Emasculation to Homophobia

As a child growing up in the 70's with a single mom, I'd always hear my mother told that because I was in the house reading, instead of in the streets fighting or playing football, that I would grow up to be a sissy.

I think the main reason it didn't impact me as much is that my mom didn't seem to care, so I didn't care.

For a child of that era, especially a black boy, the one thing that would get you to fight was being called a sissy or a punk. It robbed you of your "manness" because punks and sissies were not men.

As we got older, the concept of not being a "real" man was a hurtful thing for some men to hear. That being said, proving that you were a man was crucial to your image so that not being a punk was primary, and not tolerating them was a close second.

Look at hip-hop for a moment... Lil Wayne makes a song called lollipop. That he saw as so suspect, that he prefaced the WHOLE song with a "no homo" at the beginning.

But going further than my childhood, look at civil rights where the men were denied jobs and the women given menial labor to support a family that the man is supposed to. Look at slavery where wives were taken from their husbands and sometimes "taken" in front of their husbands to show their non sexual impotence to stop it. There are even reports of male slaves being raped and beaten if they resisted but ostracized by their peers if the didn't.

Just a few examples.

Transformers Review with spoilers.

Everything wrong with Transformers in a lot of words...

So we open on 65 milliom years ago. I know this because there are dinosaurs.

It's all very Prometheus. The dinosaurs die because they were turned into metal. Except one who got away. Oh noes!

Is that the one we see Optimus riding in the trailer? Wait, why haven't we found these metal dinosaurs now? Oh, we have. But only one of them? I'm confused. It's explained later, but a good movie should show. Not tell.

Cue some exposition of Fraiser Crane explaining that we're hunting Decepticons and then we see this hunt and oh noes again. It's an Autobot. Wait, the shady government guy was lying. Dum Dum Dum!

Cue text showing "Texas." Cue me sarcastically going woo hoo at the screen. Cue the lady next to me giving me a "hell yeah!" Cue me realizing I do love Texas. Woo hoo is right! Texas Forever! Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose! (I love Friday Night Lights yall.) ok. Enough setup. On to the hate.

So, Marky Mark is a bad inventor who has a hot underage daughter and an idiot for an employee. Gilfoyle from the awesome Silicon Valley. He's buying scrap and notices a beat up truck with mortar shells in it. He buys it to sell for parts to pay for his daughters education because she can't get financial aid. Why not? No idea. They're poor. Haven't paid a mortgage in 6 months. Dad isn't working, but never mind.

So he realizes the truck is a transformer. He removes a missile from it, which doesn't blow up the house and since the bullet is out, the transformer wakes up and it's Optimus. Here's where the ignorance begins.

So Optimus tells Marky Mark and his funky bunch of friends that his autobot friends can fix him. Marky says he can do it and sends funky bunch #1 to the store for parts, who instead calls the government. Who didn't see that coming? Stevie Wonder did. The government shows and when Frasier tells the bad guys to shoot Jailbait, Optimus comes out of hiding to kick ass. Wait. Wasn't he broken? Oh. He is. Ok. So he fights an evil robot and tries to run away.

After some pretty cool explosions, they do. Optimus calls the rest of the autobots and they roll out.

So, while rolling out, optimus scans a bigger, truck and changes into it. But didn't you need someone to fix you? If you could just scan another vehicle and magically transform, why didn't you before? Hey, I can ask questions. I'm not supposed to? Ok. So, all the autobots show up. Wait. They were all in Texas? Oh yeah. No questions. Texas is kinda big so, ok.

So, we got a military robot who smokes a cigar. Not just a cigar like item. It burns and he inhales and exhales smoke. Cause robot lungs or something.

We have a samurai who speaks in haiku and wears a metal but flowing cape/robe and carries two swords and has a Japanese accent.

And we have bumblebee who still hasn't gotten his damn voice box fixed.

And we have a pissed off Optimus who's decided he's gonna kill humans now. Oh noes!

So now we learn that the dudes that killed the dinosaurs gathered the metal and made the transformers and Stanley Tucci figured it all out, so he's melting all the transformers down to make his own. One of the parts he uses is Megatrons head. That'll work out fine I bet. Little wheelie is locked up and helps.

Then wheelie tells us that Megatron wasn't dead and sent a virus, Independence Day style, into the newly made robots. Why the Fuck didn't you tell someone I say to the screen? Why didn't you say something? Jailbait asks wheelie. Did she hear me? No? Ok. He went to a dark place on death row he says. The Fuck?

So, Optimus is caught along with Jailbait who was too stupid/scared to run away from the exploding cars and the fight.

The autobots get on the ship and the humans pass by a weapons cache, including, I Bullshit you not, a large mass of metal with a large sword sticking out of it. I think that maybe that Excalibur there might be important later... Nah. Couldn't possibly be a Knights allusion...

So later, when the autobots need help, Optimus goes and pulls Excalibur from the stone and says he's now the leader of the legendary Knights. Fuck me I hate being right. He runs into a valley and returns with not one, but four big robots who are the legendary warriors.

Where the hell did they come from? We're they in hiding? Who made them? Cause we determined that the people who destroyed the dinosaurs did it to collect the metal. They didn't make anything on Earth. But I guess they did and we never ever saw them in China before. Oh yeah. We're in China now. We got there in like 15 minutes.

