Monday, July 25, 2011

If I Was An Octopus and I Didn’t Have to Go To My Slave?

An Octopus and a slave;  how does that work?

Well I'm feeling kind of melancholy today so my mind drifted to a place of ease and comfort. Now, to do this right I have to tell you about the strength of an ant. See, he can lift several time his weight. If I had the strength of an ant, I could lift my car out of  snow drifts or carry ten women across the threshold at the same time.

 If I had the legs of a centipede I would be an Olympic gold medalist, or some type of super hero.

Speaking of super heroes, I went to my barbershop the other day; a place where everyone is a superhero if you listened to the sweet sounds of lies that permeate a gathering place of black men competing for the one ups-manship award. . It's a place were haircuts are secondary issues. Well, some go to tell grand lies. Others go to talk about sports. That reminds me, why do men tell big bold faces lies about their sexual prowess? This one guy said he had sex with 3 women for 6 hours. Now come on, most men would probably agree that 1 hour with 1 women is a good days work. I don't know exactly what he meant by "had sex" but I put on my best Richard Pryor and told him that he should go right home and tell his wife that he's a big-fat-cheating-funky-liar.

Anyway, I told the crowd that I wanted to be an Octopus. Wait... since I never know who's reading this blog and the barbershop is generally a place filled with men, I can't really say what I told them, but just use your imagination.

Now stay with me. I don't like to hear people cry and whine. I think crying should be a personal thang. Nothing tightens my jaws more than someone whining about some dumb mess. I know it's good to let thangs out, but don't they have doctors for that? The more I watch the news and listen to people cry, the more I realize how grateful I should be. I don't know if many of you have read some of my personal posts but I've stumbled a few times, big time. Yet, through the storm, I now find myself at a place of complete comfort. Really ...I was telling someone this the other day. I could lose a few pounds but at the present time, I do not have any health problems.

Most individuals, to some degree, have relationship problems. Today I am cool with that. I don't have any babies momma drama. And money seems to be an issue that drives many people crazy. They seem to never have enough or feel a need to buy something bigger and better. I've been "nigga rich" but today I am not and I am cool with that, I'm just "rich" in several ways. Really, money issues do not get much of my playing time. I've learned to stay out of the lanes of others. I sleep between 7 - 8 hours a day and I have one of those deep freezers that can hold a half  a cow, and I got one in there.

I wonder what others feel or think when someone says their life is cool? Do you believe them, or do we like to hear more of the negative stuff - which might give us a sense of togetherness? I mean, when I heard  a person was doing real good, I sort of wished I could find that same happiness but back in my mind, I thought nobody can be that content with life. I've come to believe, that we believe and understand that which is in our own realm of possibilities or past experiences.

Anyway, there is however a price to pay for this new place that I now find myself. Struggle and pain can become a way of life. It's strange but it's easy to feel bored and unsatisfied when the fire and misery is gone. Insanity I know, however, complaining and worrying has a strange way of  duping a person into believing they are doing something construtive. At the very least, it fills up their day. The absence of mess and confusion sometimes opens the door to new temptations of a negative variety.  It give temporary pleasure. But since I've just about committed all of the 7 deadly sins and created a few of my own and lived to talk about them, and ask forgiveness for them,  I sometimes find myself wondering - what next? What's next?!?

Well, here's where I'm at. I was reading the paper the other day and stumbled upon an article: Commencement Wisdom, Messages Apply to More Than New Graduates.

The article shared a few favorite commencement addresses. It caught my eye because I love to hear the opinions of wise men. The following gentleman's experiences propelled me to turn my ear in their direction. Before I give their names, based solely on their words, see if you can guess who they are.  One is a president.

1). "Wake up and stop dreaming"

2). "Truth ultimately conquers prejudice"

3). "A calling of service to others"

4). "There's always more to do"

5). "Become God's partner"


1. Larry Page, Google founder - Michigan alumnus

2. Michael Kirby, Australian chief court justice - Indiana alumnus

3. Deere & Co. CEO Robert Lane

4. Barrack Obama, The President Of The United States

5. Bishop Desmond Tutu, University of North Carolina

Each message touched me. It's not that I could related (for the most part) to any of their personal paths to success, nor their personal lives.  Nope, I do not want anything they've "had" or "accomplished". They each talked about a bigger challenge after they reached a place that some would die for. I found something in each of the commencement addresses.

