I Gave At The Office
At work the other day, a couple of representatives passed out those books that list a ton of charitable organizations with the accompanying carbon paper slips for donations. As soon as I saw them, I wanted to recite the time-honored phrase that normally gets those folks off your back: “I gave at the office.” Realizing that I was at the office, naturally, that phrase wouldn’t work. It’s not that I’m averse to giving, I just don’t like being solicited. However, I discovered yesterday that I actually did give, and I figured I’d revisit a couple topics I’ve written about over the last couple of months to tell you how:
I Gave At The Restaurant
A few weeks back, I wrote about how being a conservative environmentalist was something that eluded black people. Of course, I was being a little bit provocative in stating that, and the comments were filled with black people who described their green ways, from buying light bulbs with low wattages to recycling.
Yesterday, a friend and I tried a restaurant in DC that is one of the “greenest” in the country. This place, Founding Farmers, is entirely environmentally and carbon neutral and only serves locally farmed foods from sustainable sources. Hell, even the waiter was named “Hunter” (so he says). The food was really good, and I think the self-satisfaction of knowing you are eating “green” only adds to the experience. In other words, these folks were selling charity. So I gave to an environmental charity, one rum and ginger beer cocktail at a time.
Leave it to our great country to develop a way to make doing the right thing profitable. Instead of forking over cash to a “save the rainforest” organization during charity drives, you contribute to the cause and get bacon in brown sugar and cinnamon in exchange. This, to me, seems a more effective way of increasing donations. I recently read about an up and coming shoe designer who has vowed to give a pair of shoes to a needy child for every pair he sells. And the celebrities jumped all over that cause: Buy a pair of TOMS Shoes and help a child in need. It appeals to our senses on a number of levels and I think is an example of the future of green business and sustainable consumerism.
Wait, I DID Give At The Office!
Remember the investigation that I mentioned a couple days ago where I was contemplating my duty to a professional job against the perceived ”duty” to the race? Well, I’ve wrapped up my investigation and my report has been submitted. After swaying to and fro on recommending a punishment for three people (all black), I came to terms with my decision and was as honest as I could possibly be.
As it turns out, my report, while important, was somewhat of a formality. Because there have been a few incidents lately, the boss wants to send a message. Her mind on what to do with these folks had pretty much been made up. And now I’m feeling like a pawn. While every decision has been fair and just, the “blackness” in me can’t help but wonder if I’ve now killed these three folks’ ability to cry discrimination when the hammer comes down. How could they be discriminated against if a black person was the one who did the investigation? Eliminating that possibility is actually good, because they weren’t discriminated against. But being utilized as a token (even if in my own mind) makes it a tougher pill to swallow.
We’ll soon find out what happens to these folks, but I did all I could to make sure they are held accountable without having their careers ruined. It’s actually out of our hands now and in the hands of their contracting company…. which is black-owned. I know the Negro community is frowning on my shenanigans.
So I clearly did give at the office. I’m just not sure if I gave a second chance or an invitation to unemployment.
Palin Around
In January of 2008, I remarked that an Obama vs. McCain election would be the first time I was an initial fan of both candidates. By that summer, I was familiar with both’s political philosophy and record and knew my choice, but wanted to see their Vice President picks first. When McCain chose Sarah Palin, that was my nail in the coffin.
As she began campaigning, I, like much of the nation, became incensed. Her political views were uninformed and not well thought out. Her rallies were bastions of vitriol wrapped in an American flag; blasphemous at best. Her interviews that sought to play up her “down-home charm” and good looks turned into cries of victimization because the questions were unreasonable or the editing unflattering or whatever else she complained about to explain away her appearing unqualified. Post-election, she grumbled about her treatment by McCain’s staff and quit the governorship of Alaska.
AND, signed a million dollar plus deal (not including royalties) to write her now best-selling book Going Rogue. AND got on Oprah, which one Washington Post writer opined was Oprah’s attempt to win back conservative viewers who probably gagged at the sight of Oprah jumping around on stage in victory on November 5th, 2008.
I watched the Oprah interview all prepared to writhe in disgust (just as I’d done during the debates and national news coverage) and chuckle in awe (like I did while watching the Couric interview) at the sight and sound of Palin. But I did neither. Now that she is out of the political spectrum and not currently contending for public office, I was able to sit back and take a more objective look at this phenomenon called Sarah Palin. What I quickly discovered is that the very declaration that President Obama has recited for years applies equally to Sarah Palin: “Only in America is my story possible.”
