I feel you Aretha. Without respect, a man isn’t one. Lack of it will always lead to a disastrous conclusion. Me? I’d take respect over fame and money anything day of the week.
So. What exactly is the correct path to follow when there’s a personal affront to your manhood? Wisdom dictates removing yourself from said situation. Easy if the assailant is a complete stranger, not so easy if you’ve known the individual for awhile and their viewpoint of you has changed for whatever reason. A little tougher if it’s a long time friend or family member.
Yeah, you can communicate and talk about it, but since no one’s budging, you’re back to square one. This is why brothers don’t speak to one another for 15 years a pop, or cousins only visit every other holiday. It also affects marital bliss.
So what do you do, when you are bred with a ceiling-less pride and taught to be respectful and expect it always? When the nuclear arms talk fail utterly, and war is imminent…what do you do?
It comes down to our primal responses: Fight or Flight. I’m not speaking a “physical” fight (not this time). But a fight aimed at getting the respect you deserve. Or do you take a hit to your manhood, the very core structure of who you are, and concede.
……and I ain’t about to write a damn song asking for it either.
Mid-term elections are here. Got your condoms and K-Y? You’ll be needing them….because politicians are about to rain down an orgy of spins, mud slinging, baby kissing, hand shaking, and leery smiling promises, only to completely renege as soon as they get in office. They should skip the $200 hundred dollar fundraiser dinners and take us right to the hotel, because you KNOW what happens next.
The campaign trail is nothing more than a glorified lap dance across America. “If you have money, I’ll show you what I MIGHT do for you.”
No one can say I’m not a Patriot. I’ve served this country proudly during my tenure in the United Sates Navy. But what the hell happened to the United States Congress? I remember how the Senate and the House of Representatives USED to be. Now, Congress is just one large brothel. Everyone is screwing and/or screwing over everyone else…literally. Let’s see if I have this right: U.S. taxpayers pay their salary, Congressmen in turn, listen to our needs in earnest, then decidedly do exactly the opposite. Sounds like a bad night in Vegas if you ask me.
Oh, and if you think for one second that the parties aren’t secretly working together behind our backs, you’re naive. Someone explain to me why as a nation of voters, there is only a two party system…waitaminute didn’t there used to be more? I wonder what happened to them? hmmm, go figure.
The President? figurehead, scapegoat, fall guy, patsy, mark, sucker….I could go on, but I think you get my meaning. He does nothing. He can suggest until he’s blue in the face like the Na’Vi from Avatar. Don’t believe me? ok…the military: controlled by the Joint Chiefs of Staff. the Prez doesn’t make a move without them. Laws: nope. He can’t pass a bill unless Congress allows it. (and of course Congress is bribed by whoever has a lot of money, they’re called lobbyist.) So…what exactly is he doing again? Nothing, but misdirecting your hate. Or love , if you’re into that sorta thing. You sitting down? We haven’t had a real president since Kennedy. And “they” shot him for it. Oh snap, they shot Lincoln too…and a warning shot was all it took for Reagan to play along with the program.
Rape is termed as sexual intercourse with another person WITHOUT that person’s consent. The way we’re getting screwed, somebody needs to press charges on the House AND the Senate. It’s all about money. It always was. Scratch that, no it wasn’t. “WE THE PEOPLE” use to mean something. So much so that our forefathers began the constitution with it. I am going to quote something from Franklin and Jefferson to some of you unread denizens. (pick up a history book sometimes and stop reading People magazine.)
“I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous than standing armies… if the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of currency… the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprave the people of their prosperity until their children wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered.”
“I am the most unhappy man. I have unwittingly ruined my country. A great industrial nation is now controlled by its system of credit.
We are no longer a government by free opinion, no longer a government by conviction and the vote of the majority, but a government by the opinion and duress of a small group of dominant men.”
Wow….we are soooo fucked.
Oh, one more thing: ALVIN GREENE?!? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU SOUTH CAROLINA!?!? SERIOUSLY? IT’S PAINFULLY OBVIOUS SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THAT DUDE. THE ENTIRE STATE CANNOT NOT BE THAT BLIND. DID YOU GUYS START UP INBREEDING? SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH HIM!!!!!!! GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.
It’s hard enough to deal with hidden agendas and the proverbial knife in the back, but when you’re forced to endure the “crabs in the barrel” attitude from your own people, it really stops you in your tracks and makes you take a hard look at society, culture and regional environments….or maybe, that’s just me.
