WHY OBAMA'S NOT GOING TO GET MURKED

Here's a little reassurance for you skeptics out there. I know, I know; you're still struck with those dag-blasted heebie-jeebies about tomorrow, even though you keep hearing about all that security and the precautions taken to ensure a safe and happy inauguration.

Fear not; it appears that the last thing anybody wants is a problem with the super-official Obama entourage. In case you were unaware, this is how President #44 is rolling out in these skreets. Now ask axe yourself; do you want beef? This dude has the pimp game on clack-clack!!! See for yourself below:





But nah... go right ahead. See what your foolishness and unprepared mind will get you in 2009. My advice? Chiiiiiilllllll.....

RACISM AIN'T DEAD YET...

Before you go all Obama/Dr. King/Biggie Smalls crazy with the rest of your holiday weekend, I just thought I'd come back to say hello and burst your bubble with regards to race relations in America, and specifically in the south.

Absolutely 100% true story:


Last night, after doing research for the job, I went to my old bar hangout in Marietta, GA. It's called Churchill's Pub. You don't normally see a lot of black folks in and out of there, but they do come through. I get treated like some sort of celebrity by the staff and owners, simply because I've weathered 2 years of coming in consistently. Working across the street at another bar made it accessible, and the fact that they have really good food, free wi-fi and would let you order a pitcher of beer for yourself were enough to keep me coming, even though I would sometimes sense race hate from the other side of the bar. Which I never pay much attention to anyway, but sometimes I would actually engage the people directly with a sarcastic smile and a knowing look.

It wasn't that way last night, but there was this dude that I know pretty well from seeing him there a lot, sometimes with his mom and dad. He was hanging out with this guy that looked like he was born in a hunting jacket; like he literally fell out of a deer's coochie one morning, reached for a rifle and shot his own mother dead. This guy was short, pudgy and had extremely wild eyes -- probably from meth of coke or... who knows -- and did all he could to get my attention when he played "99 Problems" by Jay-Z on the Rhapsody jukebox. I gave him a salute and even played along with him when he shouted out the lyrics to the part of the song where the officer is talking to Jay. You know: "Cuz I'm young, and I'm black/and my hat's real low/do I look like a mind reader, sir?/I'ont know..."

This is ironic, because 20 minutes later, as I walk over to say what's up to the other homie, he meets me in front of the jukebox, like, "Are you gonna play some shit!!@?? (drunk as hell). I was like, "Um... yeah!?" And he was then like, "YEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!" So I guess that meant we were cool. It had to mean he had established some type of relationship with me, at least in his mind, because not 5 minutes later, as I'm looking through the web, he does the irritating thing which people always do when I take my computer into a public place -- ask if I'll go to some stupid website or YouTube video. This time, I said "Sure," and actually found this really cool site that showcases a local artist who lost his arm or something and draws completely with his mouth. So I say to him, "That's actually cooler than I expected it to be, my man." And he says, "OH!!! YOU WANNA SEE SOMETHING COOL?!??!@@#%?! CHECK THIS SHIT OUT, MAN!!*#!"

That's when he pulls out his phone and shows me how he won last year's Halloween costume at a neighborhood party.





I actually got the guy to send that picture to my email address. That's really him. Now, if you're white and reading this, you might be thinking, "Aww, come on, Mike. That's not really racist! It's just a harmless joke! Stop being so damn sensitive and taking all the fun out of something that's not even that big a deal..."

True, true. Sounds great, but what was I supposed to say about the picture of his black dog, who he called his "down-ass nigger" and bragged about how well-trained he is, and why I'd love him, and why I should come over to their house to get really drunk(er) with the whole backwoods family.





I politely declined, shook my head a little and laughed. Finished my drink, turned back to him and asked a very simple question:

"So, did you vote for Obama?"

He said no.

I paid out my tab, walked over to the bartender and gave her a hug, tipped my waitress, threw the deuces to our shared homie, and after putting on my long, black winter coat and throwing my Macbook back into my leather shoulder bag -- looking like a future black senator, I might add -- I extended my hand to shake that of my new, ignorant-to-his-own-racism friend and said:

"You're actually a cool cat, besides your bullshit. Hope you think twice about your picture and the N-bomb in the future. Oh, and happy MLK day."

BURIED IN WORK, BUT FAR FROM DEAD

Sorry about the lapse in posting continuity. The new year brought a super-cool new job, new money and new toolery. Now that I'm working 9 hours a day on a MacBook, things are a little more complicated and I haven't yet figured out some of the deets when it comes to grabbing images and such, so it looks like I'll be having to switch back and forth from my trusty PC (Sade) and this new laptop. Which is probably for the best; nothing like a bunch of weird blog posts that don't relate to the job sitting on a company hard drive to kill your career before it's really born.