It is only here, a country glued to TV sets while a big azz mylar balloon traversed the plains of Colorado, that the winking hockey mom of average intelligence wrapped in an attractive 45 year old frame could run a state and become a millionaire after quitting. Only here can her daughter’s baby daddy get mucho TV airtime, money, and magazine spreads without having accomplished anything in life other than having unprotected secks with a minor. And the more Palin protests the media and her unfair treatment, the more books she sells and paid speaking engagements she books.
In this regard, Palin is nothing short of genius. She has become a cultural sensation and has her haters, fans, and casual observers all tuning in to her every interview and magazine. She has managed her brand quite well thus far, and for that, she is a success story. She knows that if she looked like Ricki Lake circa 1990, none of this would be possible. So what does she do? She complains when Newsweek makes her look bad with a close-up of her face and then similarly complains when the same mag makes her look good in athletic wear (as shown above). It’s not that she has an issue with the pictures; it’s that making it an issue is simply good marketing. And this is an embodiment of the American dream.
I won’t be buying her book, but I will be tuning in. I can’t help myself. And I’m not alone. What she’ll say next is just as intriguing as primetime cliffhanger story lines during sweeps week. So say what you will about her inability to answer basic questions about what newspapers she reads, but had she answered that question, she wouldn’t be so appealing today.
Sure she lost the election, but she has capitalized on the runoff in a landslide.
… And Women Are Toddlers.
If the forward-looking, ready-for-marriage man observes a woman’s ability to care for him as an indicator of her suitability for motherhood (as I posited yesterday), then the forward-looking, ready-for-marriage woman assesses the ability of potential husbands to make her feel secure. And just as the caretaker question from yesterday defines what I think grown men should be looking for in a wife, consciously or subconsciously, the security question is what I think grown women seek in potential mates on some level.
The anthropologic studies on attraction confirm that men seek out women who appear most able to procreate (caretaker) and women seek out men who can provide security for her and her offspring. Whereas wild animals only need to worry about the strength of a male, humans, being the extremely complex mental and emotional creatures we are, obviously consider more facets of security. Financial security is great, but insufficient: see former football player Travis Henry. Physical security is great, but insufficient: see Mike Tyson. Intellectual security is great, but insufficient: see twice-divorced Cornel West. Emotional security is great, but also insufficient: see your past and the “one that got away.”
Men Are Babies…
I’ve written many times before about what I believe to be the basic needs of men and women when it comes to selecting a spouse. My view is that once we get past physical looks and personal compatibility, a woman’s basic need from a man boils down to security, and a man’s primary need from a woman is her caretaking. And this does not mean that the dude has to be Suge Knight or that the woman has to be Aunt Jemima. It just means that a woman has to feel secure enough to breed and a man has to feel secure enough in her ability to care for the bred.
We’ve all seen or heard men referred to as the biggest child in the family. Women often remark how they could have the swine flu and still do more before 9am than the Army, while ridiculing men for being bed-ridden when we’ve got the sniffles. Men often gather around each other and talk up our woman’s ability to think, cook, clean, and, in general, put others before herself. While some women may balk at such stereotypical feminine roles, these are the exact abilities necessary to ensure a healthy and well-cared for child. A woman who can’t feed her family, provide a clean house, teach and train others, and put her needs behind those of other loved ones, is a woman who probably won’t make a very good mother. This is because, while love is certainly the most important thing to give a child, I’m pretty sure food, protection from disease, and learning run very close seconds.
Second Chances
Have you ever been in a position where you hold someone’s future in your hands? Where, based on your words alone, you can either save someone’s career or send them out into a jobless economy with a scarlet letter appended to their resume? This is the position I find myself in today.
As has been well-chronicled in this blog, I am a believer of giving people second chances. As a maker of many mistakes in my life, it has been second chances and the opportunity for full redemption that has enabled me to have the life I lead today. And I’m certainly not the only one. If you are reading this, then I’m certain you have been provided second chances in various facets of life and most likely you are a better person for it.
That said, I also believe that you shouldn’t absorb the full-on blow for someone else’s mistakes and watch them skip off happily into rainbows and sunsets. This is probably why I would make a horrible thug and hooligan, because aside from my disdain for criminally victimizing other people for personal greed, I would not do time for anyone else. You know those popular “Stop Snitchin’” t-shirts? Yeah, well I subscribe to a similar t-shirt, except it has a big green light with “Snitch!” in the middle, with “why should I be Inmate #3249823’s girlfriend when you are obviously much more qualified??” in subscript.
Disheartened
I’ve got two things weighing on my mind this morning. I wanted to make two separate entries about them, but don’t want to wait to get them off my chest.
