Friday, February 29, 2008
-One Man's Opinion. Peace.
Hell, I have a dream too, but that bitch has been deferred since high school. Audacity of Hope my ass. Oh, was I still typing....?
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Senator Obama was scheduled to speak at 4:45, but they would open the doors to the school at 2:45 and no telling when the lines actually started the form. Since the door was scheduled to open at 2:45 I had to have my ass out of bed and ready to drive make the drive into Duncanville by at least two. I hate, despise, waiting in lines, so I was there at 2:45 thinking that I would still have to wait in line, but maybe not that long (did I mention that from 2 to 5 is my nap time? So, since I didn’t get my nap I was already old man cranky).
My friend calls me and tells me to park in the front of the school, but by the time I get there the only place to park is in a fire lane. I see other cars parked there, but I think they are just there to pick up their kids, but I park there anyway. So begins the first trail of Obama, because if my car got towed he could forget my vote. Anyway, after parking in the front I then had to make the three block trek around the school, towards the back, in order to get in line. During this trek I am bombarded with flyers and vendor hocking their wares; Obama t-shirts, face towels, buttons, mugs and g-strings. I bought one G-string and continued the search for my friend. C’mon, who doesn’t want Obama’s smiling face beaming from their crotch? (LOL)
I finally find my buddy, in the far back of a never ending line and collect my white ticket. Apparently there were two types of tickets, blue and white, the white was considered preferred sitting, which only meant that if you were in possession of one you were guaranteed a seat inside, for the rally. Now, considering the length of the line we were in and our position in said line I was wondering just how they were going to hold true to that promise. As it turned out, once they actually started to let folks into the building, they sent people along the line to tell white ticket holder that they could move ahead of the pack. Cool. So, as we are walking past the long line of people with blue tickets my blackness sets in and I realize that maybe I can make a quick ten bucks and scalp my ticket to one of the blue ticket holders. (I was trying to recoup some of my gas money, don’t you know). But I didn’t do it. After all, I had come this far.
We go through the metal detector and I get wanded down; for what reason. I have no idea. I didn’t bring my gun, although I would have been well in my rights to, but that was one battle I didn’t feel like fighting. Once pass the detectors it was inside of the building, up the stairs, into the auditorium, where we were herded to our hard metal, bench seats. We initially set in a pretty good spot, except for the fact that we were right in front of a big, ass speaker; playing some off the lamest, loudest, rally music I have ever heard. We endured this deafening music for about an hour or so, before my good friend got up to see if he could grab us some better seats. He is gone for less than a minute before I get a phone call on my cell. It is him, telling me he is over to my left, closer to the podium and there is a seat for me. So, I gather up my belonging, I brought comic books to read while I waited, and move over to our new position. Okay, how come our new position is where all the photographers are and I feel like I will be constantly jockeying for a look at Obama? Oh well, whatever.
Okay, now it is 4:45 and still no Barack. Now I am just gonna be real with you. I don’t have the best patience in the world. I hate to wait. I’m one of those people who get pissed when people take forever to decide what they want at fast food places. I go to church, listen to the sermon and get mad when the pastor says he is about to bring his sermon to an end and yet keeps on talking for another thirty frigging minutes. Yeah, I can’t tell you how many blessing I’ve lost mentally cussing the pastor and telling him to shut the hell up. Anyway, so the good Senator is quickly losing Brownie points as well as my support; because by now my ass is sore and flattened out by the bleachers, there is no concession stand in sight and not once have they played a song from his Grammy winning album. The term CPT is running through my head. Now, if you don’t know what CPT is you might not ought to be reading this blog, which was spawned from the pits of the ghetto.
Oh, and did I tell you about the sorry ass women they had out there to pump up the crowd. I didn’t even know people did the wave at political rallies. My favorite part was when they had one side of the room yell Barack and the other side would echo Obama. I had never wanted to yell Hillary so badly in my life, but I didn’t want to catch a beat down.
