I’m in a good mood! You lucky. I got a Good Groove.

Day 5- Work. Hope this thing works itself out by Saturday; I got things I want to do. Other than that, nothing to report. Oh, yeah...forget peace in the Middle East, Jay and Nas
shared a stage last night. That is news!

Collabo?

See I'm an 80's baby, mastered Reganomics...

School of hard knocks, every day is college.

I have no power, no hot water, less than a quater tank of gas and I am at work. For the reason why, see the title. (and add to that the fact that my office has power, and my laptop and cell are dying, and there you have it.)

Day 4 of the aftermath journal- chilled out at the crib (note to self, buy alcohol on the way home--and GAS!!!), watched season 2 of the Sopranos. I noted that Meirs withdrew her nomination, decided I don't care; Swoops is gay, decided that I already knew that; the White Sox won the World Series, decided that shit was fixed (2 curses in a row, GTFOH [get the fuck outta here, for the uninitiated]); and I'm the shit, decided that that was obvious (ego is a bitch.)

That's it. I'm grinding, and thus, I'm out.

I Keep My Head-both of them- where they supposed to be...

Hoes'll get cha' sidetracked and clapped up close feet.

Damn! Wilma was a bitch, and not the cuddly female canine variety. Nope this chick came through and put a bother's lights out like Mike Tyson before Robin Givens. So I'm living like cats did in Alabama in 1901, no lights, no hot water, cooking on an outdoor fire. And to tell you the truth, I am having a ball!

Short entry today, but I want to mention and lament the passing of Rosa Parks. We all owe that woman a piece of our time to remember what she did, because let's face it, when she did what she did, she did not know if it would cost her her life. How many of us have ever done something so courageous? Rest in peace, Sister Rosa Parks.


I'm out.

Let me Just Say, I did not come here to show out,

I did not come here to impress you, because to tell you the truth when I leave here I'm gone, and I don't care what you think about me. But just remember, when it hits the fan, whether it's next year, 10 years, 20 years from now, you'll never be able to say this brother lied to you jack.

Why is it that we, as a people aren't more exacting? I ask this, not as a criticism, but merely an observation. We like to have our own things; awards shows, cable channels, radio stations, books; yet the quality of these things are often far from superb.

I ask this in light of a conversation I was having with a friend of mine when she attempted to suggest some books. Eric Jerome Dickey and Michael Baisden titles were brought up, then immediately dismissed--not because of some of the pertinent character and plot flaws (from the clichéd to the absurd)-- but because the grammar, the wording is ridiculously childish. We can do better. We should be.

Ah, well, I complain as is my wont, but I offer no real solutions. Just the thought that was passed to me from my forefathers (and mothers)--"be better".

Hey, white folks are lazy, too; so this is not a racial thing. Hell, by sheer numbers they are lazier than we are, as function of their being 200 of them for every 38 of us. But this is a pride thing. We used to have the best of everything, even if not immediately apparent to the world at large. We were taught to 'be better', now it's 'do just as good' (the grammar there is for added punch.) *sigh*.

On another note, Dame has done it again! The Ultimate Hustler booted the slacker and the stripper. Lessons from the corporate suite; (1) Do it or don't do it, but never ever do a half assed job, holler at chicks and be the tallest guy in the room. You stand out too much, and (2) complainers never go far, complainers who disrespect the boss- fare even worse, but complainers who disrespect the boss and don't produce--they get the door. Hollering 'I make 6 figures, yada, yada, yada', nobody ever said money equals class. (As an aside, it might not equal happiness either, but dammit, let me find that shit out on my own.)

What's the Difference Between a 4.0 and a 4.6?

Yo, them shits even got leathers?

I need to address a travesty that is occuring again and again in our community. Think of this as a public service announcement of sorts. See, I live in the south, and living in the south--for a confirmed northerner like myself--offers its fair share of culture shock. But, under no circumstances, should it be appropriate to wear a bowler in a club. Unless you are a pimp. (Standard issue I hear.) So to all those dudes in the club, wearing off-the-rack 16 button suits and bowlers, who are not involved in providing crack idled women and broken down strippers to frustrated steelworks on payday; please for the love of God, stop NOW.

Now, on to the question of the day; Corporations--good or bad? This question came to mind after watching 'McLibel' a documentry about some hippies in London who are trying to shut down McDonalds because; (1) the amount of paper covering a hamburger adds to the general litter worldwide; (2) Mcnugget chickens are killed; (3) McDonald's only pays minimum wage; and (4) McDonald's rules stifles workers' creativity. I won't waste time arguing that capitalisim is good and communisim/socialisim is bad, but let's look at number 4, shall we?

McDonald's requires all hamburgers to be made in the exact smae manner. The Hippies argue that this suppression of the individual worker's ideas is inhumane. One question--do I really want a 'create-a-burger' based upon Zeke's idea? Seriously, have you seen McDonald's workforce lately? Out west with all the chicanos, I'm liable to get a Big Pedro, instead of a Big Mac. Down south, deep fried quarter pounder, with extra collard greens. And in London, warm diet coke, unsalted potatoes, and McBlood Pudding. No Thanks.