So thanks for the patience, and especially thanks to THE GEORGIA BLOGROLL, which just added your faithful and humble narrator to its listings. I'll be back around in a few hours. Hey, at least I'm Twittering more often!!

As if you care.

THE UNDERWRITER LIVES TO SEE 2009

Yes, bitches. I've made it. 31 years, and not a single bit of evidence that would suggest aging. Maturity? Surely. But I'm a child of God, and I retain my youthful spirit and I remain young at heart. I love being alive at this point in time.

Can you believe that we actually have a black president?! I mean, take away the horrible recession, the toxic sludge in the Tennessee River, the still-unfinished business in New Orleans, the pointless violence in Gaza, the ignorant racism of the Republikkkan party--especially in my beautiful south, the lack of self-belief and the persistence of power-lust and you have a serious opportunity for change. And, as you can tell, I'm not one for the fantasy way of seeing things. I see dead people.

I also see live people. I see the chance to make the miracles that we think only God has the power to perform actually happen, with our own work. And I'm ready to make my mark on the world. We're not in a recession, as it would relate to the richness of the human mind. We're more capable of thinking our collective way out of this mess that we've made than at any point in human history. Why waste it?

Give me the green light. I can go all night. And all year. And all my life. I've been ready to go, and right now is as good a time as any in my term on this planet. Let's all get serious about life this year. Let's not substitute anything for hard work and dedication. As my man White Jesus always says, "Get prolific."

If you read this blog, peace and blessings to you in 2009. Thanks for supporting writers and readers.

KNOWING WHEN TO QUIT IS DEAD

This vid that I copped from Failblog.com is funny as hell and I think you should watch it as an introduction piece before I go into this next post:





I guess I'm posting it because it seems like the reporter should have used his common sense and not gotten in the way of an unstoppable force. He looked like the swaggering, confident sports journalist when the vid begins, but alas; he loses his standing, is sent spinning out of control and lands on his American ass.

Then he has the nerve to try to sound "cool" (get it--snow!) while laying on the white. He then collapses. When he is finally helped back up by a supporter whose face shall not be seen, he staggers--not swaggers--off into the distance in shame and stupidity. Maybe he should have questioned the wisdom of trying to be so close to something he couldn't control. This, oh my brothers and sisters, is what happened to still-Governor Rod Blagojevich. He saw the gravy train a-comin' down the mountain and had to be the Christmas turkey that got glazed [nl].





It is reported today that Gov. Blago WILL NAME OBAMA'S SUCCESSOR, in what has to be one of the most defiant political moves I've seen recently, next to Senator Larry Craig's STALLED ATTEMPT AT MAN-LOVE and subsequent refusal to accept even his own guilty plea in court, dragging his public embarassment out longer than necessary.

The move by Gov. Blago has already drawn a line in the snow between himself and THE DON MEGA HARRY REID, with the Senate Majority Leader repeating the party line that any person appointed by the disgraced governor would be blocked. Since it's everyone's intention to have Blago not only impeached but possibly prosecuted, it makes perfect sense that he would not take the idiotic step of tainting SOMEONE ELSE'S good name by telling the world that he--in all of his political morality--has decided that said person was the most qualified for such a powerful and significant position. But politics = Pandora's box, lest we forget...





My question: why is it that Blago keeps shitting on black candidates? Pardon me if my colorblind philosophy is blurring my actual vision, but wasn't President-Elect Barack Obama a black senator? Why would Blago twice put his slimy stamp of approval on two otherwise respectable black men with upward mobility and political aspirations of grandeur? Is this some type of trade-off? Do blacks in Illinois have to pay a penance for Obama's success? Sacrifice two knights to get one king? Checkmate?

Or is this something more politically poisoned? Is Gov. Blago putting his finger in the Obama Administration's proverbial EYE OF PROVIDENCE by spreading his own disgrace among other candidates that share a similar ethnic background to Obama, as long as he is hung out to dry by the new Democratic establishment? Maybe his posturing is a way of saying, "Look here, Mr. Magic Negro; I will not be the only one to fall on this one, so you'd better look for a way to save me and my political legacy before I start flipping even worse than the reporter in that YouTube video above."





And seriously, what does that "Warning" sign next to Blago mean? Is there some subliminal message in the choice of being snapped by a photog next to something that says the word "rats"? Hmmm...

Hopefully Blago will smarten up quickly and realize that he's already fallen. No need to keep playing yourself for the cameras, dude. You are the victim of your own epic fail. Just collect yourself, turn around and walk away. And please don't expose those that tried to help you get back up in the process. Let them have their dignity.