So anyway, Optimus whips Grimlok's ass and makes him bow down (TM Ice Cube), so now we have allies. Big ship comes down to magnetize everything and then drop it again. Was there an Inception noise? Don't remember.

Let's see... Big machine... Picks up stuff... Drops it... Are we sure the creators aren't Kyyptonian? I think, shoot the middle of it like Independence Day. Five minutes later, they shoot the middle like Independence Day.

Optimus perseveres with the help of the humans because honor or something.

And then. Then. Optimus. Prime. Flies.

He lights fucking rockets in his legs and flies.

And I immediately think of 20 different times in this movie alone where his flying would have saved lives. Lots of them. It was as preposterous as when R2-D2 flew in Star Wars.

Was that it? No. There were the statutory rape jokes about Jailbait the hot teenage daughter. Jokes about her being a hot teenager. Jokes about her shorts getting shorter. I get it. She's the anti Megan Fox. She was pretty and smart and mostly not useless. But come on.

Marky Mark was pretty good except for his Boston Texas accent.

Luck Charms was an ok Josh Duhamel replacement. But the whole coward thing? I would have shot him where he stood and told my daughter that Galvetron did it.

What did I like about the movie you ask?

Kelsey Grammer as a villain. Loved it. He should play all villains in all movies.

Mark Wahlberg's jokes. Nearly every time I laughed, it was something he said. The spaceship insurance joke was killer.

The women who could kick ass but realistically couldn't overpower a man twice her size. Human fights were not exaggerated.

The knockoff of Bumblebee being called Stinger...

But for everything I like it reminds me of something else that pissed me off.

i.e. Galvatron as a truck that reminds me so much of Goliath, that I kept looking for a black Trans Am called KITT.

I love transformers. I do. I bought the sets back when DVD season sets were like $80 each, and they had the nerve to break the seasons in half.

It's like loving the recipe for your mother's Thanksgiving Day meal and then finding someone who says they can make it for you if you pay them.

You sit at the table mouth watering to taste a meal you haven't had in years. You know it won't be exact, but it has to be close. You take that first bite and realize they fucked it up to high heaven.

The turkey looks like a turkey but is dry and tasteless. The macaroni was baked too hard. The giblet gravy came from a can. And the most horrible is the Pecan pie which was made with chopped nuts rather than whole and they used the wrong Karo syrup.

You were sold a bill of goods based on the nostalgia of your childhood and now you can't get your money back.

So TL:DR version. It was pretty and loud and long but not good. Not good at all.

Cleaning Out My Closet

Today, as I begin the start of something new and wonderful, but also a long time coming, I begin to clean my closet.

I've consolidated my personal online presence to one that a select few can find and created separate and unequal versions for public consumption.

Stay tuned.

Dreams and Reality

This is a repost as I'm closing my myspace page and wanted to keep this blog.

I sometimes question the idea that dreams are a manifestation of the subconscious mind. If that's the case, then I'm not sure where I am in my life, because for the past few nights, my dreams have been either about my mother or about the rose.

Now, none of them have been truly overt, allowing me to know immediately what my mind (if you belive the experts, it's only my mind and nothing deeper) was trying to tell me. In all of my examples, my mother was only a tertiary character in the dream. As for the rose... the rose would began as secondary and become more primary before I would awaken. I say this because sometimes if I fully remember the dream then it takes on more meaning. These times, it hasn't really helped doing that.

But this brings me to the reason for giving breath to these thoughts that swirl in the recesses of my mind. Over the past few years, I've become less and less inclined to believe in coincidence and even less apt to believe that dreams are manifestations of things you already have seen and/or experienced and are just being played out in your head while the other side of the world enjoys their noonday latte.

I give you this example.

One day, while I was leaving work, I got an idea in my head to stop by the Half-Price Books in Frisco. I had never been in and wanted to see what I could find that I didn't already own. If you've seen my bookcases overflowing with unread tomes, you would wonder why I felt I needed more books, which only adds to the story.

As I parked my car and got out, an older white man began walking towards me. Yes, it was important that I mentioned his race. It plays a part. The interaction was something like this.

WM: Beautiful weather were having, isn't it?
Me: Sure.
WM: So how's your day going?
Me: Good I guess.
WM: I really didn't want to bother you, but you look remarkably like my granddaughter.
Me: Okay (followed by a puzzled look).
WM: Yeah. My daughter and son-in-law adopted a little African-American girl, and you remind me so much of her.
Me: Okay (now I'm starting to feel weird).
WM: She is just the smartest little thing. And so precious beyond her years. Really articulate and reads so well. She can pick up any card game in a few minutes and beat you just like that.
Me: Okay. (At this point, I'm walking away and trying to ignore him.)
WM: Yeah. Dannie is alright.

Now, at this point, I kind of stopped in my tracks and froze for a minute. My mother was Dannie. Not short for Danielle or anything. Just Dannie, named after her father, Dan. I've never met another female named Dannie.

Me: What?
WM: I said Dannie is alright. She's a great person. (He probably said more, but I missed it completely.) Well, you have a good day.

And with that, he turned around and got back in his car. I saw him get out of his car when I pulled up. He stopped and talked to me. Then he got back in his car and drove away. He never went into the store.

