the back of some motorcycle during bike week. Now she will say I am bashing her when what I said about my mom, her sentiments, and her selecting the latter (self) ovr child is true. I say the truth will set u free and free your mind and your ass will follow (George Clinton). Any who, my point is, Truck broke down, I found about the aforementioned, cell phone was dead, no loot in my pocket, no job, but I had a shipment of dog food come in, shop coming along fine, my friends were there for me to depend on, my kids were safe, and I never got or felt down at all. In fact I just smiled, just like the sun was doing on this 75-degree day in the ATL. I am BLESSED.

But I figure if it is the truth, it is the truth. I am a BLESSED MF. Not to mention I have no shame in writing what I experience. George Bush even says we bash him for no reason at all regarding the Iraq war when 1] he said it was over 3 years ago on a battle ship and 2] that they had wmd’s. But I’m home now, I got a 40-ounce and kids are loud as fuck. I do regret now going over to Jose’s last Friday with my pistol. Didn’t mean to scare him, cause it got me a fucked up deal, but it was that South Memphis in Jones that just seeped out accidently. But what the fuck, I mean, I’ll just spend more on my truck. So yawl support your folk, just another poor starving writer of the mad scientist variety who acknowledges that there is a thin line between brilliance and insanity…..and them two post coming next week.

Dick ridin’ aint my thang

Preface: I am a writer, I write what I feel or think, and don’t give a fuck if folks like or dislike; believe or don’t believe what I write, I write for me, it is cathartic. Secondly, I don’t blog to meet dames or impress bitches or women – there is a difference between the three. I write what is me, rather in book form, verse, this blog or the essays I write for newspapers, and even letters. I sign my name to all with pride cause I really don’t give a fuck about what others think about what I write – I am not Ralph Tresvant. In fact, I think a real writer don’t care what folks think or who even reads what the write. Ask The Morehouse school of Medicine. LOL. With that said.

Had a woman once tell me that my ego needed to be stroked; I corrected her and retorted “no maam, just my dick and my stomach and preferably the latter with neck bones, pig ears, hot water cornbread and/or ribs. My ego is cool, so I don’t worry about it but it is my id that I attempt to attend to.” Why do I say this? Well because I figure I know me better than anyone else. Most folks, even those who called themselves knowing or being close to me don’t. They tend to look at the surface contingent as opposed to the action, and use such to distinguish, and even worse define my behavior and what it means.

I know me. I know when I am hungry or horny, or aint had no sleep, I’m not the one to fuck with and can be vile, uncivil and uncouth, albeit folks say that about me anyway. I know that when folks disrespect, lie to me or play me like I’m dumb Jones that I shake and tremble, and have to control myself before shit hits the fan. But they don’t know me. I mean even my daughter mother thinks it means something else, like, well I don’t know what she thinks it means. If my team looses, I can’t look at ESPN or even get the next day’s paper.

When I am called crazy or disingenuous or stupid, I get quiet, or laugh, because stupidity or the suggestion of such is never entertained and considered by me as amusing and worse, a reflection of the thought processes of the one who advocated such - fatuous. Albeit, I do acknowledge the truism that there is a thin line between brilliance and insanity, which I cross all the time like a Mexican in Texas.

But the aforementioned is immaterial. I mean, the ego, is immaterial in my life, as a black man. I mean, if I give my all and put forth effort to be my all, and it is not respected or appreciated, I feel it is taken or that I am taken for granted, which I can’t tolerate. As a consequence, I tend not to focus on it as such. As a black man history has told and showed us what such gets us, typically jail or a noose around our necks. So I aint the one to deal with such. When I look in the mirror, I like and know what I see even if others can’t. Its not my problem nor fault, but rater theirs.

I am one that creates, one with sovereign values, as my old roommate from Morehouse, Malik calls God by nature. Since God is everything, the trees, war, love, sun and even me. I have never been one to follow, instead, I blaze new paths, and set my own trends, this is likely why I aint got no woman today. See I’m looking and require a Michelle Obama, a Coretta Scott King, as opposed to some trick that grew up watching Video’s and places herself above her family. This why I am currently unemployed, because I will not beg for shit but would rather speak my mind and take what ever consequence is handed down as a result of such. This is why I despise fuckboys, liars, and people who play games, because they can never see the real, and may even proffer the gumption to suggest I am playing games because I say what I feel and believe. I may not walk with the majority, but that is ok with me, cause in simple terms, I see myself as the “truth” and dick ridding aint my thang. For I am not my degree but rather my experience and actions, so don’t let the PhD and high IQ and collected street acumen fool you. For it is as ancient Memphis macks say, “see what I am saying, say I see.” vote