Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises Presents…Panama’s Propositions

I don’t have any children right now, nor am I exactly looking to bring any litte Panamas or Panamaishas into the world in the near future. But Godwilling, I do want kids.

In fact, I want a few kids. I grew up in a household with 3 sisters, an add-on brother, and a bunch of other folks who might as well have been family. I can’t imagine having just one child. I had way too much fun growing up with my siblings to have an only child who has to create all of his own entertainment. Though, I’m sure he could, Lord knows I did.

True Story: When I was 3, my mother bought me a Playskool My First Hiking Trip Set (or something along those lines). It came with a canteen, a compass, and a utility belt. My mother filled up my canteen with water. Showed me what the compass was and opened the door. Now my usual thing was to just walk outside and play in the grass in front our apartment. Not that day. See, my mother messed up, she ALSO told me what hiking was. So what did Peewee Panama do? He went hiking. There were some woods behind our apartment complex so I moseyed on into the woods to go, ya know, hiking. Apparently I was gone for something like 3 hours causing my father, the police, and the military installation behind our home to be called. Me? I was just out walking around in the woods and drinking the water in my canteen and ya know, hiking. According to my mother, I just strolled up out of the woods right into the house, said, “hi mommy,” then sat down and watched cartoons.

Moral of the story: Parenting can be a bitch.

Anyway, as thoughts of parenthood become more frequent as I get older, I’ve started to have one lingering concern. It is a concern unlike any other concern. I’m not worried about having gay children or anything. In today’s day and age, the more kids you have it seems the more likely that is to be the case with at least one of them. Plus, I’m okay with that.

I’m not worried about raising a black male child. I was a black male child and I came out alright and I know the conversations I’m going to need to have. Plus, I refuse to sugarcoat shit.

Nope, my concern is this: I don’t really want to be cooler than my kids.

You see, I fashion myself to be a pretty cool dude. Feel free to disagree, but also feel free to go fuck yourself.

Mmkay?

I also know that cool isn’t something you create, it’s just something you are. I assume you’re born with it. Like green eyes, only not like that at all.

When you meet people who are cool, it instantly becomes the first adjective you use when describing them. Which is interesting because cool is one of the hardest things to describe in and of itself. What does cool even mean? For real, the next time you are talking to somebody and they tell you how cool their friend is, ask them what makes them cool.

I’d be willing to put money that at some point they end up saying this: “I don’t know, she/he’s just…cool.”

Being as this will be my child, I will assume that he will be going through many phases on his way to discovering his cool. If my child is anything like me, he’ll go through his nerd phase, his awkward phase, etc. The normal things that black children that can read go through.

Yes bitches, my child will be one of the reading black people. But on his way into adolescence I hope he discovers his cool. His ability to just be himself regardless of what else is going on around him. Of course, if that cool involves him wearing all black and lots of metal studs and shit, well…we’re gonna have a talk.

Until I realize that it’s probably my fault for playing so much Led Zeppelin around the house.

Back to the cool. You know, growing up can be very hard. We spend so much time trying to figure out where we fit in with our friends and just the world period that it can take a while to figure out who you really are. With that in mind, I’m looking forward to seeing my children go through all of the phases. But what happens if, and when, my child discovers his inner self and its…

..Urkel.

And all of his friends have pocket protectors and their conversations linger on the newest mechanical pencil and its aerodynamic capabilities.

I mean, I’ll love him just the same. But you better believe I’ll be throwing a football at him all the time. And if he can’t catch, that’s just too bad for him. He’ll figure it out over time. He can cry to his momma all he wants. But…and it’s a simple but…

…what if that’s just how he’s comfortable. Mind you, I’ll be accepting, but I’ll want him to branch out. I suppose I’m more worried about my kids being complete introverts than I am being overly cool. Despite saying that I’m a cool cat and shit, I tend to think I’m more funny than cool. I don’t know how many people would use cool as the first adjective to describe me.