Now call me crazy, but at a moment/period in my life where I experienced a loss that I hope finds none of you soon, I needed some type of comfort. I couldn't find it from my girl. I didn't want to seek it from my boys. But I needed it nonetheless. And I think it was provided for me.

So, ask yourself this. You decide to go to a store you've passed 10 times a week but never had a desire to enter, to buy something you do not need and have too much of. You meet a man in the parking lot of that store, getting out of his car. He, despite being a different race than you tells you that he has a granddaughter your race who is a joy to his family, and her name is a non-traditional and uncommon boys' name and is the same as your mother who's recent death you haven't really found a way to mourn. What would you think?

Now, as I think back on this day, I wonder about it. I mean, despite the fact that it took me a long time to even tell anyone about it, I know it really happened, but it feels so much like a dream. Then I have my recent dreams that felt so real... Maybe one day we'll all get the answers we seek.

What I do know is this. Dannie is alright is a phrase that for the three years since I've heard it has given me comfort in the time that I needed it. And for some reason in the valleys between the joys of cultivating the rose, Dannie is alright. It calms me and gets me through nights where dreams that feel so real end just before the embrace or when a single mother on TV tells her son like my mother always told me that, "It's me and you against the world," or when I can't bring myself to delete a number from my phone. I know that Dannie is alright, and that does for me what I know that no one or nothing else can.

Don't worry. It's still me and you against the world.

I Thought You Liked Foreplay

We men would love, love, LOVE to have the sixty second, "wanna hang out," "how was your day," type of conversations. They rock. They are the purpose of phones, IMHO. The problem is that it always balloons from there. You want longer conversations. You want us to read sonnets that we've written about you over the phone from memory. The phone becomes a substitute for what we want... more on that in a minute.

See, I love my cousin. He is the perfect example of what I want, and when he calls me, the conversation is usually like this.

{start call}
Cole.
Cuz! What's up?
How's things going?
Good. How's everybody there?
Good. So and so asked about you. You should call them.
I'll do that.
Alright man, just checking on you.
Cool. I'll talk to you later.
Love ya.
Love you too man.
{end call}

It's what we do. 45 seconds and we get our point across.

Which brings me to the want. Women use the phone to have "conversations." This is what we men would prefer to have when we are physically together. And I know I speak for myself, but I think I speak for a lot of other men. The long convos are for together time.

This is why we love text. Simple 160 characters to exchange info. Where are you? I'm running late. I miss you. These can't be drawn into a long discussion and at worst, you type a few of these. And they can be drawn out over the day, each one taking only a few seconds.

This is flirtation. This is fun. Coming up with a concept, paring it down to fit in a 160 character (including punctuation and spaces) message. Changing words and phrases so that we don't lose the meaning and innuendo. This is not an easy task. We love it. Especially when you "get" it. It's our way to get you and us through the day. That sexually veiled comment that makes us smile when that one stupid customer gets to us. That thought of what we might say to you when we do see you. The words that we will say to soothe your awful day. The hilarious story you won't believe... This is our joy. Do not take it away.

So, ladies, in order to find out if your man/lover/dude is like me, ask yourself what the conversation is like when you're together.

Is it lively and animated and fun? If so, you may just have to learn to deal with it.

Look at the texting as the foreplay and the personal conversation as the sex.

I have to write

Maslow once wrote in his Hierarchy of Needs, that once we reach the height of our pyramid, we must strive for self-actualization. He says,

"A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself."

As a person who feels he is a poet, I've decided that the only way to get better... the only way to reach that peak and make myself finish what I've started is to explore my earlier work, revise, and... write. So here goes. My goal is to contrast an old work with something new. If I give a gap of 5 to 10 years between posted work, maybe I can see where I was, where I am, and where I need to be.

Old

MIRAGE
Nefertitti reborn to queen my king and
I don't know how to act
Now that you are actually within my reach
As my head swims with a feeling I've never
Known before drowning me in emotion
Absolute madness calls to me on one side with
You on the other, and I realize that all is
Fair in war and that other thing that I
Really can't bring myself to mention
Afraid more that you will than you won't
Needing to speak but sitting in silence I
Kiss you in my dreams and caress you
Softly wishing my dreams into truth

New

away
your delirious woman power
pounds my vision with wants
i would not ask of my diamond love
delicate light voids death petals shadow
as the goddess whispers the rain to
flood my tongue so i
cannot scream your beauty

They were both written from a place of love, but I see the new one as more raw. More real. I was constrained writing both of them. Both needed specific info. The second though was written using one of those magnetic poetry kits. I think that being controlled and limited to the words I wanted to use helped me to make consciuos decisions about what I wanted to say and the words I could use to say it.

As a result, I feel that the second poem conveys a deeper feeling than the first even though I could be more free with the words in the first.

Def Poetry

My love knows now bounds for that which is the Def Poetry Jam. I was watching the episode with Jill Scott, who has impressed me since the day I heard her ode to the love of her life, "He Loves Me (Lyzel in E Flat)."

The other day, I tried to come up with names of songs that celebrated men instead of denigrated them. This is in my opinion the best. Others include "He Is" by Heather Headley, Chante Moore's "Chante's Got a Man," "Brotha" by Angie Stone, Salt-n-Pepa & EnVogue's "Whatta Man," and India.Arie's "The Truth." If anybody can think of any others, please let me know.