"The best reformers the world has ever seen are those who commence on themselves" - George Bernard Shaw

What would you do or become if all of your major problems/issues were moot points? If you could wake up and not have to go to your slave job, or work at all, wouldn't that be nice? How good would life be if you didn't worry about your lover, or a lover? Is money a constant issue in your life? Who would you be and/or what would you do if your storms produced no more tears?

Thursday, July 21, 2011


DAAAAYUM! That sign scared the mess out of me.

Then my mind went to a place few has ventured. What if the US got tired of black folks and decided to call them all in. Hold up now, let me finish, don’t run from the light. What if they preempted all programming and told all African Americans to report to "staging areas"?

Okay, we know most black people have 1 gun - or none - and 6 bullets. But, for the sake of argument, lets say several have a bunch of weapons. But see, I doubt that would be enough because, first, they would tell all white folk to get out of the cities and then bomb that bitch. You feeling me? That would corral a bunch of negroes. All your white buddies would then be nothing but white - not buddies - simply white. They sure wouldn't run to the cities with your ass. Let alone hide you in their attic. That "hide the darkie in the attic" is only found in the movies. The US couldn’t find Bin "Thin" Latin, but they'll find negroes hiding under the boardwalk.

And check this, I don't know if you've driven across the US, but if you have, you know there are miles and miles and miles of places that a brotha CAN'T hide. What? Don't believe me, ask the Indian about that. And believe me, there are millions of acres in the USA that a black face nor foot has never touched.

That reminds me. The American Indian had strong warriors on swift horses. You know, strong bucks to ride forward, spreading the news of the advancing white man with fork tongue. But apparently, they were not fast enough. So, what about communications? Do I need to say how vital a role that plays in any... ahh, war? A 30 day phone card is not going to get it. In fact, all communication systems are owned by white folks, including BET. So again, you can’t call your white “friends” and they are not coming if they could. Are you kidding me, they know the heart of the conqueror, and if history serve us well, it’s not pretty nor loving and surely cares nothing about the plight of black folks. So keep on knock and calling, “Leon”,  but they are not answering your call.

The Jewish community could blend in. Yep, all they have to do is change their names and take off that Star Of David. But black folks can't hide. Where are they going to run? If they run to the West or East, depending on their starting point, there's a great body of water called the Mississippi River. Uh huh, that's going to stop many right there. And, if some make it to the other side, they will not be met by the underground railroad. Not Harriet Tubman, nor Oprah, will be waiting for them with grits and kool-aid, nor a new car. Nope, cornfields, haystacks and shotguns will meet their advance.

How many airplanes do black folks own? Heck, how many black pilots do you know? Who's going to come to the rescue of the black man in America? Is the black man really needed? Affirmative action will not fly. The bill of rights and civil rights will be null and void.

Is the black man really needed? Oh happy day, there will be jobs for everyone - white. Unemployment will be at it's lowest. No more BET to wreck the minds of the inquisitive white kids. White folks could turn on the TV and root for all the white guys shooting 3 pointers. Dunking will be banned. There would be no more debates about immigration laws because everybody that even looks like they've ever kissed a dark skinned person would have to run for the hills.

I know this scenario might sound a little crazy but am just saying... is the black man needed in the US? Some might argue the contributions the black man has made, like jazz, the peanut and The Harlem Globe Trotters, but really? The history books will be rewritten - AGAIN! Who needs the black man to make more babies than they can afford, nor feed - huh? Who needs the black man to sell more drugs and increase the crime rate, after the white man ships those drugs to his shore? Why doesn't America take the black man out of his misery before unemployment hits the levels of Liberia? Heck, they're already killing each other, are they not? Should the black man get ready because isn't there a train a coming? Do we need another million man march or HBO special about the plight of the black man and the new plantation of debt? Should we call Cornel West and his boys to hold another round table discussion. Maybe we should just bitch and moan and cry and bullshit, while telling others what "THEY need to do"

Some folks are gonna make me lose my mind, up in here, up in here. They are gonna make me act a fool up in here, up in here. Yeah, some believe America can do without rap music too. To many blacks making money off that mess, right? That gutter bowl - jelly roll - bump yo booty, don't you know, is getting out of control - ain‘t it - huh? I don't know, is it me or does America really need black folks?