The Mason-Dixon line isn’t the only line drawn that some southerners secretly take pride in. Economic status, has always been a line that separates us…from a financial standpoint anyway. And when you successfully make that jump into the next tax bracket, you leave behind a few scratching heads wondering “how’d he do that”? That wonderment (also known as ignorance) turns to resentment. The end result? You now have a hater on your hands.
Hater ~ a person who cannot be happy for another person’s success. Instead of being happy, they make it point of exposing the person’s flaws. Their thought process isn’t really hate, it’s to knock that person down a notch.
Now, try breaking a few racial stereotype and see what happens. As a black person, go rock climbing. Or as a white person, become a rapper. Depending on where you are regionally, you’ll be known as “selling out”, or acting something that you’re not. People are creatures of habit. Change upsets their conformity (which is why a certain political figure is fighting a losing battle). When they see “different” then something must be wrong. Are we really hard wired like that?
Like I said, crabs in a barrel….my friend Anthony is an up and coming cyclist. He’s pretty good. But because cycling isn’t seen as a “black” sport, he’s operating outside of the known stereotype, he gets accused of being something he’s not.
While visiting family back home, I ran into a childhood friend. After reminiscing a bit, he pulls me to the side and asks, ” Hey dawg, so how long were you locked up for”? See… for this imbecile, military training and 14 years of bodybuilding resemble working out in the penitentiary recreation room.
This is a very large world we live in. Get off your close-minded, prejudiced thinking, one tracked, “I eat the same thing for breakfast everyday”, asses…and experience something new. Talk to someone different. Walk another route. Stop wallowing in your own ignorance and for God’s sake stop educating yourself via television.
through playing with y’all…..damn.
Any other day, I’d bypass this subject and wouldn’t think twice about it. I’m sitting at home sick as a dog, channel surfing. I see the Tyra Banks Show (damn, she is still fine!) about women loving men with big bellies. And then the subject was broached on Facebook. So I have to ask ladies…REALLY?
Because I heard a lot of lies. lies. lies. Maybe it was to save face, or maybe it was the fact that they no longer consider their lover’s body part of the equation of love. Maybe it’s all about the dollars and to hell with the body. I don’t know, I’m just trying to gain a little perspective.
See…I know without a shadow of doubt that some women don’t like skinny guys. I used to be just that. Being skinny as a rail, trying to talk to a dimepiece is a futile attempt no matter what your charming smile or winning looks have done for you in the past. Some women don’t roll that way. They want a physical man who can handle himself and be able to bring food to the table. I get that.
But beer bellies? I’m heavily into the gym/fitness thing and I am a pretty sizable guy. At 42 years old, 232lbs, I still have no gut. Am I to believe, I’d lose out to the fat guy at the end of the bar with a bucket of Natural Light beer? To quote the fictional senator Clay Davis from HBO’s the Wire, “shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”
Muscle>Fat everyday, all day.
Guys, PLEASE do not fall into this sitcom reality TV show/facebook tomfoolery. Get your asses in the gym. Nevermind what women think….ok scratch that(what was I thinking), consider your own health for a minute. Abdominal obesity can kill you (indirectly). Not to mention affecting the lead in your “pencil”. It’s a sure sign that your estrogen levels are rising. And I’m hoping I don’t have to break THAT one down to you.
Our abs are quite useful. When you find them again, you can email me and thank me for getting rid of your back pain and improving you sex life. Abs act as a stabilizer for your torso and a gyroscope for your….hell, if you didn’t know all this time, you might be outta luck on the latter.
Ladies (just the ones that like big men), tell your man the truth, yes you want a big man for the comfort and joys of life. One that can also handle himself and protect you. A guy that can be that “blanket” you want. You don’t want a guy who runs around making jokes about his “tool shed”. Encourage your big man to go walking, ease him into the cardio. Before you know it, he’ll be able to “see” himself again and won’t have to reach blindly for it.
Am I too harsh? Probably. Am I an insensitive ass? Definitely. Listen I know there are conditions which prevent some men from exercising and/or eating right. To those guys, I’m sorry…this isn’t meant for your eyes. I’m strictly referring to those 30-40 somethings who are fully ambulatory yet down kegs of beer at happy hour, talking about “yeah I’m gonna start working out again”. Meanwhile their wives and girlfriends are on the Tyra Banks Show talking about, “Tyra, my big bellied man is putting it down”.
I am not a movie critic. Nor do I express the desire to become one in the near future. But when filmmakers of the remake start to pull an R. Kelly on it’s audiences SOMETHING has to be said.