But back on topic... Watching this show makes my insides twist as I feel what I know that I want to be able to do. The power of words and being able to craft those words to punch someone in the stomach or head with something that is literally mind blowing. In a verse by Mos Def on Jill's "Love Rain Remix" he says

I stretch my arms towards the sky like blades of tall grass,
The sun beat between my shoulders like carnaval drums.
I sat still in hopes that it would help my wings grow
So then I could really be fly.
And then she arrived.
Like daybreak inside a railway tunnel,
like the new moon,
like a diamond in the mines,
like high noon to a drunkard,
Sudden...
She made my heart beat in the now, now time signature,
her skin a canvas for ultra violet brush strokes.
She was the sun's painting,
she was a deep cogniac color,
her eyes sparkle like lights along the new city,
her lips purse as if her breath was too sweet and full for her mouth to hold.
I said:
"You are the beautiful distress of mathmatics,"
I said:
"For you, I will peel open the clouds like new fruit,
and give you lightning and thunder as a dowry,
I will make the sky shed all of it's stars like rain,
and I will clast the constellations across your waste,
and i will make the heavens your keep.
And they will be pleased to cover you,
they will be pleased to cover you,
May i please... cover you...

...please...

This is an almost untouchable verse, and someday mine will be too. But until then, I'll try.

Answers to questions unasked
Make questions crave answers,
Once held fast, like my heart endeared to yours.
Unspoken words strain to break loose,
Racing to your ears and soul,
Just like beggars who ride wishes.
Everything makes sense, but
Nothing even matters, now that I
Know what I was too afraid to speak
In your presence or out, without
Naming the vision that makes
Solitude weep for its captured souls.
CAC

Today, I saw love.

On this, the occasion of my good friend's wedding, I saw love. I know what the one random person who may view this blog is thinking about emotions running high during a wedding. This is not that.

I always liked the woman that my friend picked, but if ever there was a doubt that she was his and he was hers, it was cleared today when they danced to "Love is You," by Chrisette Michelle.

As the song played, I saw how she sang to him as if she wrote the lyrics and how they held each other for that song.

I saw love.

New Venture

So, it seems that cybersquatters have taken all of the good blogging web site names. I gotta either come up with a nonsensical name that may become big one day, or pay $16k to get a name that is already there that I love.

Sometimes I hate the Internet. It is simultaneously the greatest and the worst thing that man has created.

10 Reflections on 2007

As 2007 comes to a close, I take time to reflect on my life and make changes as I see fit.

This year, I made choices that I regret and choices that I wish I could take back. But until I finish installing the flux capacitor into my Delorean, I can't make those things go away. But for them, I am a better man.

I loved and lost and loved again... and lost again, but that's another story. In neither case am I bitter. Let's just say that however perfect a piece of a puzzle may be carved, it may fit together with a lot of other pieces, but it only works with it's intended matching piece.

I began to write again. Words began to flow into ideas and flood my mind with images that screamed that pen be put to paper (or fingers to keys in my case). Poems and novels and screenplays fought for the right to be discovered first. None of them have won their battle, but one is emerging as the front runner. But at any rate, I'm trying to follow Maslow's teaching. As an artist, I need to create my art. And until we get into a position where we create our own characters, shows, and entertainment from conception to production, we must still expect to see crap like Cavemen get green lit to primetime TV.

I made family a priority. I was able to visit my family in Chicago this year, whom I haven't seen in years. But I also made time to spend with my extended family. For my boys who have become like brothers to me over the years, I made time to spend with them. We celebrated Felton's Birthday, Roland's Graduation, My Birthday, Roland's Birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and a host of other occasions together. Family time is essential to help yourself not go crazy.

I turned another year older and realized that 30 really is the new 20. I still have time to live my dreams and to find the woman that will help me to realize them. Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you... ever notice that the first letters of ask, seek, and knock spell ASK? Guess I gotta get the courage to do that one first.

I still miss my mother. But after facing some things that I didn't want to face, I know that everything will be okay. I'm thankful to God and to the person that had the foresight to tell me to come home when I needed to. I was there not as much as I needed to be, but I was there when it mattered the most. Call your mom. Tell her you love her. After you hang up the phone, call her back and tell her again. Trust me on this one.

I tried to be a good wingman and in the meantime, I came up with the almost perfect way to explain to women how dudes approach them in a club. I give you in it's entirety from my earlier blog... My Theorem, copyright Corey Anthoney Cole, 2007. Ladies, please make note of this and pass it along to those who need it.

Ladies, we need a plan. See, for us, we may take 20 minutes to gain the courage to come talk to you. Now if we are imbibing in that "liquid courage" then the equation looks more like TA = (T)/(.5*D) Where TA is the real time to approach, T is the standard time to approach, and D is the number of drinks you've had. So if we would normally approach you in 20 minutes, in the club, with 2 drinks in us, that seems about right. With only one drink, it'll take 40 minutes to make that move.

Now when you have your girls (G) with you, that final number is multiplied by the number in your party TA = G*((T)/(.5*D)). It kind of explains why the first dude to approach you is normally drunk. They get less and less drunk as the night goes on. They also get nicer and nicer since the nice guys drink less and tend to wait out the standard amount of courage time. Keep this in mind when you realize that the first 10 dudes to approach have made you bitter to the last few.

