Monday, June 29, 2009

BET - EBT - FOOD STAMPS - The Pigeon Drop & Three Card Monte!

I am a black man in America and I've been around. I've shared many of my life's adventures without real concern of what others may think of me. The beat goes on.

The executives at BET should be on the 10 most wanted list. I've been to the post office and saw the faces of those who committed crimes of various degrees, and for the most part, their faces don't always fit the crime. One women looked like my grandmother. One man had the appearance of that old white man who hung on the walls of most black churches - Jesus Christ. "Come on Carey, that's blaspheme". No it's not, it's the truth. What does a rapist or murderer look like? What's the appearance of a thief?  Well, many times they look like gold, honest John, the guy next door or the fine women in glossy magazines.

Before I continue with this true crime story and why I believe BET should be seated in front of a Grand Jury, I have a few shout outs. I have a few words of wisdom to all the haters and fence straddlers out there - they know who they are.

They are the ones that do not believe that hedging on their taxes is a crime. They will tell you that they've never had sex in the back seat of a car or had a one night affair. You can spot them. Their mouth is always fixed in the "yeah but" position. They are prone to say "while you're pointing a finger at another person", three are pointing back at you. I'd like to shout out to my naysay negro friends and tell them to take those fingers and shove'em up their dooky chute *lol*.

I continue:

Back in the day I would do short and long cons. Yep, I would travel the road and dupe unsuspecting people out of their money. I justified my deceptive ways by only playing on people that thought they were playing on me. It was a poor rationalization to do wrong but then it worked for me. It's in my past but let me continue. To them I looked like a sweet mark but the hunter always got captured by the game. One such short con game was called the ring game.

My ring game involved a beautiful expensive looking ring that was not a diamond but look alike. I had a Jewish friend that supplied me with all the trimmings. He owned a jewelry store and sold me merchant price tags and nice looking ring boxes for a very reasonable price. I wasn't the guy selling fake Gucci watches or knock-off purses, oh no. I was just a guy looking for a ring he had lost. I was the guy that was hurting because he had just lost the ring set that he was going to give to his soon to be new bride. White people were easy marks because they loved getting over on black people.

I never saw my unsuspecting prey but my "cap man" did. The setup involved a phone call, a bathroom and an innocent looking young black person. My partner would ask to use the marks restroom. It could be the restroom of a fine clothing store or a doctors office; basically any place were a person could use a restroom and money was around. Lawyers are the biggest shysters in the world and yet the easiest to con. I would call the spot and tell them that I was distraught over losing a ring I had just purchase. I told them I'd visited their establishment within the last hour. I asked if anyone had turned in the lost item and if not, would they check the rest room.
Well, my partner would appear from the restroom area gawking at "our" ring as if he had just found a new way to heaven. Prior to this discovery, I told the person on the phone that there was a reward for the ring. Now the game was on. I told them the ring was worth thousands and they didn't even have to tell the "young black youth" about the reward. I would even whisper the value of the ring, as if someone could hear us. I went on to tell them to get that ring back at all cost and I would repay them and give them a bonus and the reward. My "cap man" was good. He would resist giving up the ring until he had drained all the money he thought he could from the greedy mark. Heck, it appeared to be a no lose situation for the hunter turned mark. They had a ring worth thousands of dollars and at the very least a reward of $1000.00, plus a bonus. Some individuals would give up all the money in their purses and pockets, or that of the person they were working for because they knew money was just 10 minutes away. I told them I would be there in a few minutes. I said all that to say I recognize game and I don't like being pimp slapped.

BET is offering rings of diamonds and gold to our young minds. Music has always been a means to soothe our souls. Most love to dance and be around people of their own kind. BET has the game locked down. I do not know what's in BET's playbook but I know it's f**ked up. I have no idea what their goals are. Their intentions may be honorable, but do I need to say anything about the streets of hell and the paved streets of gold?

I can hear the knee jerks rattling in their chairs. I can hear the voices saying it's the parents job to monitor what our youth watch on TV. To those I again say ...blow it out your ass. Some fault my be placed at the feet of the parents but lets be real, many parents remember a different BET and therefore, they too have been hoodwinked into believing BET would maintain a standard of moral discipline. More so, BET is increasingly lowing the bar.