I don’t even know where to start first. Oh, wait…yes I do. WHERE IS THE 3D?!? Did I really just spend extra money on a feature that enticed me in the first place, only to see a handful of scenes ACTUALLY in 3D? At some point in the movie I snatched the stupid glasses off and watched normally. It’s gotta be a new plot to make people sit and look like asses with ineffective horned rimmed glasses on. Some producer is laughing his ass off as everyone becomes honorary members of the Geek Squad.
After realizing I’d been R Kelly’d (if you really have to ask, you should probably go lie down, its past your bedtime), I noticed something else: This movie is the “cliff notes” of the original in 1981. You know how you fast forward x 4 shows on your DVR? That’s precisely how it felt watching this movie.
To the average movie goer, It’s an dumb plot, slightly action packed CGfest. For me I felt duped, let down, my intelligence insulted, in other words, pissed on by the director of this film. I’ll have you know they actually made shit up totally incongruent with mythology. Any fan or student of Greek mythology will let you know right away that Medusa IS NOT a Titan. She’s of the Gorgon familial. What? I wasn’t a muscle head all my life, I kept my head in books. Greek Mythology was one of them.
One more thing: In the beginning of this movie they narrate to you the relationship between the Titans and the Olympic gods. The Titans are the fathers of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. They even tell you that Hades created the Kraken in order to defeat the Titans. If someone can point out to me a Titan clashing against anyone in this movie, I’ll pay you cash.
If my memory serves me correctly I can name a few Titans. Kronos, Hyperion, and Rhea. They are a few of the popular ones not in this movie. This movie was essentially about Zeus vs Hades with a frigging lightsaber thrown in for good measure (no I’m not making that last part up).
I wish I had two extra hands so I could give this movie 4 thumbs down.
To Regal Cinemas, YOU FAIL SO HARD ITS INEXPLICABLE! UPGRADE YOUR STADIUM SEATS AND HIRE PROFESSIONAL CLEANERS! Movie theaters aren’t supposed to smell like nursing homes. And anyone 6′ft and above has no leg room.
He’s coming back to the game. And as much as his peers will hate it, they will also welcome him back with open arms. All while making snide comments behind his back. No, it isn’t Brett Favre and it sure as hell ain’t Jordan. It’s Eldrick. And before you get your panties in a bunch asking who Eldrick is, I’ll tell you.
Eldrick Tont Woods…affectionately (and intimately) known as Tiger. Now, there is absolutely nothing about Tiger Woods that I could expound upon that the media hasn’t already filleted and gutted a million times already, except for one thing. Why he got caught. (no, not why he did it, why he got caught).
Tiger Woods is an island unto himself. That kinda makes it hard to do dirt when you’re visible from the weather channel’s satellites. Secondly, he went against the grain of every celeb/athlete’s mantra. He had no Entourage.
Entourage (read: boys who you pay and trust to do YOUR dirt and take the fall). These people are made up of people you know before the fame and fortune and when the shit hits the fan, will gladly scoop it up.
Celebs with entourages usually have a bad image of boozing party hounds, so Tiger refrained from having one, not realizing their true purpose. Damn, hindsight’s a bitch ain’t it?
But let me make myself really really clear. In no way do I condone Mr. Woods infidelities. He was stupid and got caught with his hands, feet and who knows what else in the cookie jar. Apparently, he thought he was a college frat boy. I remember my college days, (barely). I felt unstoppable. I vaguely remember my mother mentioning something about me burning out before I turned 25 (guess what mom, it was sooner…).
I didn’t have an entourage but I had friends I trusted impeccably. Question is, who does Tiger trust? It’s kinda funny though, because real tigers hunt solo, at night and ambush their prey. The two legged tigers we know use Patron Margaritas….or cereal.
If only he had one good friend to say “I don’t think its a good idea, let’s go” We wouldn’t be reading about all this nonsense now. But you know what, it’s not all his fault.
Let’s back up a sec. So the wifey had no idea? She was clueless? Yeah right, whatever. If the handwriting is on the wall, you just don’t apply a fresh coat of paint. Let’s not forget this has been going on for years, and she just now decided to bash his head in? A one eyed man with a cataract could see she didn’t care what Tiger did UNTIL it was about to become public knowledge.
So why are people so hellbent on what Tiger is or isn’t doing? Americans (some of us) are boring, mundane hum drum people who live their lives vicariously through someone else. Everyone wants to shake up their lives and do something wild and off the cuff but is afraid to. That’s why Vegas is so popular. What? you thought it was because of the casinos? Kill yourself now and help the census.