I made a conscious effort to lose weight and it paid off... 40 pounds so far. I just needed the right motivation I guess. My goal is not to be skinny, but to get more healthy and back to at least my weight when I was in college.

I realized that in 2007, there are sill some ignorant people around, and that racism is still alive in America. America was built by it, so it's foolish for us to believe it will go away. We need to embrace the idea that this is where we are and make an effort to go forward by looking back. Why were there more black graduates in the 50's and 60's than there are today?
I celebrated the rebirth of hip-hop. Once again, she was the shining angel that soothed me with her lyrics. I'd like to thanks the paramedics that revived her, Messieurs S. Carter, T. Kweli, L. Lynn, and K. West. For the uninitiated, the would be Jay-Z, Talib Kweli, Common, and Kanye West. New music was released by all and I saw all but 1 live in concert. Let's hope they teach the hip-hop community how to rhyme without misogyny.

I realized that I am a complex individual. I am sometimes light and dark, dumb and smart, and every shade of both in between. I am a work in progress and I am the architect, or as Sean Carter says of the late great Christopher Wallace, "Then B.I. said Hov, remind yourself. Nobody built like you. You design yourself."

Now as I look forward to 2008, I make plans, the least of which is less procrastination. You will finally see the blog on being a good wingman, as well as my opus on being a hustler. And maybe after the country selects the lesser of two evils for a new leader, things will really begin to look up.

Who Am I?

I give breath to thought. I give flight to fancy. I drink words to sate the thirst of mind. I lament the state of my community. I plan to do something about it. I love the youth of tomorrow. I see their potential. I sometimes cheat on my diet. I am a poet. I am both content and disgusted by my size. I have seen movies that have made me cry. I have never drunk dialed a woman.

I love my country. I hate that my love is questioned because I do not love its leader. I have danced with the most beautiful woman in the club. I am an incurable flirt. I can install brake pads. I can cook. I sometimes ask for advice that I didn't really want. I have swum in the ocean. I love that I can write. I hate that I'm not writing. I am an excellent wingman.

I have held in tears when I should have shed them. I have cried for those undeserving. I have been in love. I have been in lust. I have experienced racism firsthand. I dream a world of perfection. I am sad that it is not real. I love hot wings. I have been hurt. I have caused hurt. I promise to experience neither of these again. I wonder if I can keep that promise.

I have made a fool of myself for love and money. I miss my mother. I speak French. I have owned a ferret. I am bourgeois. I swore off soda for two years. I broke that vow for a vanilla coke in 2005. I love chick flicks. I have pursued a woman in a "wait and see" mode. I almost went to Japan to teach English after college. I am a better man because of Dr. Raphael Cassimere, Jr. I have wronged a friend over a woman.

I have owned a gun. I spend too much money on DVD's. I just want to be loved. I am loyal. I am in a race for the affection of a beautiful woman. I have no doubt that I will win. I have never been to jail. I have shown my ass at a step show, twice. I love to argue. I love the thought of a woman who's smarter than me.

I celebrate my black queen. I wonder why the rest of the world does not. I accept my role in the world but not my place. I look in the mirror and see a work in progress.

I am not complete.

"Then B.I. said Hov, remind yourself. Nobody built like you. You design yourself." Jay-Z

I am.

My review of the Common concert or It’s ALIVE!!! Part

I was just reminded that I promised this quite a while ago.

I know. I suck.

I was trying not to upset the people I know who couldn't go. And I'm still torn at the idea of telling you about what could possibly be the best hip-hop show I've ever seen and resigning it with the fact that you weren't there. So, here goes.

So, I ended up with an extra ticket. And since the prettiest woman I know who loved hip-hop couldn't go, I was left to start at the top of my phone's contact list and go down. Luckily for my boy, my list is alphabetical by first name and his name starts with a C. So I called Black Charles (Yes. There is a White Charles), he asked his wifes okay, and David and I met him at the HoB. The line was long, so we decided to have dinner and cut the line.

There's an interesting side story about how there was an hour and a half wait even though there were at least 10 visible tables empty. And about how we just decided to drink, but buying drinks doesn't let you cut the line, but the hostess who didn't look like us took care of us when the hostess who did look like us only shook her head "no" every time I asked her for something.

Anyway... hours, and many drinks, later we finished dinner and went to the show. I suggest the bbq pulled pork. It was excellent.

Interestingly enough, we got in at the exact moment that the opening act came on. So, had we been on the floor for the entire time, we may have gotten closer to the stage, but I would have been a little mad. There's not much to say about the Knux except they had a song with the lyric, "I want a cappuccino with a mocha chip." Yeah. It was bad. After they left, we chatted amongst ourselves and laughed with some girls around us about how bad the Knux were. On another side note, the women you meet at a hip-hop concert are interesting. I mean the ones that come alone. I know that hip-hop is not a genre meant for men, but it's still strange seeing it.

Alas, we got some more drinks and then the real show began. I think it was 3 Patron shots and maybe 3 or 4 Bluesmobiles for me during the night. I know. No need for a lecture.

The curtain came up and Common came out, starting the show with the last track from his album, aptly titled "Forever Begins." most of the show consisted of his new stuff. I wondered why he didn't start the show with Start The Show, and of course David being wise beyond his years reminded me of how cliched that would be. He of course did The People, I Want You, Southside, The Game, Black Maybe, Drivin Me Wild, Break My Heart, Misunderstood, The Light, The Corner, Go, Faithful, Come Close, and Testify. It also wouldn't be a Common show without I Used to Love HER.