More importantly, kids will be kids and they love candy. They will eat candy and ice cream until their stomachs hurt. In this case, it's their minds, and their minds are hard to change once they've been corrupted. When I was a youth, I thought doing "the dog" was a dance on the wild side but I didn't see 2 young kids doing it on my television. I heard a few songs that said between the sheets but they sure didn't say what they were going to do in those hot sheets. They didn't tell me, or show me in graphic details how they were going to make someones toes curl. Well, not on my TV unless my uncle came over to baby sit and brought his girlfriend along. Now, they might drop in a porno tape and tell my brothers and I to go to bed, in which we did but we didn't.

If a women wanted to see a guys cheeks she had to go to a swimming pool, not watch lil'wayne's dang thang laying out above his belt line. Who want to see his nasty rusty ass?

BET has become the new food stamps. In some states the paper food stamps are gone. The new electronic food stamps are called link cards. In other states they are called EBT cards. I think those initials stand for Electronic Balance Transfer. But here's the deal, it's not money. You can only spend those funds on food. BET is serving a plate of mush. It looks good to some and to some it makes them feel real good; just like a drug. Doesn't that make BET a pimp or drug dealer?

Or maybe BET is like a gambling house that allows it's customers to wager a box bet. A box bet allows the customer to hedge their bet by winning even if the letters do not come out in the order chosen. You know, like if the winning number was 1-2-3, a person wins a little of the pot if their number was 3-2-1. Maybe Black Entertainment Television is playing on the fact that some don't care if they get BET - the straight bet, or will settle for a little of the pie; the box bet - EBT. Yeah, most gamblers think the big one is right around the corner. If the gambler's thirst is temporarily satisfied by their "ebt", a little bit of the pot, they can smile and buy a truck load of junk food, which is absent of all the essential vitamins to produce a good body and sound mind.

BET has become nothing more than a man standing on the corner playing 3 Card Monte. Keep your eye on the prize, the black Kings and Queens were there, but opps, now their gone.
Btw, that picture above is me doing something that's as dangerous as watching BET. A person can die doing that sh*t. I saw it first hand. I no longer work on high voltage power lines, nor watch BET, aka, Government Cheese.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

It's Miss. Jackson If You're Nasty ....I stand accused.

I was going to sit right down and write myself a letter and make believe it came from .....WHO?

I've been blogging for about 3 months. I've been an Internet debater for over a decade, so I've seen a few skirmishes - been in a few. They usually start with a small difference of opinion until one or the other finds themselves standing on a position they can no longer defend. The issue stops being the issue and the knives come out. Even if one of the persons later realizes they may have miss-read something or misunderstood something, there's generally no turning back. To support their new position (the person that felt slighted) they use words like "even so-and-so said" and "you damn skippy I am mad" as if that supports their reasoning for being upset.

Well, I was told that I lacked blogging etiquette for not linking to the proper page of another blogger ( I linked to her profile page). I didn't know that - now I do, thanks for the tip.

I may have missed something in our exchanges. So to be fair, I am linking to her blog and this is her rebuttal to my ....ahhh .....well, my post. I thought I was clear in my post but she felt differently. It's not pretty but I guess it's fair, check it out.

I yield the floor to Kimdom aka Kim ....

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Troy Davis, I Don't Even Know Your Name ...why should I call you?!

" The Troy Davis murder took place over 20 years ago and I'm guessing it was a big deal and high profiled at the time... I was still dragging around pom poms and attending high school dances" - Kim

This post is not an indictment of Kim or anyone else that's not up on the Troy Davis case. I wrote a post in which I questioned the legal ramifications in the Troy Davis case. My basic knowledge of the case wasn't sufficient enough in my mind to voice a constructive opinion, so I sought help. But here's the deal. Kim's original response to my post was ..."Hey Carey! I'm not from your area so I'm lost on the issue you are talking about ". Well, that took me a few places.

Again, this is not about Kim, it's about how we respond to issues outside our world. That world could be our comfort zone, family, TV viewing pleasures or our money. I questioned Kim on her original response (not my area) and it's my opinion that she got a little defensive. Hell, I watch what I watch and listen to what I listen to and it may not be of any social significance but it's what I do. She likes watching reality shows and sitcoms like "The Scanks In The City". She even watches "The Real Filthy Housewives". I am not telling her business; her recent post told me so. I'd rather watch floating bubbles in a bag of frog spit than to watch one of those shows but my daughter watches them too and she's a good person and a great mother. I question why Kim got defensive. She gave me a page of reasons why she didn't know and who didn't know. Was it the way I asked the question ...."You're not from this area?". Or is it something embedded in all of us. Has the struggles of being black in American rendered us incapable of discerning the difference between real concern and an attack on our blackness. I wonder if we, as blacks, react differently when questioned about a supposed "black Issue" by another black, than we do if that same question was asked by a white person?