People like to commune socially. That’s why everyone is in everyone else’s business and personal affairs. And when celebrities and/or an athlete’s business come to light…oh boy, the fireworks fly. Tiger’s affairs were, socially speaking “a multiple orgasm” for the media and it’s endearing public.
The man liked to get his multicultural penis wet. He’s also given billions in charity benefiting children. Does this make it right? Hell no it doesn’t. Not at all. But tell me…what has your trifling baby’s daddy contributed other than his seed?
Stop casting stones. Welcome back Tiger.
In less than 12 hours I’ll age another year, and yet I am completely unfazed. All the rhetoric surrounding birthdays is designed to do what exactly? The cakes, the parties, the sheer drunkeness (if that’s your kind of thing) is supposed to be a celebration of life? Or…is all the fanfare and festivities just a mere distraction from what you should be doing. Self evaluation. a gut check. I like to think of birthdays as milestone markers where I take out my compass and see what direction in life I’m headed in.
My friends think that I become a somber cynical rattlesnake the days surrounding my birthday. The truth… my eyes are wide open to everything. In my deepest moments of self reflection, I see things from an “outside looking in” standpoint where I become super critical of myself and the world as I see it. All the facades, all the bs we normally take on the chin, all the societal dances that we do, all fade away for me during this time. I gotta tell you, it’s all funny as hell. Straight up comic relief. I can’t help but to laugh at the lengths we go through. Why? to get a job? to get a date? to get the respect you deserve? to be someone else’s idea of a “good” person? Every year, I take a step away from the “norm”. And when I look back, I say to myself, “what the hell was I thinking?!”
Man, why couldn’t I have had this mentality 20 years ago? We all say it, Hindsight is 20/20. I’ve actually come to realize that wouldn’t have been a good move for me. I know now that it was, and still is the journey not the destination, that’s where all the fun stuff happens. The path lesser walked. Google maps ain’t gonna get me there.
This upcoming year I’m going off-road. See ya in 2010.
PS. Shout outs to the drunken Christmas carolers of Middleburg, Florida. FYI, ghetto rednecks, booze and a tortured version of “Silent Night” is not a good look. lmfao. WHO FRIGGIN CAROLS THESE DAYS?!? I should add…with sincerity. I still love you guys tho…
I’m really trying hard to be as unbiased as I possibly can when I say this: Ladies…desperation is not a good look. I should probably elaborate a bit more, “being desperate in getting a man” is not a good look. Yeah, I know there are guys who are just as desperate, but I’m not one of them and I’ll be damned if I hang around those losers, so I ain’t writing about them…yet.
I can smell it you know (no, not the Dolce & Gabanna or that Avon knockoff), the desperation. Seeping outta their pores like next day tequila. That 4th quarter hurry up offense to score…A woman’s game clock, it’s a shame there’s no overtime…. Ovaries, apparently are like time bombs. You gotta use em before they explode. Huh, who knew?
Almost every time I’m out, I get that look. You know the look I’m referring to: that extra linger-look away-then look again-smile look. It’s THAT look men love to get. It brings back that untainted school boy in all of us. That “yeah, I’m the sh*t” feeling.
It’s the wild eyed, “I haven’t had any sleep because I can hear my fallopian tubes cracking” that scares the bejesus out of men.
I had a T-Pain experience at Chili’s the other day. Hanging with the guys, killing the 2 for 1 all night drinks specials when the bartender says “a lady is buying you a drink”. Cool, I turn down nothing but my collar…
It happened in slow motion (at least for me it was). I saw the approach, I saw the smile, I saw the switch in her hips that screamed “I’M FERTILE”. Then I saw the look of disgust when she caught the light’s reflection from my platinum diamond wedding band. It was like someone had messed up her $85 dollar perm. She wasn’t even cordial when I offered to return the favor. Maybe it was the walk of shame back to her table or the giggling schoolboys that my friends turned into.
Most of all, I’m sure it was the disappointment. I felt bad for her in a sense. She looked weathered/tired in the dating game. You know how desert travelers see mirages and get that burst of excitement and energy only to find out it’s nothing there? Yeah, like that.
What can you do? As long as we have the genetically encoded primal need to procreate there will always be trials in finding a mate. That goes for both men and women, but its just funnier to me when women have to do “the walk of shame”. Divine retribution? maybe.