Of course, sexxy would be first.

*ba-dum-ching*

I’m just concerned with the social malaise that could occur if my kid turns into the uber-uncool versoin of Urkel. Because despite what you think, I really do think Urkel was a pretty cool dude. He did his thing, was open and honest and all that. He was alright with me.

Granted, I don’t have any kids yet so this is all moot. And I will love my kids regardless and truthfully, it might be kind of fun to have a really nerdly kid with the taped up glasses. Not sure how that would happen given that any woman I procreate with is gonna be cool as a fan too, but it could happen. Plus, kids like that just have to increase the entertainment value in the house right??

And besides, we all remember Steve Urkel had Stephon in him. So maybe all I have to do is harness the inner cool.

And try not to make my son a ho.

To be a parent…

I just got back from Huntsville, Alabama.

And I’ve noticed that lately, every time I go there, I’m acutally glad to be there.

Well aside from the fact that I went out to the club on Saturday night and if that was the normal club scene I’d have to kill myself if I lived there.

Either that or become a Buddhist.

I also realized that it’s entirely possible to walk out the house with some turqoise boxer briefs and a tie wrapped around your head with some Birkenstocks on and be completely over dressed for the club. I’m not saying that was me, but I really could have got into this club with a “dress code” dressed like Jesus.

With the halo.

Of course, at least I’m down South so the women look good, but nothing quite annoys me more than niggas trying to hit on two of my sisters with me sitting there telling me they don’t want no trouble cuz they’re on “papers.”

When they’re like 6’5″ and 280 pounds.

Which I am not. Just feels patronizing, ya know? I mean I have feelings. Almost felt like a challenge.

Hmm, to take it even further. I never have to drink to have a good time. For the first time, I had to drink to have a good time. A lot. Fortunately for me, my sisters are a riot.

Slight caveat, when I say sisters up there, I’m speaking of one actual sister of mine and one adopted sister, sort of. But the weird thing is, if it wasn’t for the law, neither would be related to me at all. Seriously, they could do a study on my family and it would take years to break down how I happen to have a brother and 6 sisters and only one of them is blood.

But we’re family like the Jacksons.

Either way, I have come to appreciate being in Huntsville. I’ve realized that I love open space a whole lot. And greenspace. I like peace and quiet at night and the ability to drive out of the city into just open roads and quiet and crickets and dark roads and stuff. Backroads and the like. I’ve always wanted to buy a house in the city and a house out in the sticks where not too many people could find me.

I like the country a lot as well. I like walking around barefoot without worrying about catching HIV from the sidewalk.

Though I’ll never live in Huntsville for long periods of time, I might buy me a house or something there. Kind of my getaway for when I move back to Atlanta.

Oh, and by the way, there is like zero depth whatever to anything I’m writing today. I’m just sharing because sharing is caring.

But the real reason I wanted to write this post is because I need to do a formal congratulations to one of my boys, The Great. I think I will now have to change his name from The Great, to The Doc. My boy, at age 27, has received his Ph.D. in Biology and Biomedical Engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology.

That’s Georgia Tech for those that just don’t know.

I’m so proud of that dude I don’t even know what to do with myself. Luckily we’ll be in Miami this weekend at a friends wedding so we can kick of the festivities something proper. Then again in August in the A.

To my boy, who occasionally reads here, congratulations. You know, I need to say this here, and forgive me if it sounds a little gloatish, but I’m really proud of my group of friends. I don’t know if it’s just luck or what have you, but I got a group of friends from Morehouse that all managed to graduate in 4 years, together, which at Morehouse is an accomplishment worthy of an award.

All of us have managed to get some type of advanced degree in some random field. We’ve got lawyers, educators, economists, policy analysts, scientists.

And we all can get as ignant as the next man.

And I appreciate that.

I think I shall change our motto to, “we do big shit.”

