The Remorse Code

On my drive home Friday, I was listening to the radio and heard someone mention that they had been crying all day over the murders of children in Connecticut. At the time that struck me as a bit odd, perhaps melodramatic. I had been in school all day and although the news had given me a heavy, dark feeling, I hadn't yet unpacked its significance. I could see feeling bad for them, but crying? Especially since this feels like the millionth time something like this has happened in the last few years.

When I pulled up to the house, my wife Candice was parked out front, with my daughter Lucy perched quietly in her car seat. Lucy is a doll baby, but she almost didn't seem real she was so serene and peaceful. Later, when Candice was making dinner, she insisted on being carried, even though she's almost two years old and a lot harder to hold than she used to be. At one point Candice put her down and walked away. Lucy ran to her and jumped into her arms. Sitting there watching my daughter, it struck me why the death toll was so high. As deadly as guns are, usually it takes a bit of work to kill a person, unless the assailant has specialized training or high caliber weapons. I hadn't heard much about what the suspect was carrying, but seeing my daughter pumping her little arms and legs to get to her mom, it struck me: those children never had a chance. They were too little to run. They were terrified. And that realization made me cry. Hard.

That's when I think I started to get it. Well, really there's a part that you never really get. You just are left with a bunch of pieces that don't fit. So here's some pieces:

I talk about narratives all the time because the stories we tell about the world and ourselves have a lot to do with the things we do. Usually in situations like this where innocent Americans are killed, we start the war narrative and declare war on someone or something. This would be easy if Al Qaeda had broken into a kindergarten and shot up a bunch of kids. We'd call for scalps hijabs immediately. No Muslims allowed within 100 feet of school. Send those prayer rugs through the x-ray scanner. Or let a Mexican "Illegal" shoot up a preschool. Churros would be removed from the lunch menu and we would secure our schools with 100 ft. border fences. Or God forbid the perpetrator was a brother. One in three Black men might end up in prison. Oh wait, never mind. 

But alas, it's not that easy. Those narratives have next steps that involve building things and bombing people, but this one is tough. What do you build, who do you bomb, to protect you from a white man with a gun and a plan to kill? That's even more tough because so much of our understanding of the concept of "hero" is tied to a white man with a gun and a plan to kill.

It's important to understand that, in the words of Malcolm X, the founding fathers were White nationalists. This country wasn't built for White men to take a back seat to anyone, but things are changing. The most obvious sign occurred in 2008, but the erosion of white power has been coming on for some time now. Believe it or not, there was a time in human history when the white man wasn't running everything. It seems that this era is coming to a close. (Not that the political and economic infrastructure will stop serving the interests of the elite; the packaging will just be darker.) This change makes some people anxious. Many of these individuals choose to soothe their anxiety by buying fire arms.

If you are someone who claims the 2nd amendment will protect you from the tyranny of your government, yet you choose not to vote, you are an idiot. No one has an inalienable right to fire arms, especially those who won't participate in the system of government that secures their rights. Besides, how is a Glock going to protect you from a government that can send a predator drone to your house? A

It's also ironic that government operatives have used the firearms of citizens to murder those who would challenge government tyranny. See: MLKjr, Malcolm X, JFK, RFK, to name a few.

Gun control never goes anywhere because too many people are making money selling them. The advertising for their product is on every TV, movie theater, and game console. Weapons that kill people was a $38 billion industry in 2012. That can buy a lot of political ads.

So, maybe we preserve the right to bear arms, but eliminate the right for corporations to make millions producing guns that cause so much misery. Like Chris Rock said, if you really want to stop gun violence, make a bullet cost $10,000.

If the President does take gun control on, he's going to have to push back his whole agenda. Disarming this white man is going to be a tall order. They're not giving up their guns. And it wouldn't be a stretch to say that pushing tougher gun laws would make the President more of a target. Justin Beiber ain't even safe these days. Honestly, I fear for NeO. 

Talk about product placement

But I think he has to take it on. Half measures aren't going to work here. No more commissions or investigations or studies. After 9-11, we signed away half of our civil liberties--you know rights guaranteed by the Constitution? People grumbled but didn't say much out of fear of being called unpatriotic. But why is this right untouchable? I'd rather give up my gun then allow the government to tap my phone calls without a warrant.

And I know that the easiest win will be to eliminate the access to high-caliber semi-automatics, but that's not what's killing the kids around my way. NeO mentioned kids in Chicago who were victims of gun violence, but our children are being wiped out by small handguns that are cheap and powerful. If you can't get people to give up their guns, you've got to find a way to make it more expensive to get them.

An Urgent Appeal to President Obama

I know the President is setting himself an ambitious agenda following his defeat of Mitt Romney last month, but there is one question that it's in all of our interests that he answer: Does he plan to forget about all of the white men he's slapped over the past four years? Who will look after their welfare (so to speak)? 