He pulled a girl up on stage to do The Light and then segued into Break My Heart. (She said you know, I don't be datin rappers. I said I got my SAG card, baby. I'm an actor.) He did a full four minute freestyle in the middle of his set which was off the proverbial hook. I took the video but the sound is awful. He also went into a part after that about loving hip-hop.

The DJ played and he broke down a few lines from classic hip-hop tracks following them with the line "that's hip-hop." The coolest part about it it that he would never say the whole line. He would say the first few words and then the crowd would take over. And nobody was left out. He closed that song with the last verse of Passing Me By (Now there she goes again, the dopest Ethiopian, and now the world around me begins moving in slow motion when...) and Big Poppa (To all the ladies in the place with style and grace, allow me to lace these lyrical...). It was perfect.

For Testify, a song I never really liked, since it's basically a mix of The Usual Suspects and every other CSI plot ever, he kind of acted it out. It's a song I'll enjoy more now, mainly because of the live performance.

He also did a few tracks that weren't his. He did Kanye's Get Em High, and something from Talib Kweli, I think.

He broke into The Game and then into the highlight of the show for me, Misunderstood. It was the most fantastic part of the show. The song was slowed down a bit and everybody was singing the chorus. Then during the break of the song he talked a bit and gave a list of the people he felt were misunderstood. (Including Michael Vick and Kanye West, which had the audience rolling.)

It's still all a jumble and of course I got the tracks out of order (except for the first one), but the best part of the night was a true hip-hop show with no incidents. Just a full standing room only crowd loving the performance.

So, I have now seen a live show from all three of the subjects of my earlier blog. So, if you're fed up with the state of hip-hop today, there is hope. Find an unsigned artist to listen to. Go see a live show.

And if Common ever comes anywhere close, make sure you check it out.

So why is it that...

When Maury invariably says, "Twysheika, when it comes to 9 week old Tykaboon, Vashawn is NOT the father," several things are sure to happen.

Vashawn will get up and do a little dance and maybe dap someone in the audience. Twysheika will scream, bury her head in her hands, get up and run off stage, and collapse on the floor, right in front of a nice comfortable looking couch.

I woke up from a pretty uncomfortable dream this morning and I have a late workday. I decided to turn on the TV, which for some reason I had consciously left off for the past few months.

Now I remember why.

It's ALIVE!!!

So in just a short amount of time, Talib Kweli, Common, and Kanye have released new music to the masses.

I say it's time to celebrate the resurrection of Hip-Hop.

For too long, Hip-Hop was drowning in a sea of mediocrity. Granted, someone would release a pretty bad song and then release a remix that included a verse by Andre 3000 or Big Boi or both and it would make me smile, but sad at the same time of the death of the friend that got me through so many boring days.

I fell in love with Hip-Hop while listening to 88.3 in Little Rock. It was only on for a couple of hours a day, so I would turn on the radio and hold up the tape recorder (and pray that Shelley Pope wasn't the DJ, cause he always talked over the whole damn song) to capture the songs that I would play and replay day in and day out. And as I grew, so did Hip-Hop. Recently, I thought that maybe she should be put out of her misery, but I found some underground and indie stuff that kept my love for her alive.

And now, three major releases have shown me that she still has some fight left.

If you haven't done it yet, go pick up Finding Forever, Eardrum, and Graduation. And listen. Don't listen like my boy did, to 30 second tracks on iTunes. Borrow someone's copy, listen, and then go out and buy your own. Support good music.

Maybe they'll make more.

Words of wisdom for my future seed...

First, let no one rule your mind or body.

Take special care that your thoughts remain unfettered. One may be a free man and yet be bound tighter than a slave.

Give men your ear, but not your heart.

Show respect for those in power, but don't follow them blindly.

Judge with logic and reason, but comment not.

Consider none your superior, whatever their rank or station in life.

Treat all fairly or they will seek revenge.

Be careful with your money.

Hold fast to your beliefs and others will listen.

Of the affairs of love... my only advice is to be honest. That's your most powerful tool to unlock a heart or gain forgiveness.

That is all I have to say.

What year is this again?

So I go to see a friend of mine and she asks me if I've ever heard of the Jena 6. When I tell her that I haven't she reads me an email that she got in her in-box. The email that she sent is included in this blog in it's entirety.

I stand and stare incredulous and ask if she looked this up on the internet. I'm tired of people telling me I'm gonna go to hell if I don't send a postcard to a boy with lukemia who lives in London and all he wants are cards from all over the world. She tells me that she verified all of the info and you can too. Open your favorite search engine and type in Jena 6 and hit enter. You will be amazed.

Excuse the language people, but where are our fucking priorities? I love dogs too, but why is the story of the Jena 6 nowhere to be found and Mike is all over the news. My boy David summed this up neatly when I began telling him the story by asking me, "What year did this happen?"

Be awed like I was as you read crazy stories, like how a man pulled a shotgun on some teenagers, they wrestled it away from him and ran away. They get charged with theft of the gun. The man who pulled the gun? He gets charged with nothing.

Please read the following very carefully, investigate, and take action !!