I think there's a train a comin'. And... that's my opinion. But, it is a fact that white folks have never loved people of color. Granted, there are some good white folks, but their voices will be silenced by popular opinion. The overwhelming major of white folks could case less about people of color. They use them and abuse them for their own satisfaction, and only a wannabe blind fool would believe they respect and love them. Yet, some black folks believe they don’t have a ticket to board that train to nowhere. I hear them every day.... "Massa, you's be right. Most of those African American are messing it up for me and you. I am not like the rest of those people. I talk just like you and I call a spade a spade!"

"Is that right Leon, you're black aren't you!?"

nachalooman said...

What you're talking about is what they call "GroupThink" when folks are afraid to speak out against the prevailing thought patterns of their "group". It's about having courage, Carey. There are some who feel Obama was suppose to create more concessions for them--jobs, houses, cars, whatnot. But maybe what Obama is really doing is destroying or at least forcing us to challenge our areas of "GroupThink" I think Erykah Badu tried to hip us to it.

I deeply appreciate your courage, and your storytelling ability--breaking-it-down ability! I hope you continue, brother! And I KNEW you wasn't going NOWHERE from this blogosphere!! ;-D

Anna Renee

BigmacInPittsburgh said...

You are in fine form with this post!

Big Mark 243 said...

Let me tell you something that you already know. You are a deep brother and I hope you totally take it as the compliment that it is intended to be.

A.Smith said...

You know another group of people we can learn something from are the Native Americans. Especially when it comes to keeping culture.Meanwhile, on a very surface level, what annoys me about these types of black people is that I feel like what they're really trying to do is say, "hey! I'm not black for real for real. you can like me!" It's not so much self-hate as it is...well... idk, but it's more (or maybe less) than self-hate... it's something else...   It's the same as whatever we'd classify a tweet I saw this morning that said, "the world isn't racist, it's classist and that's why I'm trying to make money..."

♫Hershey's Kiss♫ said...

Its been a while, but I love your blog posts. you said it. You hit the head on the nail.

Keith said...
Hahahahahahaha, Funny, but good points made there. I love this blog because you make me think..Even when I don't want to..Does America really need the Black man?But of course...America would have no rythem without soul...and God knows..America needs a soul.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
It doesn't matter what America needs... GOD said it and it is so!Love ya. To copy off of Keith, you got my brain doing stuff it don't want to do when it's home just chill'n (LOL)Ms. Butterfly

CareyCarey said...
@ Keith ...I tried to keep it light, but it was written to make us think.

freemanpress said...
I think the time when they needed us has long passed and now they don't know what to do. Since the Mexican cats have crossed the borders and taken all the sharecropping jobs we are in the cities. Now never forget taking care of sick people is also a money maker so as long as we remain sick we are a tax base to be exploited.They needed us to do the work they didn't want to do now they need us to be a exploitable people so they can make money. Overall we are not needed but they will never get their own folks to do anything but say they are entitled to the land. Can't grow with someone who feels they don't have to do nothing at all.

CareyCarey said...
Dang Freeman, you've made some very interesting points. Yeah, the only way some feel like they're up is to have others beneath them.

Mizrepresent said...
Well the way these folks are acting up around here...i wouldn't put it past them to give it a try. One friend of mine told me about how gun sales have went up almost 50% in the last couple of months. Somebody out there is stocking up on guns, and from the looks of it, it ain't us.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
Just checking in. Have a great weekend! Love ya crazy, I mean Carey (LOL)Ms. Butterfly

El Nuyorican said...
This shit was funny, but it also made some excellent points. It reminds me of a story, Space Invaders" by Derrick Bell in "Face at the bottom of the Well." In it, aliens come from out of space and promise America all the free fuel they'll ever need and some other shit, but the catch was they had to tuen over all black folk. The story is both funny and very insightful.This post reminded me of that story. I like your stule, bro! LOLEddie

CareyCarey said...
@ Miz ...I've heard similar talk of gun sales increasing. I don't know Miz, I 've seen plenty of brothas get killed AND they had a gun. If you had a gun I doubt it would stop another from killing you.