Ever since 2008, he's been doing it. I mean for real, just putting guys to shame that were supposed to be real dudes. If our President doesn't watch it, he might have an epidemic of white men who have been publicly pimp-slapped by a black man. I'm not saying that it's wrong to slap a white man in public, but you've got to be careful with the consequences. 

I'm looking for America's Next Top Model

We, as a world community, need to figure out what we're going to do with all of these disgruntled white men. If the 20th century was about solving the Negro question, the 21st will be about solving the Crakasskracker question. Many of these troubled individuals have guns. They are just now realizing that the White Supremacy is not an ideology suited to the present reality. In other words, we don't believe you, you need more people.

That's a heavy blow for a lot of folks. The President could show some leadership on this issue by providing services to a few of the high profile white men he has emasculated in the past. 

Final Five or not, you gotsta chill

John McCain: Remember how Neo had him staggering around stage? McCain was a war hero who sold his medals to the Bush crowd and never got them back. He would have been a more formidable contender if he hadn't placated to the Republican establishment. He knows the toll war can take on a human being. Instead of thinking about the soldiers first, the people he relies on are more interested in war as an economic tool. One could argue that it always is, but McCain bangs the war drums a little too quickly on just about anything these days. He shouldn't have anything to prove, but you get the feeling that he still has never gotten over losing to a Black man. Maybe some kind of 12 step recovery program. Step #1: Forgive yourself. Please. 

I still got my binders

Mitt Romney: He would be a good Willy Lowman if he wasn't so damn rich. The election brought to mind the Jordan Sick game. NeO holding his guts, but bussin threes every time down the court. In the second debate he made Mitt Romney his Byron Russell. Romney got thirsty when the Bhengazi thing came up. He, like Byron Russell, thought to himself "I finally got him!"  
Proceed Governor, NeO said. Drive right, followed by a cross back to the left hand, and finally a nice pull up with perfect form for the game. Next thing you know, the debate moderator had to step in and tell him how bad he got faked. I actually don't think Mitt Romney is going to need all of that help. He has little to know respect for most of the voting population and convinced himself that people on welfare cost him the election. His self-delusion is supported with enough cash that he'll pull through. Maybe just have him try that Cory Booker Welfare Week diet.

It was like right, left, right

Jim DeMint, now known as Ji'Mint: So remember when ole boy was talking about it's going to be NeO's Waterloo? Made me have to look up Waterloo on Wikipedia and everything. Ji'Mint said he was going to break the president. It must have felt so good to stand in front of those cameras and talk all that trash.  Kind of like Joe Wilson standing with a room full of White men calling the Black president a liar.

**Ed. Note: That actually happened. It actually did** 

But now we get word that Ji'Mint is quitting the senate. He's taking a think tank job. Now, he's going to clean up on the financial end, but if you had to choose one person who did not get "broken" in the exchange with NeO, it seems a fair point to say it's probably the dude who still has his job.
 When Ji'Mint comes back around the block and tells everybody about the fight he was bragging he would win, you know people are going to ask how he won with two black eyes.
Maybe we could just arrange for someone to go by the house and check in with him every now and then. I do, however, take it as a good sign he's trying to get a brother to be appointed to his spot. I don't know much about the brother, but I assume they have him on a short leash. That shows Ji'Mint is thinking beyond his whiteness.That's encouraging.

Naw, girl. Don't worry. I got you.

Chris Cristie: I wouldn't call this an emasculation, necessarily. More like CC cut his deal after the storm hit and went with the hug instead of the coming lipbustment the Republican were about to get. Dude is sharp though. He's one of the few people I've seen make John Stewart start grasping at straws. CC just needs to keep getting invited to the house. Keep him on the payroll and everything will be alright.





Donald Trump: There was a point where I actually felt bad for Donald Trump. Not only did the President go all Hot Sauce on him at the White House Correspondents dinner. Obama:

He petty for that, Mr. Trump. Petttty.

“All kidding aside, we all know about your credentials and experience. On Celebrity Apprentice the men’s cooking team did not impress the judges from Omaha steaks, but you recognized that this was a lack of leadership, so you fired Gary Busey. These are the kinds of decisions that would keep me up at night. Well-handled, sir. Well-handled.”

Sitting there fuming, it must have just sounded to Trump like one joke told over and over again: what did the five fingers say to the face?And to top it all off, the next day dude is killing Bin Laden. Talk about dissed and dismissed. In this case I don't think it's going to be so bad. As long as there's a camera around, Mr. Trump is going to be able to blow himself back up. I'm not sure how severe the case is right now, but I would suggest some kind of invasive treatment with Arsenio Hall. Maybe they have to hang out together and do a reality television show. Call it The Big Buck and The Big Bucks.

