It Was All A Dream

August 28, 1963. On this day, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered what is widely considered the greatest speech of the 20th century. While the March for Jobs and Freedom had many eloquent and poignant speakers that day, Dr. King’s speech effectively encapsulated the heartbeat of an entire people and still resonates with pertinence today.

This past weekend was the 47th anniversary of that wonderful event, and it made me think.

Talking head, Glenn Beck, decided to hold a rally at the Lincoln Memorial, the same place Dr. King delivered his speech, forty-seven years to the day. Coincidence? I think not. I'm not going to give a lot of time to that, but it's funny that he was hosting a "Restoring Honor" rally. This is the same man who called President Obama a racist and Muslim. (Not that anything is wrong with being a Muslim). During Beck's event, Rev. Al Sharpton and others organized an extremely less attended event designed to protest the other and actually commemorate the legacy of Dr. King's speech.

And back to that speech. I personally love that speech. Whether you hear it or read it, it is an amazing peace of literature. The "I have a dream" portion was apparently improvised in the same Southern minister style that my grandfather uses, but the sections that were written rival anything put to paper.

Sidenote: Why do many preachers sound like they have asthma or some other upper-respiratory infection when they are delivering their sermon? I've always wondered that. That's why I never wanted to be a preacher. It sounds too painful.

His use of metaphor and imagery. The pictures of pain and persistence he painted. His use of allusion to everything from the Bible to Shakespeare to Greek philosophers flowed effortlessly.

My favorite section of that speech, while it is hard to choose just one, is below:

"In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men - yes, black men as well as white men - would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked 'insufficient funds.'"

I put it red because it's just that FIRE!!! Is this from 1963 or did someone just write this today?

The ability to take an embarrassing situation like getting NSF notice (I know all about it) and relating it to the failure of the government to honor it's own promises is evidence of true genius. Read it over a few times. It might lose you'll catch on.

Many of today's politicians hardly put their own pens to paper for the speeches they present. Same goes for many musical artists, even rappers. That's a shame. To be a rapper and have a ghostwriter is despicable. But...if you're a rapper and you need a little assistance, holla at your boy! The pen is deadly!

And another thing about MLK. Is it just me or was he one of the coolest dudes to ever walk the face of this planet? You never saw him rattled or shook. The cadence and tone of his voice made Billy Dee Williams jealous. Even in his mugshot, he looked as if he was ready to walk into a nice little jazz club or family restaurant or an alleged rendezvous. Now compare that to James Brown's mugshot.

One day, I hope to be half as eloquent, a quarter as cool, and have a fraction of the impact of Dr. King. That's my dream.

This Might Make Me Hurt Somebody and other Musical Musings

One of my closest friends, MG, is an attorney. He and I have joked about the possibility of me needing him to use his BAR card some day to come get me out of jail. Now, I am not a violent person. In fact, besides all of the daily rumbles in middles school, my fried-chicken incited dorm brawl in college, and the few post-university coming to the aid of friends fracases, I’ve rarely had to resort to violence. There have been times that I thought I might have to though.

1. The time the guy in the gym said to me, “I like the way you move,” while I was in midair working on my abs.
2. The time another guy in the gym butted into my conversation and called me a liar. Two major mistakes in the Darius Book of…well, just Darius’ book.
3. When I guy at my job confronted me about some nonsense at work as if the school bell just rang and he heard that I was talking about his mama. That one was close.

Fortunately, it has not gotten to that point…yet.

I think I may need his assistance very soon, though. I’ve been trying to fight it. I’ve prayed about it. I’ve meditated. Focused my energy in the gym. Gotten my green tea and honey on. Nothing’s worked. I’m gonna snap and it’s not gonna be pretty.

The next time I hear someone, especially a grown ass person, singing “This right here is my swag,” I am going off Mel Gibson-style.

If you don’t know, that is a lyric from Pretty Boy Swag, the latest offering from the lyrical genius better known as Soulja Boy Tell’em. First of all, I’ve always wanted to know who told him that a dependent clause without any punctuation makes a good rap name. But I digress.
People have varying musical tastes, I get that. Some prefer Luther Vandross to Marvin Gaye; some prefer Dean Martin to Frank Sinatra. Even you may favor Coldplay to Maroon 5. All of those are understandable. There are some things in my musical collection that others may question: the Carpenters and Eazy-E are in heavy rotation. But there has to be a line.