Donnie
Last month, a 20-year old black man died. That is not an uncommon occurrence and, no, it didn’t happen because of a botched robbery or a stray bullet outside a club in the inner-city. Donnie Wade was a pre-med biology major at Prairie View A&M University and was pledging to be a member of Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity. He and 9 other prospectives were hazed early one morning last month and Donnie died due to the malice and negligence of all involved. It was senseless.
This is not a rant about the relevancy of Black Greek Letter Organizations. They are relevant, have been and still are; period. But the hazing is irrelevant and unnecessary. Though Donnie didn’t die from physical beatdowns (he died most likely from over-exertion due to rigorous exercise), there is no point in hazing people in such a manner for entry into these organizations. If he was at a military training camp, then the regimen may have been warranted. But as a student just wanting to be a part of something, it was unnecessary.
Thank You
Happy Veterans’ Day for all those who have served HONORABLY.
And a personal thank you to the men who made my path possible:
The first African-American Naval Officers commissioned.
Into The Fray
If you say that indirect rule in North Africa was more effective than it was in India one more time, I will beat your azz!!!!!
I wrote a few days ago about the angry folks we saw this summer fighting, cursing, and crying at town hall debates, pining for the America they once knew. Even though I don’t sympathize with their sentiments, it did make me wonder if I believe in anything so passionately that I’d be willing to curse someone out and throw blows to defend it.
This morning while trolling the news, I came across an article in the Washingtonian that I’d somehow missed last week. Apparently, there was a brawl in the newsroom at the Washington Post. A 70 year old, Pulitzer Prize-winning, Vietnam vet and former Marine beat the stuffing out of another writer, over 20 years his junior, at the office. The older man was editing the article of the younger and said it was one of the worst stories he’s ever seen; that he was offended by the lack of journalistic professionalism. The younger man told him to stop being such a “c0ck!sucker,” and the old man knocked him to the floor and began dotting eyes and right-crossing teeth. The fight was broken up by an executive editor.
Of Salsa & Sacrifice
Meet Kevin and Janet. They’ve been married ten years and have two children. He is a middle manager for a major corporation. She is an educated stay-at-home mom. They have the house, cars, church membership, and once a year family vacations typical of suburban Americans.
Their love life is about average, they suppose. They are intimate 2-3 times a week. It normally occurs at night, after the kids are sleep, in their bed and in the dark. There are no costumes, no rowdy passion, no experimental play; just missionary with an occasional switch-up. They are both pretty pleased, but acknowledge it isn’t like when they first married. They have the typical complaints: he wants her to be more adventurous, freaky; she wants him to be more attentive and extend foreplay.
Outside of the bed and the kids, they don’t talk all that much. When he comes home from work, he’s tired of the interaction and wants some down time. She talks to children all day and wants some adult interaction. He does guy stuff like watch football, drink beer, handle outside chores. She is constantly on the move with the kids and keeping the house up.
In an effort to rekindle that spark, she asks him if he’ll take salsa lessons together with her once a week. He is against it. Not because he doesn’t want the spark back, but because he has no interest in “prancing around.” After some discussion, he says he’ll agree to take the lessons if she’ll agree to dress up/role play once a month and perform oral once a week, something she only does once or twice a year now.
Nothing To Talk About
Though there is plenty of blogging fodder in the papers and in my daily life, I’m not going to write an entry today. It’s not that I don’t have opinions on the many things going on, I just don’t have the urge to ring an oft-rung bell for 600-700 words today.
The easy thing to do would be to address the unbelievable shootings yesterday at Fort Hood. But everything I know about it, I got from reading papers this morning and catching glimpses of the incessant cable news coverage of an empty podium stand awaiting a press conference while filling the dead space with uninformed opinions and synopses. The shooter is dead! Wait, no he isn’t! A Muslim did it! But trust us, it wasn’t terrorism *wink*. His cousin says he’s a great American! But he joined the Army, terrified of being a soldier! He’s in the Army so it must be PTSD! Oh wait, he’s never even been to war. I just can’t stand all the unchecked declarations and “jumpage to conclusioness.” In my mind, this is the simple story of a dude who was afraid to go to war, who joined the Army to get free schooling and a medical degree and not to defend his country, who happened to be Muslim, and who happened to go ape-shyt when he received deployment orders. He was a psychiatrist clearly in need of a psychiatrist. I don’t know how this story ends. But I will be patient enough for the facts to come out. I just can’t take much more of this cable news speculative reporting.