"But of course...America would have no rhythm without us." What Keith says sounds real...Perhaps every nation, ethnic group or culture finds it rhythm eventually. But without us, it would have taken America so damn long!

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
Just stopping in to say Hello and wishing you a happy whatever day you happen to check this day!Love and hugsMs. ButterflySending prayers your way!

A Lady's Life said...
Thanks for visiting my post:)I think America(and the world) needs good people. I think you find good and bad in all races, in all countries,in all religions. You can't just clump people and stereotype them. I don't like rap because of the swear words. I don't like women being disrespected by calling them bitches and telling them they need to go down.That is not love. It's not love that is going to last. Women are Mothers and no child likes to hear its Momma being called a bitch. Fathers have to look into the eyes of the babies they create and I know they love them but all children need and Mother and a Father and peace and joy. No child worries about money as much as they worry about not having parents. Money never made much of a difference to me as a child.:) Then the gun issue is disturbing. You know, if there were no customers for the drugs, the business would go away on its own very quietly. Why do people take drugs? There are so many other ways to get a high without it hurting you or anyone else.:)That's what I believe:)

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

WHY DOES THE BAD THINGS ALWAYS FEEL SO GOOD?: The Apple Does Not Fall Far From The Tree.

The preacher said, we shouldn’t be at the club bouncing it off the floor, nor engage in gambling, or lusting over someone's spouse. And then, absent of a few low tone amen’s, the church fell eerily silent. He also said, it serves no purpose to shout hallelujah if one is slipping and sliding in all the wrong places.

And my father asked, “who broke the dining room table?” . Although my brothers and I knew the names of the guilty gang of three, we didn't say a word.

Yes sir, it’s in those moments of butt naked truths, or the prospect of dire consequences knocking at our door, that we feign innocence and ignorance, or find little reason to cheer.

Well, to some degree, this post may render a few similar gut shots. But have no fear, because I’m in the same boat. I am a parent and a son, and I've been  places I don't wish to return to, so I have a piece in this pie.

First, this post was inspired by my conversation  with Tracy Renne Jones @ RiPPa‘s blog

It basically centered on those that are accused of being sellouts because they do not exhibit the stereotypical image of a black person, or speak differently than “them” or marry outside their race. Well, I said something about our black friends who try to separate themselves from our culture because they did not want to be considered a “darkie" like those other negroes. Tracy replied,

“I am NOT THEM DARKIES" Wow...if I didn't just hear my mother's voice when I read that sentence! *looks under the desk* My mother's motivation for much of my 'culturing' (piano class, Broadway shows, proper table etiquette..) had nothing to do with culturing me and everything to do with behaving differently from "THEM". It's complicated to be taught 'pride' of a race while also receiving social cues that instruct me to do the exact opposite. Eh, it worked for the most part.

Now, although my topic is not the same as Tracy's, there is a connection. The Apple Does Not Fall Far From The Tree.
Listen, in my early years I was a gambling man, Oh yeah, I shot craps and participated in various games of chance. Along the way, I noticed those who were running the games (house man), always came out on top. Then I figured out the intimate details of their “luck”. They always had the best hand (street talk for the biggest bank, and props), because in some form or fashion, they were cheating. Or at the very least, the odds were somehow slanted in their favor. I never liked losing, so I “borrowed” the cheating mindset. I took that with me when I entered the military (that’s me on my home page, sitting on the airplane).