Finally, at lawd knows when, Obama comes out and the crowd goes wild. He hugs some of the VIPs sitting on the stadium floor and then goes up to the lector to make his speech. I will say, the man is a dynamic speaker and very charismatic. If he were to become president of the United States I think I would actually listen to him as he addressed the nation. He spoke about all of the things he was going to do, if he was president and I must admit that I liked what he had to say. I didn’t agree with all of it, but for the most part he had won me back over. I was feeling the love. I had the audacity of hope. Hell, if he manages to do half of the things on his agenda then we are all good. After he spoke he opened the floor up for questions. I stayed up till the last question was being asked and then I made a bee line towards the exits. I did not want to fight the traffic of people trying to get out of that joint.
Okay, now come the final trial of Obama. The thing that would determine if he won or lost my vote. I walk back towards the front of the school, turn the corner and there it is. MY CAR. It had not been towed away. Thank you, Obama. You might just get my vote after all. Although, I still like the name Mitt. I mean, who names their child after a glove?
-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Okay, I’ll admit it. I did not watch the network television premiere of A Raisin in the Sun, Starring Rap Mogul Sean “Puffy” “P-Diddy” Combs, but in my defense I work nights and had my ass in bed. Besides, who wants to see a three hour movie about black folks picking grapes, placing them in the sun and waiting for them to turn into raisins? That shit ain’t realistic! I know we Picked cotton (and possibly peanuts), back in the day, but I never heard of us harvesting no grapes to make raisins.
No, no….I is just kidding. I don’t want yall thinking I’m all ig’nat and stuff. Actually I felt so bad about missing A Raisin in the Sun that I decided to do some research on it. The play was written by Lorraine Hansberry (which I knew), but what I did not know was that in made its debut, on Broadway no less, in 1959. Ms. Hansberry was the first black woman play write to have a play produced on Broadway. Not only that, but the play’s director, Lloyd Richards, was the first black director on Broadway... I know it seems like Oprah was the first but plenty of black folks did things before her ass.
In the same year in which it debuted, A Raisin in the Sun, was named the best play of 1959 by New York Drama Critics’ Circle. How about that for a play that consisted of an all black cast, with the exception of one white? The following year it was nominated for four Tony Awards including; Best Play, Best Actor in Play, Best Actress in Play and Best Direction of a Play. In 1961 A Raisin in the Sun was turned into a major motion picture featuring its original Broadway cast. So, of course it stands to reason that when Sean Combs brought it to television, he would follow suit and use the same cast he worked with in the 2004 Broadway revival. (Who knew that Phylicia Rashad and Audra McDonald received Tony Awards for their performances back then? Not I. Nor did I know that this play was adapted for television once before, in 1989, starring Danny Glover and Esther Rolle (Damn! Damn! Damn!)
As a side bar, I think it was the first time that white folks got an inside look at how black folks lived. You know that shit is always interesting. Funny, how we went from proud, black people with a dream for something better, to angry ghetto thugs; still with a dream for something better but now we kill one another (In the movies I mean...In the movies), and white folks still think they are getting a legitimate look at the inside of black culture.
I remember having to read A Raisin in the Sun growing up. The thing that always stood out to me, when I read the book, was a poem by Langston Hughes, which preceded the play. C’mon, we all know it.
A Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
I liked the fact that Mr. Hughes left this question opened for the reader to decide for himself the answer. I still have not decided the answer, and believe it or not, I have actually pondered over it for a many a years. You see, I have a dream deferred, but not from lack of trying. A dream that has been deferred since I was eighteen years old. I will say this; it does hurt to continue to go after something that you want and to never have it reach fruition. I won’t tell you what this dream in question is, but I will tell you that I often thought that if I died without accomplishing it I would feel like I died a failure (no matter what my other accomplishments). I guess that would fit the category of sagging like a heavy load, huh.
Anyway, anyone else suffer from a dream deferred? Wanna share?
-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.
I’m gonna write me a play. I think I’ll call it A Crack Rock in the Moonlight.
Monday, February 25, 2008
-One Man's Opinion. Peace.