Anyway, to my boy, The Artists Now Known as The Doc and formerly known as The Great, the first Ph.D. in the group, good damn job homeboy.

Good damn job.

[***This will be another Panama-length post. Stop working and take a 30 minute break. ***]

So India.Arie is not her hair.

She’s also not that great a singer or a talent, but let’s not let my personal biases against mediocre, over-hyped music get in the way of objective analysis.

See also: Alicia Keys.

India.Arie has a new song getting rotation on vh1 Soul entitled “I’m Not My Hair”. Though I more often than not change channels when I see it and have yet to really listen to the lyrics, I’m pretty sure I have a good idea where she’s going with it.

[***Sidenote: Have you noticed how much time India.Arie puts into telling us what she's not? She's not the average chick in the video (no shit Sherlock), she's not her hair, she's not caught up into the materialism of it all ("Little Things" which I hated with the passion of Mel Gibson. Construction through deconstruction, eh? I still don't think her music is that great or moving. In fact, I just created this sidenote so I could reinforce the fact that neither India or Alicia Keys is particularly overwhelmingly talented, they're just "positive" so the accolades come. Sad sad times we live in. And oh yes, kiss my ass if you think I'm just hating. ***]

It’s an ever-present reminder to not judge books by their cover. Many women with myriad hairdoes across the nation, especially of the darker persuasion, wish to not be judged by their hair or boxed into whatever stereotype their hair represents. Oh how cruel society can be for looking at a part of your chosen appearance and making some sort of (un)informed opinion about you.

Let me just cut the shit here, you can see through my obvious sarcasm that I like to call bullshit on this notion. But I’m not calling bullshit on the notion in its entirety, but just from the ONLY group of women who run this brouhaha into the ground: the alleged/assumed/stereotped “deep” crowd of women with the natural hair or locs that refuses to succumb to society’s (read white folks) requirement to have relaxed hair that conforms to the white aesthetic.

Women’s liberation lives on.

It is my understanding that relaxed hair is easier to manage. I could be wrong on that, but I’ve been told that from nearly all the women in my life with relaxed hair. If that is the case, then growing ones hair out in its natural African splendor or locking one’s hair is not only a societal rebellion but a conscious decision to retain God’s given goods. It is in fact…

…a statement of sorts.

And I’m all for statements. If you have something to say, then by all means say it. The more controversial the better. Now the funny shit here is that most of the controversy involved here comes from the stereotype that in some ways, women with the “hair” (as it will be called from here on out) run themselves right into, but don’t want to be a party to in the first place.

Common sense be damned.

And that’s where I get to calling bullshit. You see, not a SINGLE woman I know with the “hair” isn’t or hasn’t been on some sort of “enlightened” kick at some point in their lives. Lovers of all things natural from natural soaps and organic shit and lovers of the beauty of the outside and the grass and how we are all connected to the Earth and must take advantage of all that. And I’m not judging at all, I actually think thats great. More people should probably be into the natural order of things and want to preserve and enjoy the world’s resources and the like. And I’m all for enlightenment.

Further, it seems that when most black women go through some sort of major life change, often times, their hair becomes the subject of debate; whether or not to cut it, to lock it, to just let it grow into its natural state. In many ways, a woman’s hair does represent a lot about her. Not to say that it is the only facet of her, but it is a major part. The thing is, the only group that runs around wishing to not be judged by their hair is the women with the “hair”. And its because the rest of us aren’t nuts and have been exposed to so many women with the “hair” that some sort of opinion can be created.

Women with relaxers don’t run into this problem and it could very well be a societal, white-induced thing. If you see a woman with a perm, well, that just seems normal. Permed hair doesn’t really stand out. If you see a woman with the helicopter hair do, well, her ass is just ghetto. You are what you eat and you reap what you sow. But for those of us who can read, which would be everybody reading this right now, when you see a woman with big hair or locs (the “hair) we do tend to assume certain things about them.