Well, I didn’t lose anymore, but there’s a price to pay for adopting another man's lifestyle. In reference to my military life and the evil that lurked within, although I wanted to remain in the military after my first four years, I was denied re-enlistment. Even though I was never prosecuted for any type of crime, it was obvious that I was involved in all sorts of mess, some of which was illegal. I drove around in a brand new block long Oldsmobile Ninety Eight, and my hair was matted down with Murray’s Hair Pomade. I used that heavy grease to slide under the code restrictions associated with the length of a soldier’s hair. However, at night, when I was off duty, I'd blowout my hair to achieve a bigger afro than Sly Stone and Michael Jackson. So, I was not exactly military material. I had taken my street mentality with me. For many reasons, and for many people, that was not a good thing.
Looking back and taking a deeper look into this tree and fruit thang, I can’t help but look at the tree from which I came. But first, if I was still a gambling man (I am not, I’d rather put a quarter in a wash machine than a slot machine) I would bet that those who are racists or bigots, come from a household with a similar mindset. But it does not stop there.

I’d venture to say the overwhelming majority of people that find themselves divorced, separated, or in a rotten relationship, come from broken homes, a fatherless home, or a home were violence and mayhem was the soup of the day. But don’t make your move too soon, the house is still rockin, the beat goes on. I am prone to believe that if a person is overweight or never engaged in organized sports, it’s highly probable  their parents loved a heap of pig feet, and a pound of cornbread. Yep, eating until one’s gut quakes is a learned behavior.

Screaming and hollering to discharge our emotions is another character flaw we give our children. Yet, on the other hand, some adults take the passive route when they're in the midst of a disagreement with their mate. They become submissive and depressed as they hold their problems deep inside. And, our children are always looking, listening and learning. Unfortunately, while living in that environment, they seldom learn positive ways to cope with life and it's struggles, . How could they, surely not by watching TV. Sad but true, the majority of apples do not fall far from the tree.

But again, the beat does not stop there. Party time, party time, par-tay-time, boogie woogie baby, lets throw our hands in the air and party like mom and dad we just don’t care.

Yes sir, if I was a betting man, and if daddy & momma, either or both, loved to imbibe a little gin to make them grin and sin again, it’s a good bet that the apple didn’t fall too far from that tree. Listen, although my father was not a drinker, nor was my mother, many of their friends were. Since my parents did not object to the habits of their friend's, drinking and acting a fool, I couldn’t wait for their friends to come to our house, or we visited theirs, so I could sneak a little gin. I longed for the days in which I could take a little nip, so I could fall down and bust my stupid lip. But of course, since I thought I was slick and clever, I had to put a different spin on the getting high process. See, the seed had been planted that’s it’s okay to change how I felt by taking something other than water, to change or alter my emotions. But that’s another story, for another time. I took a different highway to my heaven.  As Marvin Gaye said:

Flying high in the friendly sky
Without ever leaving the ground
And I ain't seen nothing but trouble baby
Nobody really understands, no no
And I go to the place where the good feelin' awaits me
Selfdestruction in my hand
Oh Lord, so stupid minded

So now I am wondering how can we break the bad habits given to us by our parents. At first glance, they are obviously not something we even consider until we end up in some type of therapy, or are forced to change. I mean, who sits down and ponders why they are a Democrat, a baptist, alone, or a racist, and then considers their parents? Who among us says they are a screamer because their momma was? Who says they're "Big Bone-Did" instead of saying they learned their eating habits from their parents?

I know they say if you want to know what your spouse will look like in 30 years, you should look at their parents, but I am left to believe, that look, should go deeper than the surface, or physical attributes. Then maybe we can answer the question of why the bad things always feel so good and feel so right? I think the truth makes us feel uncomfortable. Unfortunately, if that truth does not need immediate and serious attention (in the mind of the individual), it's easy to cast away, until another day.

What tree did you come from, and what's dropping from your branches? I know that's a tough question... ain't it?

Monday, July 4, 2011


I believe the following song says so many things. It's not only and always about leaving a lover behind.

Sunday, July 3, 2011


Today I ran into Ali.

After visiting with my daughter, I was on my way to write another frivolous post, yet, Ali stopped me.

Going back: I was standing at the ticket counter of death. I had reserved a seat to MY final call. I was queued up and ready to go. When I heard my number called, I moved to the front of the line, dropped my head -- paused -- and walked away. It wasn't my turn. It wasn't my time.