John Boehner: Leave John John alone. You know he's quick to tears. It's bad enough that Pelosi done smacked up side the head and Barbara Bush went in on him. Now you going to punk him about the fiscal cliff? You know that ain't right. And Maybe just no more jokes about the tan. That's probably not helping.


 In a post pimp slap world, we need to have the resources at our disposal to make sure that these White men aren't left to their own devices. We must bring them back into the fold. For everyone's sake.

There ain't nothing about whitey in here.

On Richard Pryor's birthday:

Misstra Unplugged

In the end, it was my worldstarthiphop consumption that made me realize I had a problem. For those not familiar with the website, it's about the worst thing to happen to the image of Black people in American culture since Homeboys in Outer Space. There are hundreds, thousands of videos of Black people actin ignant. Fights outside of chicken shacks (nay, in chicken shacks!), weaves being seized like dandelion stems, every video seems to end with one Black man in victorious ecstasy while the other Black man (the recipient of violence) in a near paralyzed state. A quitter, is what they call it. The settings change, but not the power these videos hold over me.

I'm not sure how I started being a worldstarfiend, but I noticed that it kept creeping into rotation of websites I checked before I went to bed. Huffpost, talkingpoints, espn, cnnsi. Then worldstar. They started me off with highlights of Blake Griffin yamming on people. (I'm a sucker for Bright Boys who slam like this.)

I'm just about to log off and then the link listed most popular catches my eye. Usually the title is something like, My nigga knocked this nigga out, bleve dat!! In weaker moments, I can't resist. I click and the show begins.

Two bodies jerk at each other, feinting and striking. Back and forth. A misstep, a nervous hesitation, and then one person bashes the head of their opponent. Said opponent submits to the fist of Morpheus and lays prone on the sidewalk, or classroom, or shag carpet.

The clip usually end with an exhilarating shout from the cameraman about how many hits the footage will earn him on worldstar. If he's not too caught up in the moment, the narrator might plug the relevant social media where you can "follow" him. I'm doing big things this year, he assures us.  

But what happens after the violence? Most clips end quickly after the decisive blow. Some allow you to see  the even more brutal scenes that follow someone knocked unconscious. And for some reason you're not really supposed to think about that.

The girl on your screen who gets her hair pulled out and her head bashed against a desk, has no idea that that one of the worst moments of her life will be seen by hundreds of thousands of people. People who will laugh and watch it over and over again, posting comments about how funny it is. And who knows what happened to her? What's happening to her? What's happening to all of these people who are being brutalized on our computer screens for our entertainment?

In that way it has a lot in common with pornography, which is the unspoken engine of the Internet. You don't have to be a psychiatrist to infer that that a large number of people who end up doing pornographic videos are doing so for financial reasons. They're in an machine fueled by the consumption human bodies. The engine goes through thousands a day, so they'll need a thousand more tomorrow. And they will find them, somewhere. And worldstar will find more. People will head to the streets to do battle so they can live for a few flashes on a legion of computer screens.

I would like to be able to say I took a principled stand against technological dehumanization, but my reaction to worldstar also had a more practical reason: watching people act crazy made me think crazy. I noticed that it invaded my psychic space as my brain began to drown in muck. It made me not even want to write.

So this summer I quit, mostly. I Limited my email, reduced my Facebook, and cold turkeyed my worldstar habit. With the extra time I wrote a bunch, read more, and spent time with Missus and Baby Knowitall.  
 
And I didn't stop at worldstar. I realized that espn, talkingpointsmemo, chicagotribune, huffington post, and cnnsi would have to go by the wayside. They were all different in the flavor of information they were giving, but all of them encouraged continued use. All discouraged presence. 

After a couple of weeks, life wasn't that much different. I was actually happy when I wasn't following updates all day. I didn't feel the constant need to log on.

The time with my two ladies made me more aware of how little time we really have. Actually we have no time. The only thing we have is this moment that we're in. That just passed. And passed again. If you're not present, than your wasting my time became my mantra (no Ekhart Tolle).

My biggest help in staying present is my daughter. She's the most present person I know. She cries a storm when I try to put a hat on her, and then a dog passes by and she laughs and claps. We're walking to the corner store together, but really she's not walking somewhere, just walking, enjoying how it feels to stomp the concrete with her pink sneakers. One foot and then the other. Relentlessly present. My hero.

Baby Knowitall

This past week was the first time I've spent significant time away from Baby Knowitall. My wife warned me that I was going to miss her, but I wasn't prepared for the sadness. Happily, Baby and Wifey came back on Saturday. Now, when I see James Brown and his daughter Deanna performing (outfits match!) I don't have to act like I got something in my eye. Sniff.