THE FACTS:

In a small highly segregated rural Louisiana town of Jena in September 2006, a black student asked permission from school administrators to sit under the shade of a tree commonly reserved for the enjoyment of white students. School officials advised the black students to sit wherever they wanted and they did. The next day, three nooses, in the school colors, were hanging from the same tree. The Jena high school principal found that three white students were responsible and recommended expulsion. The white superintendent of schools over-ruled the principal and gave the students a three day suspension, saying that the nooses were "a youthful stunt." Black students decided to resist and organized a sit-in under the tree to protest the lenient treatment given to the noose-hanging white students.

Racial tensions remained elevated throughout the fall. On Monday, December 4 2006, a white student who allegedly had been racially taunting black students in support of the students who hung the nooses got into a fight with black students. Allegedly, the white student was taken to the hospital treated, released, reportedly attended a social function later that evening.

As a result of this incident, six black Jena students were arrested and charged with attempted second degree murder. All six were expelled from school. The six charged were: 17-year-old Robert Bailey Junior whose bail was set at $138,000; 17-year-old Theo Shaw - bail $130,000; 18-year-old Carwin Jones--bail $100,000; 17-year-old Bryant Purvis--bail $70,000; 16 year old Mychal Bell, a sophomore in high school who was charged as an adult and for whom bail was set at $90,000; and a still unidentified minor.

On the morning of the trial, the District Attorney reduced the charges from attempted second degree murder to second degree aggravated battery and conspiracy. Aggravated battery in Louisiana law demands the attack be with a dangerous weapon. The prosecutor was allowed to argue to the jury that the tennis shoes worn by Bell could be considered a dangerous weapon.

When the pool of potential jurors was summoned, fifty people appeared, all white. The jury deliberated for less than three hours and found Mychal Bell guilty on the maximum possible charges of aggravated second degree battery and conspiracy. He faces up to a maximum of 22 years in prison.

The rest of the Jena 6 await similar trials. Theodore Shaw is due to go on trial shortly. Mychal Bell is scheduled to be sentenced July 31. If he gets the maximum sentence he will not be out of prison until he is nearly 40.

THE MESSAGE:

• As Chairman Julian Bond stated, "This is an American outrage that demonstrates the continuing shame of racial division in our country. Join us in making it one of the last."
• In light of the circumstances surrounding Mychal Bell's case, we urge all concerned citizens to support the call for a new trial.
• It is unacceptable to selectively enforce the law based on race. Prosecutorial discretion should be used in a fair and equitable manner.
• The Jena Six should be tried by juries that reflect the racial and ethnic demographics of Jena, Louisiana.
• The hanging of nooses is not a "youthful stunt" or "prank." It is a hate crime. Such hate crimes should not be tolerated at any school. Jena High School must establish a curriculum which promotes cultural sensitivity and understanding.
• The NAACP calls on Louisiana Governor Kathleen B. Blanco and Louisiana Attorney General Charles C. Foti to thoroughly investigate and monitor the trials of Mychal Bell, Robert Bailey, Jr., Theo Shaw, Carwin Jones, Bryant Purvis and John Doe. The Governor and State Attorney General should do everything in their power to ensure that these young men's constitutional rights are protected.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION TO THIS IMPORTANT MATTER!!!

If you have any questions, call Angela Ciccolo at the National Headquarters at (410) 580-5777

or type Jen 6 online and all the information you need will appear

Softly as if I played piano in the dark

Most of you reading this, won't catch that reference or even the reference that alludes to it that's more recent.

Anyway, I fell asleep on the couch last night. I was dreaming about something, when an external event made it's way into my dream and I awoke thinking that the world had ended. Very sick feeling.

Seems that an idiot trying to race to a closing entrance gate lost control of his car and took out a light pole and a pole with a transformer on it. This resulted in two very loud explosions. The first made my mind incorporate it into my dream and made me wake up disoriented in the dark. Then the power surged on again and the second knocked out our building and everything on the block.

I went on the balcony and watched amused as drivers couldn't fathom the idea that an electric exit gate wouldn't open to let them out of the property when the power was out. These people would actually WAIT at the gate for it to open. Finally I put on some shoes and went downstairs to see what had really happened. The fire department came and opened the emergency gates so the people waiting could leave.

I did run into two guys who explained what had happened. One of them was standing on his balcony talking on the phone. Of course, it was none of my business to ask who he was on the phone with at 4:00am, so I didn't. After a minute or two of conversation, one of them left and the other talked about waking up early to go make groceries. So I asked him when he left New Oelans, and he was shocked that I knew that. After I explained how, we laughed about it. He was a cool cat.

We chatted for a few minutes about NOLA and such, then decided that the show was mostly over. I went inside, now awake, with nothing to do. No TV, no Xbox, no DVD, so I played some New Super Mario and surfed the internet on my Treo until I got sleepy again. Waking up at 9:30am, I found that there was still no power. 20 minutes later it was on and now my task is to see if all of my food spoiled or just some of it.

Gain a little self respect

So, my boy and I decided to go to a Happy Hour on Friday. I guess I should really say that I decided to go and asked him to come too. You ALWAYS need a good wingman, but that's a topic for another blog.