Some years ago, I was down for the count. It was the 15th round of a major fight. I was fighting for my life. I was in a state that didn't honor the 3 knockdown rule. NO-NO, I had been kknocked down 100 times. I was in a state-of-mind that insanity ruled. Fear and disillusionment were the sanctioning bodies. They controlled the action in that ring - in my mind - in that arena. If the three knockdown rule was in affect, I wouldn't be writing this post.

Now check this, I am a big boxing fan. I am a huge fan of Muhammad Ali. However, just as my admiration for Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, my affection for Ali is rooted in the core of the man. Each of the individual are praised and admired for all the popular reasons. I've been moved by their deep moral and family principles and their fighting spirit.

"Say it loud, I am black and I am proud"

~ James Brown

MLK had an undying religious conviction. He was the epitome of a black role model with deep family values. At an early age, Malcolm X saw the horrors of racism and the inside of a penitentiary. Both men were married and fought for causes that were bigger than them. Each left behind a strong wife, and a road map to being a good man.

At the prime of his life, Muhammad Ali was striped of his license to box by the the government of the USA. Now how did a man go from being one of the most hated black men in America, to lighting the Olympic touch?

Long before it was popular to protest our involvement in foreign wars, Ali said, "Hell no, I will not go". Because of his decision to stand on his faith, he was vilified by the press and some people of his own race. His conversion to Islam drew fire long before the present state of affairs in Iraq and Afghanistan.

In the fight game, Ali fought the best of the best. He was an 8-1 underdog to Sonny Liston. He beat him twice. Ken Norton broke his jaw in two places. He did away with him as well. A white man by the name of Cooper knocked him down in the 4th round. He got up and finished him off. After a 5 year forced retirement, he came back to regain his title. Some of his skills had diminished but he fought on.

Joe Frazier stood in his way. They had 3 memorable battles. Who can forget the Thrilla In Manila? Ali was the last man standing.

The motherland called his name. George foreman stood at the gate. The Rumble In The Jungle found Ali with slower hands and less peep in his step, but his mind and heart were still strong.

The Goliath like Foreman was counted out in the 8th round.

Martin Luther King stood for civil rights. Malcolm X stood for black pride. Ali stood on his principles. They all were great men. They all stood strong while fighting for right.

I like Muhammad Ali, he stopped me today. The man still hits hard in so many ways. I was on my way to write a post of a different flavor. Before doing so, I found a serendipitous reward. I stopped to watch the documentary "Facing Ali". It was a knockout!

Like Ali, I was down for the count but it wasn't my time. I had to get up... someone needed me.

Saturday, July 2, 2011


I Loved Her.

Her words drew me closer. I couldn't wait to rest in her arms. Her voice had the mesmerizing tone of sweet drops of rest... a soft rain accompanied by an easy breeze. I called her my Goddess.

This is not a Harlequin romance novel. It's about meeting someone who had touched my heart. She was beautiful on the outside but her words were my aphrodisiac. She expressed herself with the fearlessness of a wise queen. Her voice, although soft, aroused my soul like the anticipation on the night before Christmas. Heaven must be like this, it surely must be like this.

I surmised that she could have chosen any man as her constant companion, which forced me to ask, why me? Women like that don't have to sleep alone. Why have I fallen prey to the sweet perfume of her voice? Could this be love, or is it my imagination. Is there such a thing as love at first sight, if so, it has it captured me.

I am a very cautious man. My history tells me to protect my heart as if it was the keys to my last dying breath. But I would relinquish those keys if I could forever stay in her bliss.

Oh stars, Oh God, what destiny does thine hold. Should I stop this mental agitation. Tell me why? Do I dream as a man that wishes on a star? Should I let her walk away? If I so dream, I wish to take her with me. I want to spend more time with her. More time to do it over and over again, and again, and again. If I could, I would, stay in her flow, her glow, that mystical world of wonderment.

Hurt is a man that has a dream, that he can't show, I wonder if she knows? I am going to lay down and dream. Again and again, I am going to dream of her! I have to dream because I want to go back to the way it was, because I don't love her anymore.