So, like in the Mclaughlin (probably mispelled-so what?) group; to the question of whether corporations are good or bad--Wrong!--they're good.

By the way, I don't eat fast food, messes with the svelte figure, but dammit, if you want fat on a bun, I'll back you up.

Costs you nothing; Pay me no mind.

So this weekend some Neo-Nazis held a march in Toledo, Ohio. I guess their gripes were the same ones they always are; we hate the negro, we hate the jews more, and ‘where the white women at?’ Old song, heard it all before. The funny thing is that they chose the wrong hood to try that shit, as black folks were ready for them. Or did they?

You realize that we got ‘got’ yet again. The Nazis were out to show the world how truly uncivilized we black folks are, and we fell for it. I know this horse is dead and buried, but when will we learn that we are the only folks in control of our destiny. We got cats running around crying racisim at every turn. And yeah, there is racisim in America, and racists, too. So what? To (sort of) quote Damon Dash, “Ain’t no [racist] gonna tell me I can’t get no money. C’mon, we gonna do what we came out here to do.”

Now in the good folks of Toledo’s defense, they said the same thing, ‘cept they came out there to grab a couple of 65” plasmas and some diapers. Not so good, but you gotta admire their hustle.

Now some of y’all are afraid of white people. Really. Scared to freaking death. In fact, the less contact with white folk y’all have, the more fear and loathing you display. Not a good way to go about getting money, but then that’s just my opinion. But, I grow weary of talking about black people and white people, on to other topics.

I must thank Kajuana for putting me on to Michael Baisden . Hearing 40 and 50 year olds (old) cry about baby-momma drama is the best thing since Martha Stewart’s Apprentice (Gays) and The Ultimate Hustler (Negroes). That sheet rocks. (Pun? Me? Never! I resemble the implication.)

I read a quote in “The Historian” that said, “Bad literature is the world’s most insidious thief of time.” Turns out to be prophetic, because I couldn’t finish that particular piece of bad literature. Nor, can I finish “The Dante Club”, though I am trying. Just bad. Need a new (was going to write good, but figured some smart ass would comment-Read the ‘Good Book’ if you want to read a good book. I have, God squad. And I read the real, KJV, not this new fangled- Good News New International Around-the-way down the block version, where instead of “The Lord sayeth...” or “I am that I am” it reads, “So then God had said...” and “I be who I be”—Didn’t think I get through one post without a digression, didja?)book to read, and am open to suggestions.

Hope all had a good weekend. Tomorrow—Corporations...Good or bad? Ponder and reflect that question, and be prepared to discuss in the morning. Good night and new international good news God bless.

Allow me to re-introduce myself; My name is SON!

After a long deserved rest, I’m back bitches! Thought I forgot about y’all, huh? Nope. I got things to say, dammit.

First off—The Ultimate Hustler! That is my favorite show, if only because it illustrates how ill-prepared most folks are for the real world (though in contrast, most of these cats should have been on the Real World.) How are you going to go to a reception for your perspective employer in a do-rag? I don’t care if it is the silky one that matches your Phat Farm shirt. How are you going to go in a Phat Farm shirt anyway? Nary a soul had on a suit, or even a blazer? Ok, newsflash—it is ok, if not a must, to wear a jacket to a function. Even a ‘Hip-Hop’ function. Trust me, I’ve done it. You stand out, in a good way, and not the 1991 “Strictly Business” (with Halle Berry and the brother who is now a republican shill—oh and Tommy Davidson, too. Where is he now? Fell off like Big Daddy Kane—Wait, BDK is hot again, so I guess he fell off like...well, like Tommy Davidson.) way.
So last week, Dame cut the dude who got drunk at the reception, and the dude who lost his chain. (Conspiracy theorists note—the white girl lost her chain, too; but got to stay. Conspiracy? You decide. BZZZZ. Wrong. No conspiracy, she looked for hers and found it. The Puerto Rican’s is on E-bay right now. He’s a hustler. Ax about him.) This week, Dame cuts the negro who gambled away his watch playing dice. Too funny.

But let’s recap—Getting drunk on duty, losing your chain, and gambling on duty—all signs that you are a ef-up. So far, Dame’s doing pretty darned well. Can’t wait for the first UH fight. You know it’s coming.

Also as an aside, the white kid on the show, let’s call him ‘Token’; doesn’t he remind you of Dave Chappelle’s Real Real World. Great show. As another aside, I must admit that I have also been watching Martha Stewart’s Apprentice. Negroes and Gays always make great reality TV.

Politically, Meiers is a non-entity; Rove is going to get indicted; Delay is going to get off; and hopefully, McCain get the Republican nomination (though I'll vote for Condy cause I have too--or Hillary if McCain doesn't get the nod).

Personally...ahh, you thought I was gonna let something slip. Sheet, I'm a huster homey. Peep the last episode.

That’s it for me. I’m out.