BTW: I've seen Baby Knowitall exhibit those same  moves to an equally funky cut: Mary Had a Little Lamb.

The Prettiest Pieces

Glint Literary Magazine just published my story, The Prettiest Pieces, in their Spring 2012 issue. Props to Brenda Hammack for giving the story a home!

I've been carrying that piece around for awhile. With the advent of the Internets, where kids can have access to every type of deviant image their little hearts could ever be taught to desire, it's almost quaint to talk about dirty magazines stowed under bed frames. But I had a friend (not me, for real) whose mother caught him with some porn and she reacted in an unexpected way.

It's hard to nail down what any story is "about," but I'm most interested in the changes mothers and sons go through once a boy becomes a young man and that messy stew of race, sex, and gender identity starts to coalesce. I also liked it because I got the 80s pop culture hat trick of Lisa Bonet, ThunderCats, and Coming to America in one story. Awesome!

Black Zombies, you're not helping

Don't you know that you're lowering the public opinion polls of all of us Black males with your antics? Because of your actions in  Florida and Maryland, it is that much harder for a Black man to get a job today. Now when I apply for a position I have to not only prove that I won't steal or be lazy, now I got to prove that I don't enjoy the taste of human flesh.

I appreciate the pioneering spirit, but the old serial killer paradigm was a helpful reverse indictment of White guys. You know: Well, brothers may have their problems, but at least we're not trying to kill somebody and eat them. But now you're eroding the power of our Dahmer card. Not cool.

Before you took those bath salt bong hits, did you stop to think that this is an election year? If our dear President Obama is going to co-sign that brand new Reparation Edition Chrysler 300 in his second term, we can't be messing up his credit by letting the car get repoed because we missed payments. It was bad enough that he was just joking about eating dogs.

Be the brains you seek

Please put a pause on the flesh eating until after the election.  And by the way, who smokes bath salts anyway? What distinguishes a "good" bath salt high from a "bad" bath salt high? And if crawling around naked while eating another man's face off is a "bad" high, doesn't that raise the bar substantially for what a "good" high is like?

Get it together, Black Zombies. Please don't let your people, or your president, down.

 BTW: And speaking of brothers with an insatiable appetite for flesh, this guy ain't helping either.

Dear Chipotle

Chiptole, I've been seeing you for quite some time now. Moving to Minnesota, there was a stretch of years where I couldn't find a decent burrito. And you were there for me. You even knew how to make guacamole that didn't taste like green mayonnaise.

Unlike a lot of other fast food places, you were out front with your kitchen, so I could see how the food was prepared. I appreciated that. However, in an earlier post I did notice how strange it was that all the people who seemed to be cooking in the back had the pigment of a pinto bean, while the folks closest to the register had a tortilla tint. In other words, Latinos cooking, white folks running the money. This was the case in California, Minnesota, Maryland, Indiana, and Illinois.

Most other restaurants try to keep their immigrant labor a secret, but y'all was out with it. It gave the food authenticity, a certain panache, a certain elan, a certain gene se qua. Similar to what you might experience being served egg rolls by Asians at Panda Express or crackers by Crackers at Cracker Barrel.

But now the feds are investigating. Why, God, why?

She's a Dancing Machine

Damita Jo Freeman was a legendary Soul Train dancer in the 70s. Dancers on the show usually didn't dance with the performers, but James Brown liked the way she grooved so much that he bypassed Don Cornelius and asked the young lady directly to perform while he sang "Super Bad." Two minutes and thirty three seconds of pure awesomeness was the result.

Yeah, that's Damita doing doing the robot in 1970, which may be the first time the dance was ever televised. (Michael didn't debut Dancing Machine until three years later. Yeah, I'll wait while you look.) James Brown is watching like he doesn't know what the hell he's looking at, but there's no mistaking the respect.
 
Same thing happened with Joe Tex, when he sang "I Gotcha" on Soul Train. (If you've never heard the song, then prepare yourself for some seriously ignant mysogifunk. Key lyrics: You promised me when you left your boyfriend/I'd be the next one to ease on in and Give me what you promised, now give it here. )

As you can see, the dynamic is different because Joe felt the need to "participate" a bit more as a dancer, despite the fact that Damita folds him up and places him gently to the left.

Looking at these two performances it's interesting because both songs are about power. One is a man estimating his own power by his Soul level. Sometimes I feel so nice, Good God, I want to jump back and kiss myself. The other is about a man taking possession of a woman's body with a Shylock-like glee. You made me a promise and you're going to stick to it. 

 James Brown can watch Damita embody his song without feeling threatened. Joe Tex has to reaffirm his Gotchaness by finally pulling a bunch of female dancers on stage to dilute Damita's power.

Didn't work, of course. Rarely does.

Sunny

Happy B-Day, Godfather.