She was my secret lover, but I, not her's, and she spoiled my dream. I was captured by her stately grace, her rhythmic pace, but I found out she was married to a white man. I know, who knows what evil lurks in the heart of man, but I have to admit that I have a thang against black women that have white men as their mates. And see, she didn't even know me, yet I was enthralled by her outer beauty but most importantly, I was under the spell of her intellectual prowess. However, that love is now gone. Her words have been spoiled by the color of a man's skin. My prejudice has driven a wedge between me and my dream come true. She whispers but the love is gone.

Friday, July 1, 2011


I wonder how many black men are rooting for one of those white female presidential candidates?  What do you think about black republicans in general? There are a few things a black man can expect to happen if he does the following. Well, maybe I should say certain behavior makes others do the cockeye-twist-neck-jerk-what-did-you-just-say-my-black-friend-Jay?

Listen, ,I've been looking around the blogsphere. If I wanted others to look at me with a questioning eye I would write "OMG". But see, real black men can't use that one. They can but isn't that a chick's term. I've been walking around the blog world and since I can't say OH MY GOD, I'll just say, gawd damn.

There seems to be a lot of chest thumping in the blog world. It could be that I've just visited a few spots that ....well, you know, places were it's that kind of party.

Real black men wear a mustache don't they? I know there are those that like going O.J. all the way, but I have to admit that I would rather wear tightey whiteys than cut the hair off the top of my lip.

 Can a black man say he doesn't watch any sports? That's blasphemy ...isn't it? I don't know but it's tough being a black man. See, I can't dunk a basketball and I've never been able to pick up on the latest dance step until long after it's gone. I am still working on the flashlight and the buckhead bounce.

What about the myth that all black men are ...well, ladies, you know.

But you know what, I loved getting to a place in my life in which I didn't have to wear someones name on my clothes. Is that a black thang, you know, being poor but wearing a rich person's name on your clothes? Anyway, since I am no longer part of the flash and dash crowd, now I can just pick out something that fits. I don't care if it a shirt that cost 79 cents and there's a picture of a rooster on it, if it fits, it's mine.

Maybe it's just me. Can a real black man say he doesn't eat chicken wings? Many will admit that they've given up on the pig while others are secretly eating everything from his tooter to his rooter.

But check this, a black barber shop is a place where a black man better have his game tight. I've noticed some brothas stopping their cars a block from the barber shop to change the music. Ooooh yeah, they wouldn't be caught dead listening to Bailey Rae or Ameh Larnieux. Silly isn't it, but it happens. Yes sir, out goes Brian Mc knight, in goes Tupac and Biggie. Don't even mention driving up listening to Floetry.  Btw, I love Floetry.   Anyway, I once was joked in the barber shop because I had on hush puppies. But I capped back, I joked on the fool wearing the Scareface sneakers. Scareface tennis shoes ...are you kidding me?! The boy had Tony Montana's face all over his shoes. Must be a black thang.

Can a black man say he's a choir director without getting a strange look? Come on now, yawl saw Kat Williams in First Sunday. What were you laughing at, Kat Williams or the fact that you know someone just like him. I think I know the answer to that question.

Some roles are changing though. I was with a women that ask me if I would still be with her if she couldn't cook. I said, "come on baby, you know I feel for you, but a black women that doesn't cook is like a new car without tires, where are we going to go?". Seriously, do that make black women that can't cook? I love to cook, but I think that's always been okay for a black man to say he can burn with the best. Just the other day I asked a question about how to cook chicken wings and this one brotha broke in talking like bubba from Forrest Gump. He said, I's the chicken wing king, I stew'em, I's frys'em, I bar-bee-cue dem and I eat them by the boat load. But does a black man have to cook soul food? I am hesitant to say what I like to cook because I don't want someone knocking on my door and asking me for my soul brother card.

I think I'll play it safe today. I have to get a hair cut, so  I am going to pull out my Jordans' and a pair of jeans with someones name on the back pockets. I wouldn't be catch dead in a pair of Wranglers ...well, unless I was cutting the grass. Nope, am not going to wear my Levi 501's to the barber shop. I love the fit of 501's but it's tough being a black man.