Sign of the times


There comes a time when people must become aware of problems that seem to not be getting solved. The problem I am referring to is racism. One of the reasons that racism is a problem is because a large portion of America believes that the problem ceased after the civil rights movement. I will admit that the opportunity for African-Americans and other minorities has increased exponentially in the past 50 years, but the question is does opportunity equal advancement? I don’t think so. This past week Don Imus was fired from CBS radio for his disparaging remarks against the Rutgers University women’s basketball team in which he referred to him as “nappy headed ho’s”. Mr. Imus was fired from his job, and I should say reluctantly so, because this is not the first instance in which Mr. Imus wielded words in a racially offensive context. What’s more alarming is the staggering rate of publicly racist acts that are still occurring in this country. Michael Richards, better known as Kramer from “Seinfeld”, went on a racist rant in the middle of a comedy routine. Serena Williams was heckled by a fan shouting racist obscenities at her. Soccer superstar Thierry Henry has had bananas thrown on the soccer field and been called all sorts of bestial epitaphs. All of these events are relatively recent. The question that I want to try to answer is how can this adverse behavior be remedied?
I believe the first thing to realize is that the language of race and race politics is highly problematic. Let’s examine the word “minority” first. Its context promotes a differentiation between two groups. Separation leads to thoughts of differing ideologies and snowballs into separate conditions and social standards. The other problem I have is saying “race”. Whenever someone asks, “What race are you?” how should one reply? There is only one race and that is the human race and people forget that from time to time. Ethnicity is a question that has more validity but still is a loaded question. What difference does it make? People are people. African-Americans, Caucasians, Hispanics, Asian-Americans, Native Americans, and every other subgroup all have politically correct titles to identify them to one another. I always just saw myself as Duane, nothing more, nothing less.
Another factor that I believe has contributed to the continual existence of race prejudice is a moral flexibility with pop culture. I love to laugh as much as anyone else but there are jokes that I see on television that are getting laughs for all the wrong reasons. Carlos Mencia, who isn’t even Mexican or named Carlos, perpetually insults Hispanics calling them “beaners” and how they conform to negative stereotypes. Dave Chappelle, who I think is hilarious, took it too far sometimes. His final season of the Chappelle show was not funny or witty. It was cruel and his attitude seemed to be defeatist. He acquiesced to the demands of his fans to make jokes at the expense of African-Americans, Hispanic Americans, and Caucasians. I love to watch the Charlie Murphy true Hollywood stories, but the Niggar family? Think about it. Moreover, look at the way that African-Americans are marketed in pop culture. When was the last time you saw an African-American scientist on television? Moreover, when was there ever a Native American doctor? An Italian-American who wasn’t a cook, gangster, or tailor? A Hispanic American, besides George Lopez (who rocks by the way), who had family values? Take a look at BET (Black Entertainment Television) and observe what you see. How can one gain respect if one doesn’t respect oneself? I asked my students what films they really liked and many said Pootie Tang, Baby Boy, and Don’t Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood. Let’s just say that Ossie Davis and Dorothy Dandridge are not looking down and smiling at the shape of things.
Education is the key to reform. Society must stop teaching stereotypes. I once heard the argument that prejudice is a natural reaction to the human condition. That is absolutely ludicrous. I will admit that there are certain reactions that people have when put in an environment. I just do not believe that children are born having a propensity for hatred. What do babies hate? Naps and pureed vegetables. That’s about it. The previous discovery leads to an even bigger question, if children are not born with a natural disfavor towards certain groups of people, why would someone teach them to inhibit these feelings? Why would someone teach hate? Hatred is a poison that has no cure. Racism is even more ridiculous because there is nothing to hate. The melanin in my skin does not make me too much different than someone else. On the genetic level, human beings are remarkably similar. Even if there is a small sense of satisfaction at accomplishing some act of violence or cruelty to a group, that feeling will never compensate for the emptiness that is created by carrying that burden around.