I know...this is the lamest post ever. So what.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Anyway, yesterday was the season premier of Cycle 10 of America’s Next Top model. It was pretty good. I like seeing the women fight. I like seeing the world's standard of beauty and I especial love seeing what America considers a “plus size” model. All the other Drama is just icing on the cake. Well, on this particular episode we meet Fatima (pictured above). Fatima, in my eyes, is not that attractive and if you see her in a bathing suit she looks malnourished. In the very first episode she gets into it with Muhammad Ali’s niece and some other curly haired sister (neither of which make the final cut). All while waiting to interview with the panel, in the mist of all the white girls. Why must we put on a show for the white folks? Can somebody tell me? The drama all starts because Fatima tells her fellow sisters of color that they are acting Ghetto and should be ashamed. And they were acting pretty damn ghetto, so I don’t know why they got all mad. LOL.
Well, before all is said and done there is a complete turnaround. They start talking about sex or some crap and Fatima says how she doesn’t think she will ever have sex with a man. Of course this is an unthinkable concept for the horny hoes on America’s Next Top Model. Then they learn that Fatima had to suffer through the mutilation of Female Circumcision (a process that she explains to the panel) and there is the sisterly bond of tears and hugs. One of the more manly of the women asked Fatima if the circumcision made her feel like less of a woman. The other girls got all indignant and shit by the question, and although it was probably an inappropriate time to ask the question I thought it was a legitimate one. Hell, I wanted to hear the answer my damn self.
A definition: The removal of the clitoris and labia and the sewing up of the vagina, leaving only a small opening for urine and menstrual blood - a process known as infibulation. (This is just one of the three type so female castration).
This is the form of Female Circumcision that Fatima had to endure. Except when she explained it she said that they took her “two ladies and sewed them together”. I was mortified just listening. So, of course I looked it up today so I could speak on it here (I didn’t want to appear too ig’nant).
So drastic is the mutilation involved in the latter operation that young brides have to be cut open to allow penetration on their wedding night and are customarily sewn up afterwards. (Can you believe that crap?) The castration is to ensure that woman are faithful to their future husbands. Some communities, in Africa, don’t even see woman as being iligiable for marriage if they have not been circumcised.
My short little research of the process reveled to me that girls as young as three years of age have to go through this process, but this varies according to countries and cultures. What does not vary is the fact that the operations that these girls endure are often carried out in unsanitary conditions. Razor blades, scissors, kitchen knives and even pieces of glass are used, often on more than one girl, which increases the risk of infection. And get this…Anesthesia is rarely used.
Some girls die as a result of hemorrhaging, septicemia and shock or suffer long term urinary and reproductive problems.
I will admit that I had hear of female circumcision prior to this episode of America’s Next Top model, but never really bothered to get to learn more about it. As a circumcised man I couldn’t even begin to understand the concept of circumcision on a woman. I am saddened to learn that women still undergo such barbaric practices. It saddens me even more to learn that in many cultures, women who have not underwent this surgery are considered unclean, harlots and treated as such. The men of these cultures believe even believe that they will die if their penis touches a woman’s clitoris.
(Everything below this sentence came directly from the article I read.)
Campaigns are working
Female circumcision is part of the fabric of many African societies
Due to health campaigns, female circumcision has been falling in some countries in the last decade. In Kenya, a 1991 survey found that 78% of teenagers had been circumcised, compared to 100% of women over 50. In Sudan, the practice dropped by 10% between 1981 and 1990.
Several governments have introduced legislation to ensure the process is only carried out in hospitals by trained doctors.
Other countries such as Egypt have banned the operation altogether, but there is significant opposition to change because of the traditional nature of the process and health workers think a less confrontational approach, such as Ntanira Na Mugambo, could be more successful.
Ntanira Na Mugambo, also known as 'circumcision by words', has been developed in rural areas of Kenya by local and international women's health organisations.
It involves a week-long programme of community education about the negative effects of female genital mutilation, culminating in a coming of age ceremony for young women.
The young women are secluded for a week and undergo classes in reproduction, anatomy, hygiene, respect for adults, developing self-esteem and dealing with peer pressure.