I am from a state in which the black population is less than 3 percent. One summer I was playing golf with a white friend of mine. Out of the sky blue he asked me how my family arrived in the area. He said, "how did your family get here?". At first I didn't know how to take his question and I started to say ..... "by boat M***er F**ker, through the middle passage". But see, he had assumed that "his" family had arrived in the area long before mine. But, truth be told, his great granddaddy was still picking potatoes in Ireland when mine arrived here the 1800's - I digress. I never get offended or defensive when a black person asks me were I am from. I don't cringe when a black person asks the patented "who's your people". Why do I get upset when I am asked questions about race - by a white person?

Truth be told, I didn't know about the fate of Troy Davis until I started blogging 3 months ago. I am left to ponder a few rising questions. Is Troy Davis a part of my family? Is it important for me to stay abreast of national news? If so, who's fault is it that black "news" does not get to my part of town? Is it a crime that "tell-a-nigga-telephone" only applies to baby momma drama and who shot john?

Am going to borrow something from Tina Turner ...."What's love got to do with it"? Should I also borrow a line from the Ojay's ....."Love don't love nobody" ? Why should we continue to blog about Troy Davis. Shouldn't we have our minds on our money and our money on our minds .....and not Troy Davis - someone convicted of a murder nearly 20 years ago? How does his fate effect our lives? Are there bigger sitcoms to fry and better thangs to talk about. Don't we need to take care of our business and thus talk about issues that makes us feel so informed and comfortable. Hell, why should we talk about things in the past. Haven't we heard enough about slavery and days gone by. What's to gain by raising the social conscience to the fate of Troy Davis? Isn't he just another nigga?

Yeah, fu** that nigga, they gonna fry him anyway - RIGHT?!

Nawl ....I think the issue is bigger than that, I know it is.

I was arrested for a major crime that I did not commit. I was facing 25 years. Many turned their back on me, including my family. I am a black man and therefore I probably committed the crime - that's what many think. The police don't have a reason to lie - that's what many believe. Why advocate for someone that could be guilty? Many fear guilt by association. I've heard people say if it doesn't have a thing to do with me, why should I be concerned? Many fail to realize it could be them or a loved one.

My father was my little league coach. When he approached an umpire to protest a call, he told me he wasn't necessarily arguing for that call, he was arguing for the next one.

A few of my friends stuck around. Some individuals that I did not know came aboard. A letter campaign required a judge to take a long look at my case. He concluded that something wasn't right.

Is Troy Davis guilty? Is there grounds for further review? Although I asked the question, I know, without a doubt this case should be reopened.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Hey Obama, Heads I Win - Tails You Lose

I went for a ride on my bike today. Not one of those murder-cycles, oh no, a two wheel bicycle! I wouldn't be caught dead on anything with two wheels .....AND a motor. I love riding my bike because my lack of patience doesn't allow me to walk. While I am on my bike I can cruise at a comfortable speed. I don't like to go sight seeing in my car because if I slow down to catch a view someone might think I am a pervert or slowing to buy drugs. Plus, in a car I always feel like I have to be going somewhere.

I do my best thinking while riding my bike. Today I went on a different route. Well, I went on the same route but I did it in reverse. It was the same route but a totally different view. I saw things in a different light. That dog that always jumped out from behind a building ....I saw his ass coming this time ...I kicked him square in his slobbering lips. I finally saw the face of the women that always yells ..."hey baby, come back with a bicycle built for 2.

President Obama just can't seem to win and I've often wondered what his opponents are looking for. I suppose it goes with the job. There are some jobs I would never have. I would never be a black man on the Indy Car Circuit or any racing circuit. Are you kidding me ....that doesn't sound like fun to me. I mean, come on, me and a bunch of white guys driving in a circle at 200mph -- sounds like death to me. Am not saying the race would turn into dog pile on the Nigga but am just sayin' ....that's one job I'll walk on by. Some negroes take jobs so they can be the token black. There's plenty of names for those kind of guys.

I remember the day I was so happy seeing a black umpire at one of my baseball games. But let me tell you something (excuse my french) that motherfucker was a bitch. See, he must have been looking through the white man's eyes. If a play was remotely close, he would say, "the niggas out". Now, he didn't actually say those words but he might as well have. His view was obviously different than mine or any other black person.