I do not want to make it seem like it is only Caucasians that are capable of racist behavior. African-Americans can be VERY prejudiced. I have members of my own family who have a high disdain for Caucasians. I try to reason with them and explain that people are the same. A few of my dating choices have sparked some interesting dinner conversation. The best I can do is try to love my family the best I can. Acceptance would be great but I would settle for understanding.
Perhaps another factor in prejudice is that the goals are too lofty and utopian. Not every Caucasian will like every African-American and vice versa. I know this. Affection would be phenomenal but respect is the key. Reciprocity of respect is the optimum goal that can ever be achieved from any relationship. It is the basis for communication between any two parties and leads to sustaining peaceful atmosphere. Morgan Freeman said at the end of the film Seven, “The world is a good place and worth saving. I agree with the second part.” So do I.

The Circus of Life



After an extended hiatus, I have been asked to return to the world of blogging to try to dissect the impossible science of…………..the bar room hookup. I know it seems infantile and many who try to accomplish the feat fail because of self-fulfilling prophecy. Let’s get a couple things straight off the bat. If one goes to a bar one should expect people who also enjoy going to bars. I always find it ironic when someone wants to change a behavior that was once thought to be so admirable. When most people go to a bar, especially men, they try to do a “lap” and survey the surroundings. It is almost like doing reconnaissance work in the military. If you want to launch a successful campaign, you must be aware of your surroundings.
Those surroundings include things like male to female ratio, number of people total, attractive people, attractive single people, attractive single horny people, what entourages are present, big girl posse (I will explain later), drink specials, and of course music selection. Beauty is subjective so it is hard to really determine what looks “hot” to a specific person. I, and I assume others, like to work on a two number system. If a person is a “1” you would have sex with them. If a person is a “2” you would not. I know this comes off as primal, disgusting, and low (and believe me it is) but there must be a social hierarchy to try to eliminate “lesser” options. Bars are the ultimate microcosm of Darwinism. It is survival of the fittest. Notice I did not say the nicest, fairest, most honest, or most ambitious. Is it right that the aesthetic component of a person takes precedence over substance? No, but let’s face it; attractive people are universally more successful in life.
What is the driving force in trying to make a connection in a bar? Is it love? In my time on this planet I do not think I have met any individual who goes to a bar to find love. I’m not saying that love is not possible. It is just not probable under the circumstances. Most people just want to meet someone, hence the term “meet” market. The reason why I say bar relationships create a self-fulfilling prophecy of failure is because of the components of a bar. People at bars generally like to indulge in alcoholic beverages. It is cool to have a cocktail or two, but be aware that you are readily consuming depressants, which does not bode well for fostering positive interactions. Also, there is the inevitable Shrek complex. At night, people can look a certain way, but if you see that person in the day they may transform from a GQ cover model to the lovechild of a wookie and a duck-billed platypus. As a friend once said, “She looked good from a far, but she was far from looking good!”
There are some practices that I notice at bars that I feel necessary to include in my diatribe. The first is the Captain America routine. Basically what this entails is someone, usually female, grabbing a member of the opposite sex to assume to part of a girlfriend/boyfriend just to get a potential suitor off their back. What kind of a fucked up charade is that? I’d rather be told to go “fuck off” than to have my intelligence insulted by an act of artificial companionship.
The next practice I see, and it is more of a running joke is the pick up line. There is no such thing as a pick up line. People, men and women, usually can make up their minds about whether they would potentially take you home before you can even open your mouth. Pick up lines cannot change someone’s mind that much. The best pick up like is “Hello. How are you doing? Could I possible buy you a drink?” Cheesy pick up lines are fun to use, but how effective is “Want to grab a pizza and fuck? What, don’t like pizza?” It probably has the same effect as, “Fuck me if I am wrong, but is your name Helga?” Or my personal favorite, “How about you sit on my face and we just see where the night takes us?” I have been in moods where I have no desire to pursue actual companionship and just want to act like a dumbass and use those lines, but I have never said them in earnest. If you don’t give a fuck, use a cheesy line. You might even get a mercy smile out of it.