You may need to take a Calculus class or go read Macbeth after this, but here is a sample of the brilliant lyrics:

Get out the way
Pretty boy comin' thru
Me and my crew we swaggin in the room
Girls on me heavy 'cause I look so sexy
Yellow diamond shawty in the club straight flexin
I'm lookin' for a yellow bone long haired star
Thick in the hips come and get in my car
You party with a star we take off and go to mars
Pretty boy take off in 5.4.3.2.1

I sincerely apologize.

When I was a teenager, music was much different. Yeah, there were a lot of songs without much lyrical content. No one ever accused Luke of being Smokey Robinson, or Biggie for that matter. But there was a lot of good stuff out there.

If you need an example of that good stuff, check this out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agnKPLrG2E0

Nothing like a little Kool Moe Dee to restart your brain.

So, when the bureaucrats start barking about low test scores of American students and how they don’t stack up to their counterparts across the world, there is only one person on the face of the planet to blame: Mr. Pretty Boy Swag.

When I first heard the song, I thought it was one of those parodies that the morning shows do. So, I laughed. But when I found out that it was a “real” song, I laughed even harder. But when I heard the remix that features Gucci Mane, the laughter stopped. I immediately put Nirvana into my CD deck and drank some Pennyroyal Tea.

So, back to my future arrest.

You know how some songs that you hate begin to seep into your subconscious without you knowing? This song has somehow found its way into my brain and I want to dig it out!
If this blog happens to have no posts for 3-5 years, then you know that someone must have been getting’ their swag on and I snapped like a woman who gave up her successful career for her husband who later on cheated on her with her hairstylist and the gardener.

Oh, and one more thing.

We’ve had LBJ and JFK; how about KMD for president? Kool Moe Dee. I’m just saying. He goes to work!

NIG*A What?

As much as I don’t want to, let’s talk about Dr. Laura Schlessinger and her recent racially-charged tirade. If you haven’t heard, a black listener called into her nationally-syndicated talk show seeking advice on how to deal with the racist comments that some of her white husband’s friends used around and towards her. The esteemed “doctor” basically told the woman to stop being so sensitive because all the black comics on HBO use the N-word.

*Okay, for the sake artistic integrity, I will no longer use “the N-word”.

What she really said was that if you turn on HBO you hear all the black comics screaming, “Nigger, nigger, nigger.” Yeah, she said it. She didn’t say the N-word; she said nigger. When the caller expressed her shock and discomfort, the good doctor spewed the word about eight more times and intimated that because of her hyper-sensitivity, maybe she shouldn’t have married outside her race.

Hmmm…so many questions.
1) Why the hell was this woman calling Dr. Laura for advice of that nature? Does she not have any friends or family members that she can talk to about this?
2) What’s up with her husband? According to her, he just allows this sort of conversation to take place. Why are his friends so comfortable saying it in front of him? He must use the same language when she’s not around.
3) Why are we surprised that someone white says the word nigger? Come on, now. Is it really that shocking? Kramer said it!
4) And I guess the biggest question is: Is it really that big of a deal? This whole controversy has rekindled the vaunted “N-word” debate, and has everyone from Uncle Al Sharpton to the NAACP calling for her head.

Depending on who you ask, you’ll get a myriad of different response to that question.
Some people believe that the word carries such a history of degradation and belittlement that any use of the word should be stricken from the English lexicon. Others believe that by owning the word, this generation has grasped the power from the oppressors and has erased any pain it can cause. And still others could care less about any historical context and probably don’t know what the words ‘historical’ or ‘context’ mean.

You also have the nigger versus nigga conundrum.

My personal definitions:

Nigger: a derogatory term used to describe people of African descent. Usually used by racist or prejudiced persons, i.e. KKK, Guys driving monster trucks, or idiots commenting on YouTube videos.
Nigga/nigguh: 1) a term of endearment used primarily by blacks (in some case Hispanics) to each other. 2) a term that can be found an average of 12,419 times on each Rap/Hip-Hop CD.

I have been called variations of the word countless times in my life, sometimes by those I love and sometimes by those not so affectionate. When I was around six, my family and I were fishing from a bridge in a rather affluent neighborhood. Some guys pulled up behind me, pelted me eggs, and shouted “nigger go home!”

Recently, a childhood friend I hadn’t seen in a while greeted me with a hug and a “my nigga!”

Totally different circumstances but I completely understood what each one was. I’m sure the guys throwing eggs at me weren’t doing so out of love, and I know my boy from back in the day isn’t going to lynch me anytime soon.

It’s pretty easy to tell the difference.