Family members also undergo health education sessions and men in the community are taught about the negative effects of female circumcision.
Health workers believe the programme works because it does not exert a blunt prohibition on female genital mutilation, but offers an attractive alternative.
-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.
I hate to make this a sidebar, but it has to be noted. On this date, in 1965, Malcolm X was assassinated.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
I fell so sorry for Hillary. I’m not counting her out or anything like that, because that would just be plain stupid on my side. Sure Obama is ahead right now, but ya just never know when America’s true racism might rear its ugly head. Still, how funny is it that she tries to bite on Obama’s Yes We Can, speech, with this bogus Yes We Will speech? I know she’s jealous, because the brother has the votes and two Grammys, but still. Get over it Hillary! Check out the full video of her speech, shown below. How funny is it that she gives her bottle of water to someone off stag and then almost chokes her damn self? And who the hell wants to drink after her ass anyway? Not I said the little brown man.
Yeah, I also know that people say she has more experience running the country because she was the woman behind Ole Billy boy. Since when does fucking the President mean that you have presidential experience? Hell, if you follow that logic then Monica Lewinsky should at least get the nod for vice presidency, huh? Just a thought.
-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.
Oh, and yall are gonna have to excuse me for not posting more often. Since my wireless internet stop working, my ass is just too plain lazy to walk into the next room and write about crap. Sorry. Love ya.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
January 8, 1811, Charles Deslondes led a slave revolt in New Orleans. January 2, 1965 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. called for protest when Alabama Blacks were not allowed to vote. One February 12, 1909, the NAACP was founded in New York City. And, sometime during this decade the person in the above video, beat the hell out of a defenseless old man, just so he could take his car, all while other people who looked like us looked on. Makes you proud to have brown skin, don’t it?
What have you done to uplift your race, whatever it might be, today.
One Man’s Opinion. Peace.
I would really like to thank all of you for the kind works and helpful advice. I am much better now.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
I want yall to know that my whole body is in pain, to the point that even my eyes hurt and that I have to walk on tippy-toes to travel around the house. I am hot and cold at the same time (to the point that I am under the covers with the ceiling fan on), but my spirits are still high. I just wanted yall to know why I have not posted in a while. It truly hurts me even to type this damn post.
Before you ask, yes I have talked to a doctor and I am heavily medicated. I know what else you are thinks. This old ass negro is always sick. Damn!
One Man's Opinion. Peace.
Send in your prayers. Those always help.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
On January 3, 1624, William Tucker was the very first Black child born in the United States. On January 1, 1863 the Emancipation Proclamation was issued. On January 12, 1948 The U.S. Supreme Court ruled Blacks had the right to study law at state institutions. In then, in 1952, THe Universtiy of Tennessee admitted it 1st Black student. 1971 the first Congressional Black Caucus was formed. And, sometime during this decade some body posted this gem on Youtube for all the world to see.
What have you done to uplift your race today?
-One Man's Opinion. Peace.
The Title is not of my mine, but the actual title of the Youtube post. Ain't ya proud?
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
Two Thousand and eight and people still shamed of being black. Here it is, people, Day one of Colored...Negro...Black...African-American, er, Golden Children History Month. What are you gonna do to celibrate this month, this year? Sure enough we should celibrate the history of blackness everyday, every hour, every moment of our lives, but the reality is that some of us don't. Hell, I think McDonald's celibrate black folks more than black folks do and you know it. I don't know why I decided to honor this first day of February with this clip from Imitation of Life. But you gotta admit, it's not everyday that poor black people get this kind of a furneral. Only in the movies' huh?
Happy Black History Month, peeps. I love each and everyone you, no matter what your race or nationality, but if you look like me I honor you today and every day. This is the first February that I have had this blog and I am trying to decide if I am going to honor this month with only positive things to say about positive black folk from the past and in the present, or if I am just gonna hate on stupid like I always do. The answer remains to be seen.
-One Man's Opinion. Peace.
Remember, today is the first day of Black History month. So, be nice to a minority today.