When I first started going to bars, I would always find myself amazed by guys who came off so cocky and brash hooking up with girls all the time. Why do assholes get laid all the time? I think I have come up with a thesis for this quandary. Assholes don’t give a fuck, therefore, their moral flexibility grants them a force field against rejection. Rejection is not fun. But if one can augment the reaction to said rejection the meaning isn’t that bad. The hubris of the asshole allows him to have an infinite amount of possibilities, and as any economist would tell you the chances for success in any market increase significantly the more you participate. The hubris of the asshole also works as an aphrodisiac for the psyche of the female of the species because the asshole is not like most guys. The feelings of doubt, insecurity, fear, tension, and awkwardness are not even options with the asshole. The asshole does not think he deserves female companionship. He knows it and he exudes it and everyone knows that confidence is a major turn-on.
Something else I noticed is the big girl posse. Basically what these people represent are those plus size ladies who work as bodyguards/friends/designated wingman/ cock blockers/ magic mirror. What I mean by magic mirror is that the big girl in the group (and there is always one) always makes those people around her look exponentially more attractive in comparison. Don’t get me wrong, I got love for the big girls. I am a big dude and I understand that all shapes and sizes need some love. My problem is when these females start developing the same arrogance of the asshole. I will give you an example. I went to a bar with my boy Brian and a group of girls were checking him out. If you are into the 6’4 blonde hair blue eyed surfer type I guess you might find him attractive. Well Brian wanted to make sure I was in on the act, and tried to see if any of the group of girls would be interested in me. It wasn’t bad enough that I was reduced to collateral damage in my friend’s booty call but then this jabba the hut impersonator had the audacity to give me the “fuck no” look. When I saw the disdain in this girls eyes when she looked at me I could not control it. I said , “AWW HELL TO THE NO!!” This funky, dirty, trifflin’, contact wearing, classless, heartless, designer imposter perfume wearing, sex and the city wannabe bitch had the nerve to disrespect me in public and not even know me. I had to let that cunt know what was up. I told her and the rest of the cast of “The Facts of Life” to go suck a dick. Was I out of line? Probably. Did she have the right to reject me? Yes. But there is a decorum about rejection that that bitch obviously did not realize. If a girl has a gunt (a combination between a gut and a cunt that forms one indistinguishable blob) they REALLY have no room to be choosy. I am not Tyson Beckford, but that bitch sure as hell wasn’t Heidi Klum. I see this all the time. Big girls thinking that they can absorb their friends sex appeal through osmosis. I don’t think so. The worst thing in the world is an arrogant big girl. I am not saying don’t have self-respect or confidence. All I am saying is let’s keep this shit semi-real. Those girls are basically a diversion to illuminate their friends. What is worse is when they try to dress like their friends with the thongs and the tight ass shoes. It looks like they are baking bread in their feet and ass. Ugh! If you ever run into one of these ladies and they try to form a protective circle around their friends walk up to them, ask, “Hey, do you like to dance?” If they say yes, say, “Good, why don’t you waddle your chunky monkey ass on somewhere and get to it so I can talk to your sexy friend.”
I will end by just reassessing the goal of the bar room hookup. If you go to a bar to hookup, that is what you are going to get………a hookup. Those people who are making out in a bar and exchanging various fluids have hit the zenith of romance for the evening. Those making out in a bar are probably just going to make out because if you are going to actually get laid you probably won’t be staying at a bar. Even if you do achieve the ever popular one night stand what have you achieved? A stranger has sampled your DNA. What do you say in the morning? “Thanks for swallowing my babies. Maybe I’ll call you sometime.” My best advice is if you go to a bar, go to have a couple of beers and a couple of laughs with friends. Finding companionship in a bar is hard and finding genuine compatibility is damn near impossible. But if you are going to brave the elements and explore the great beyond adhere to the motto of the American boy scout: be prepared my friend, be prepared.