At one time, the NAACP held a ceremonial funeral for the Nigger. In the light of Dr. Laura’s comments, a politician in Hawaii wants to add a bill that outlaws the word. I think these are complete wastes of time. If anything needs to be exterminated, it’s the mentality of inferiority that some carry with that word. No word can encompass the complexity of a people, so STOP letting this one define you.

The funny thing is that an art form that was created by black people has played an enormous part in how “we” view the word. It is used so freely in hip-hop that you would think it is the first name of choice in the black community. “I want you to meet my son, MyNig’a Jefferson.”

I recall, in my college days, being out with some friends of the lighter complexion. I would always laugh when the DJ played a song that my friends new. They would be rapping every word of the song until there was a nigger lurking in the lyrics to come. When that nigger approached, they would take a sip of their Goldschlager, suddenly forget the words, or just look at me and do some crazy thing with their heads.

“Ain’t nuthin but a G-thang baaaabay! Two loc’ed out [insert inaudible grunt or spastic head wiggle here] going craaaaazay!”

Did I think that they would have simply said it if I wasn’t around? Yes.
Did I think that made them racist? Not at all.

My biggest question is: Why do white people want to say "nigger" so badly?

The argument that is often heard, and that was used by Schlessinger, is that it’s so confusing when black people use it and don’t want non-blacks to use it. “You can’t have it both ways,” they shout. They seem so offended and heartbroken about not being able to use the word…in public. Yes, in public. I’m a firm believer that under the right circumstances, your best buddy at work drops an N-bomb with his friends ,when his favorite Lil’ Wayne or Young Jeezy song comes on, or if a black guy cuts them off in traffic.

Why isn’t there a clamoring by blacks for the right to denigrate Hispanics or Jews? Or since I hear some women referring to each other as bitches, should I not be allowed to the same?
Think about it.

And sure; there is a double-standard. Even if it is being said out of affection, there is just something wrong with a non-black person saying it. That's just life. I have a nickname that only my family calls me. I ask them not to refer to me by the name in mixed company. And if someone outside my circle hears the name and feels it’s cool to say it, I quickly correct them. They don’t throw a fit and protest. They accept it, call me Darius, and move on.

Question for you: How many times have you, yes even you, the most liberal, loving, all-accepting, Buddhist philosophy following, We Are the World singing person out there, how many times have you blurted a racially, ethnically, sexually, or socially offensive term in a moment of rage or fear?

I’m just asking.

Daddy Dearest!

If you haven’t heard yet, the daughter of acclaimed stage, film, and television actor Laurence Fishburne is now a porn star. Yep, that’s right. I wonder what the black light he uses on CSI would find on that set. Montana “Chippy-D” Fishburne feels that the best way for her to attain stardom is to use the Kim Kardashian model of fame.

I can imagine Dr. Larabee from Akeelah and the Bee saying, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is popping in a DVD and seeing your baby girl being double-penetrated.” Okay, I’ll stop. But I have a million of ‘em. I have one about Ike Turner and “eating the cake” and a few more about Morpheus and red and blue pills. But I digress.

Unlike Kardashian, though, this isn’t an “oops, my sex-tape was intentionally released by mistake” moment. Little Morpheus signed up for this. There was lighting, multiple cameras, and probably some Danishes and orange juice to keep the energy levels up.

Listen, I’m not knocking the porn industry. If I think back, I may recall seeing a snippet or two of some adult film long ago, during my immature stage. If you are a stable-minded adult, then who am I to say that you shouldn’t get paid for faking orgasms? But I’m sure Heather Hunter, Jenna Jameson, and Ron Jeremy aren’t looking for an Academy Award anytime soon.

This whole situation got me thinking hard; no pun intended. How does a 19-year old daughter of a famous, wealthy actor decide to become a porn star? There must be a lot of things going on for her to come to this point. Yeah, she’s still young, so ignorance is probably the biggest factor. Hell, at 19, I was a sophomore in college. Nuff said.

But what is the mindset of someone who aspires to be a porn star? Well, it’s not too hard to imagine a guy wanting to have sex with as many women as they possibly can, but most women are different. And I don’t have the statistics of everyone in the industry, but I’m sure you’d be hard pressed to find a “performer” with an Oscar-nominated and Tony and Emmy-award winning father.