Anyway, we go to Maxwell's for Happy Hour. This particular day, they have 1 cent drink specials. Let me let that sink in for a minute....... Yes. The drinks were really a penny. Of course, they had no change, and if you were silly enough to think that there was some catch with drinks being a penny, I guess you just paid a dollar and called it a day. At least that's what I did a few times. So yes, I was drinking white chocolate martinis that only cost a penny.

So, as time went on, we ordered food and chatted with the waitress. You also need a good waiter/waitress on your team too, but I'll cover that in the wingman blog too. While we sat there, I began schooling my boy in the exact same way that I was schooled. He is a self professed novice at the art of mingling. And while I'm in a constant race to get myself out of the game, I know enough to know what I'm doing.

Towards the end of the night (yes. I'm skipping a lot of stuff that either you don't need to know or that I'd never tell anyway) a couple of nice looking young ladies came in. They were having a good time together and were dancing with each other on the floor. After making a guess that they were probably together and not TOGETHER, I let my boy know what his plan of action should be.

Ladies, we need a plan. See, for us, we may take 20 minutes to gain the courage to come talk to you. Now if we are imbibing in that "liquid courage" then the equasion looks more like TA = (T)/(.5XD) Where TA is the real time to approach, T is the standard time to approach, and XD is the number of drinks you've had. So if we would normally approach you in 20 minutes, in the club, with 2 drinks in us, that seems about right. Now when you have your girls with you, that final number is multiplied by the number in your party TA = 2*((T)/(.5XD)). It kind of explains why the first dude to approach you is normally drunk. They get less and less drunk as the night goes on. They also get nicer and nicer since the nice guys drink less and tend to wait out the standard amount of courage time. Keep this in mind when you realize that the first 10 dudes to approach have made you bitter to the last few.

Back on topic. I gave him his suggestion to wait for a lull in their laughing fit and go ask both of them to dance. They, having decided which one would actually like him will then accept the dance. If it happened to be the one he liked, great, if not, he still got a dance with a beautiful woman. Win/Win, right?

They ended up posting up less than 5 feet from us, not near a table, wall, or anything. When he approached, he nicely asked them to dance. Once of them pushed the other toward the dance floor and said go ahead... They then hemmed an hawwed and finally said no.

After relaying the actual 10 second convo to me, my boy had the most insightful thing to say, "I'd have respected her more if she had just said no."

And so I leave it to you. Why the games? Why not just say no thanks and call it a day?

Can I please get a Source cover?

This phrase, from a Mystikal track is basically asking where the respect is. Everybody gets a cover from Source Magazine, but none for him.

So, my question is... "where is the respect?"

If you watch any TV, you may have seen one or all of my favorite commercials. They are the Geico Caveman commericals. Just hilarious without being over the top in the first one with no words, just him in the airport, seeing the "new" Geico campaing ad for the first time.

Anyway, now ABC has decided to make a sitcom about this same idea. Cavemen in modern day America and their day-to-day lives. Corey loves the commercials, so this should be great, right? Check out the press release from ABC.

Over the last hundred thousand years, mankind has evolved from primitive creatures into the sophisticated beings we are today, with the exception of a small minority who unfortunately didn't physically evolve.

Meet Joel, his younger brother Jamie, and his best friend Nick, three cavemen living in modern-day Atlanta. These cavemen continually find themselves at odds with contemporary society as they struggle to overcome their physical appearance and the accompanying stereotypes.

Joel is content with his life while pursuing the American dream, and has recently become engaged to Kate, a lovely Southern Caucasian girl. However, he must constantly vie for the respect of her conservative parents. Joel's relationship with Kate and his personal contentment are constantly being put to the test by Nick and Jamie's emotional demands..

Basing the show on their popular GEICO "cavemen" commercials, Joe Lawson, Will Speck and Josh Gordon (Blades of Glory ) have created a hilarious and thought-provoking social commentary on race relations in today's America.

Now, I've highlighted in red, some key items that I would like to point out. So, we (mankind) have evolved into what we are today except for a small minority. This minority lives in Atlanta and struggles to overcome the way they look and the associated stereotypes. Joel conforms to society and gets engaged to a white girl while trying to gain her parents respect.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Corey, you're reading too much into this. Well, did you read the last section? It's a hilarious and though-provoking commentary on race relations in America. If I'm reading too much into it, it's because it's what they intended me to do. I took the above DIRECTLY FROM ABC'S SITE.

I mean damn, in a world where you can count minority characters on one hand in major network shows and when they do, they are all grouped on one night. (Anybody ever watch the CW network on Mondays?) Now, not only do we not get a show, when they create a show about us, it's starring actors who play f-ing CAVEMEN!

Now, I have yet to see the show. You can watch a preview of it on ABC here It might be hilarious. It might be the new "Friends" and run for 10 years as a hit comedy (after ripping of the concept of "Living Single" but that's another tirade I won't get into now). Or it might be "Homeboys in Outer Space" Don't remember that show? Good.

I'll try to reserve judgement. But for now, I'll watch the commercials and wait for the end.

New Life is Wonderful

This is Cameron. The latest addition to my family via my little cousin. I guess I have to stop calling her little now, considering that she's 25 and has a child. Anyway... here, he's exactly 1 day old. As I am a supreme idiot, I forgot to bring my 5 megapixle digital camera and instead had to shoot this with my Treo 650. Didn't turn out too badly.

My First Blog Post

As this is my first post, I would try to say something prophetic or wise... No such luck.