As I mentioned, some jobs are harder than others. But there's this D. A in Georgia that says he has a hard job on his hands. Maybe he didn't say it but somebody did. I'll tell you a real tough job. Sitting on death row is about as tough as it gets. Listen, I don't know all the legal ramifications in the Troy Davis case but I do know that there's a sufficient amount of doubt in this case, that warrants a deeper look at the evidence. But here's the deal. It was said that this new D.A. is worried about his voters (white voters). Yeah, I don't know his job description but if he has any influence in the case I want to tell him to simply do his goddamn job!

I've heard there are federal laws designed to limit frivolous appeals in capital murder cases and some are arguing that Troy Davis falls in this category and thus has exhausted his appeal process. I don't know, but the article I read over at The implied that this new black D.A in Georgia - is in the road. My first thoughts were shit, that's a simple solution, just give my D.A brotha a bag full of money and tell him to let my people go. Ain't that the American way? Oh, I forgot, we are talking about a black man on death row - a "convicted" murderer.

Someone will have to clear this up for me. Many people are simply closing a blind eye to his possible innocence and instead, are choosing to argue against the death penalty. Death is the final straw but life in prison is no cakewalk. I want to know if Troy Davis did the crime or not, and who has the power to reopen the case? If that brotha in Georgia has anything to do with it, I want to tell him to do his job and forget about his voters. That's not a tough job ....that shouldn't be so hard - should it?

Heads I win, tails you lose ....Troy Davis has a tough job. He needs some help!

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Wang Dang Doodle ...all night long!

Koko Taylor, the Queen Of Blues has passed away. I didn't know Koko Taylor. I mean, when I first heard of her passing I couldn't place a face with the name or an occupation. Her best-known song was Wang Dang Doodle. I remember that song.

As I navigate through the blog world I frequently hear or see words of wisdom from those who have great opinions based on their past experiences. Some appear to have arrived and yet others have simply seen the light. Some have found God, others have new husbands. Take it for what it is but there's loads of "advice" in the blog sphere. However, what I frequently fail to see is the before. I think fear keeps us from showing the product (us) in it's early years. Comfort allows us to walk with pride in our new beginnings. "Look at me now but don't look at me back then"

The past will call our name and the past will tell us if we truely are walking in step with our lips.

There are some things I am good at and some things I can improve on. I am terrible with names, with faces, with time and with remembering certain events from my past.

Yesterday I was at a convenience store. I ran into a guy that said he knew me. Well, I will assume that all of us have places or spots in our lives that we would like to forget. There are possibly some individuals in our past that conjures images of bad times. I am sure women can relate to that. How would it feel to run into an old lover and not remember their name. For men it can be a badge of honor. For women it can be an ugly embarrassing reminder of past indiscretions. Sometimes the past finds us when we least expect it. It could be a glance from a familiar face or the voice of someone saying our nickname.
Meeting the aforementioned gentleman forced me to race back in time. When my past approaches me I have a few options. I can either be grateful for where I now stand or be resentful of the thing or person that is holding a mirror in front of me - a mirror that doesn't lie. I could see an image of a person that has digressed in life or even stood stuck in life. I could also pull out my comb and smile back at the mirror.

I told the gentleman that I didn't remember him. He gave me a quizzical look, shook his head and walked away. I was riding my bike that day. After I left the store I veered down a narrow street. A car approached from the rear. I pulled to the side of the road and got off my bike. The car stopped, a man got out. It was the guy from the store. He told me of our past. I am glad I met that guy - again. He said at first he didn't recognize me. He'd just been released from prison. He said he was looking in the store's refrigerators trying to decide between Bud Light and Milwaukee's Best and he heard my voice. He also heard my laugh. He asked me why I was riding a bike. I told him that it was a nice day and that I was riding to a friends house. He paused and said you've changed. I said thank you.

There was a time I loved doing the Wang Dang Doodle ...all night long. Doodle dang thang thang ....bring it, I might have liked it. I didn't know Koko Taylor so it's doubtful she wrote that song for me. I am going to say she did. See, she also sung another song ...."What Kind Of Man Is This". Maybe Koko knew that I sung the blues - literally- a few times. Yep, she must have known that one day I'd have to ask myself what kind of man .....?

Our past will make us strong or make us long for the good ol'days.

Has your past walked up and reminded you of what coulda-shoulda -woulda ...did happen? has your past walked up to you and said "hello, remember me?"