There’s a clip of her sitting in a restaurant with her producer/director/co-star, Brian Pumper, who I incidentally met once, at a Denny’s in L.A. During the interview, she didn’t say much, but when she did, she seemed aloof and very much a confused, teenage girl. I couldn’t help but wonder if she even realized where she was. She talked about being nervous as a “first-timer” but eased by the fact that she has “a lot of at home experience.”

So, my question is this: Who/What is to blame?
Do we blame the parents’ divorce when she was yet a toddler?
Do we blame Larry’s lifestyle that may have led him to be an absent father?
Do we blame the parasitic media that turns the star of a home video with a below average R & B singer that everyone had forgotten about, into an international celebrity?

As a teenager, she’s seen Kim Kardashian become a star, an elderly man living in a house with three girlfriends, and Karrine “Superhead” Steffans write multiple New York Times best-selling books detailing how she got her name. So, of course SEX=STARDOM. Damn, why the hell am I writing this blog, then?

How do parents fight against this bombardment of negativity?

My granddad would say, “The Bible says, train up a child in the way he should go, even when he is old, he will not depart from it.”

I would say, “Grandaddy, they didn’t have Facebook and Jersey Shore back in Jesus’ day.”

So, what’ the moral of this story? Don’t allow your kids to watch TV or go on the Internet or they may end up in movies on the shelves of stores with dark windows.

Just a couple of decades ago, parents didn’t want their kids to be Hippies. Then, they were afraid they might become “artists” and not have real jobs and stable incomes. I’m sure the Fishburne family would love for Montana to be a tie-dyed aspiring sculptor.

I guess Montana was right, though. No one knew her before this, now she has a name: Chippy-D. I’m sure her reality show is already in the works. I say have her compete with Paris Hilton and New York for Flavor Flav’s affection. Flavor of Love: Coast 2 Coast, Booooyyyyy!!!

But if she insists on continuing her career and needs names for future films, there is a place called Flathead Valley, Montana. I’m just saying.

Okay, one last one. The Matrix: ReBootied.

I’m done.

Anti-Social Media

What can add more sunshine to your day than finding out that a marginal friend of yours that you haven’t seen since high school is “eating seafood gumbo”? How about reading that someone you know is “watching Boomerang-loooove this movie”? That just sends tingles down your spine, doesn’t it?

Well, thanks to Mark Zuckerburg and his Harvard homies, you now have the ability to exchange countless volumes of otherwise inane and mundane information for FREE.

Initially designed as a way for college students to communicate and know a little more about one another, Facebook has exploded into an international phenomenon. But why?

Whatever happened to the wise old adage “Don’t put your business in the streets”? Hell. Not only is everyone’s business in the streets, but it is on the Information SuperHighway doing 150 with no brakes.

Maybe I’m just a private person, but I don’t feel the need to tell the world about every meal or subsequent bowel movement. Other than announcing my blogs, I think I’ve posted fewer than five status updates. But that’s just me.

I’m just not sure what exactly compels otherwise sane human beings to spend countless hours uploading pictures of their sister’s C-section or debating for hours about the best Baldwin brother or which Sex & The City character they are most alike. I’m a little Miranda mixed with a dash of Samantha.

I understand if you’re a model or actress or whack-ass rapper trying to promote yourself. Then, Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, YouTube or whatever other outlet you can find makes sense. But for the average Joe or Joanne…come on!

How much time is actually spent on Facebook, when we could be doing things like…living? How many books could you have read during your FB time? How many classes could you have taken? The gym? A yoga class? Museum, anyone? Time with FAMILY? Naa, none of those things are important. You have to let everyone know that you Like The Flinstones and that you are "Thinking of that someone special smiley–face smiley-face you know who you are wink."

I do understand that this social media phenomenon is a great way to keep up with friends. Hell, I joined Facebook about a year ago at the behest of a few of my friends that I play eternal games of phone tag with. And on occasion, I’ll browse through a friend’s vacation pics or snapshots of their kids and think how blessed they are to have children and how blessed I am not to have any. However, I would be okay if they suddenly banned Facebook from the Internet. I would just go back to thinking, I wonder how old what’s his name is doing.

When I joined Facebook, a friend of mine commented that she thought I was too cool to be a part of it all. I guess I’m not as cool as she or I thought. I’m still a helluva lot cooler than many of the folks on FB. And if you ever catch me on Twitter, then you can stab me with a flash drive.

For all of you Facebook junkies out there, there is hope. It’s called GET A HOBBY. You could be the next great novelist of our generation. But if you spend all of your time cyber-stalking your ex or baking cakes in Café World, you may be depriving the world of your great gifts. And that's just sad.