That they rock earthtones and headwraps, read Sonia Sanchez, like ankh’s, wear jewelry with amber and are all about some sort of enlightenment or something. All of those things can, sometimes for right sometimes for wrong, be assumed from seeing a woman out with the “hair”. And yes it is wrong to make such assumptions…but umm…

…how often are you wrong?

When was the last time you met a woman with the “hair” that had the best of Ying Yang Twins bumping in their ride? They get lumped into the “concious” crowd by men and women alike because for the most part, they don’t exactly do anything to counter that title. You go to their homes they have books about women’s liberation, feminism, and spirituality, amidst the music of the the “deep” crowd who has an appreciation for “quality” music. The homes are filled with incense and the like.

Yes, I’m stereotyping, but how how often am I completely offbase? I’m not saying all women with the “hair” are like that, but I’m guessing that I’m not as wrong as India.Arie might have me believe. And I think that’s where the problem with the “hair” comes in and why so many of women rocking the “hair” always clamor at that statement.

They don’t want to be boxed in or labeled into something that makes being ignant or ghetto contrary to the image that is being portrayed. Granted, I come down hard on many of “deep” brothers and sisters, but its usually at the inauthenticity of some of it. I just think its funny that people go so far out of their way to put out an image that is reflective of a certain persona. Mostly because there isn’t much variance. It’s an all or nothing thing. I’m deep, so I must wear all things deep or do all things deep people do. I suppose its largely a phase thing that many people grow out of, but oh well, it’s still funny.

Being characterized by your hair means that when you get to shakin’ that ass to Nelly or the Ying Yang Twins, people might look at you funny. And that’s not fair. Just because she loves Che Guevara and Assata Shakur doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy the music of Ying Yang while shunning the lyrics. It’s party music right? And she likes to party. Why come she can’t get her “Salt Shaker” on in peace without folks being like, “dang girl, i didn’t think you’d get down like that?”

You know what’s really funny about this, it’s that women with the “hair” often get stereotyped up. As in, we tend to expect something from them for whatever reason. You expect to go into their homes and be transported into a sea of understanding and knowledge. Sad to say, if you go into the home of a chick with a perm, and you see the home of a “deep” chick, you’re often surprised in some sort. I know I am. It may be wrong, but fuck you.

Not to say that I don’t expect permed out chicas to read, but when you get the Mother Africa treatment, it just kind of takes you aback, then you realize you can’t judge a book by its cover. She may be the flyest chick on the planet, but there’s more to her than meets the eye. And that is why this whole phenomena is so funny to me. Women with the “hair” want to be regarded as normal people…hell, they just want to get the freedom to be a multi-faceted fuck-up with ignorant tastes like everybody else, whereas other women get the “wow, you READ???” face when you enter their homes.

And, to reiterate, I understand that your hair alone does not make you who you are, but it does say something about you, when you decide to (this is going to be the dumbest shit I’ve ever said…so bear with me), shun the status quo and wear your hair the way God intended.

Yes I felt dumber for saying that.

And see that’s the problem: you are your hair. It makes a statement about you. It’s just not the whole you, and I understand wanting to be recognized as a whole person and not boxed in to some perception that YOU are giving off. But its funny the labels we reject, isn’t it? Nobody wants to reject being labeled smart, well read, or thinking, yet often times those are the very assumptions we make from checking out a woman’s hair and her persona (which often fits the stereotype we adorn due to their hair). Women with the “hair” want the opportunity to be just as ignant as the rest of us with out raising an eyebrow. Thing is, its not even usually the “hair” alone that does it. It’s the whole package, from afar.

Apparently the biggest problem that comes with the “hair” is the assumptions that go along with it. The women who have to scream that they aren’t their hair just don’t want folks to assume anything about them, be it true or not. But when you make certain statements, assumptions arise. Your hair is your statement when you chose to go the “hair” route.

But to counter that, I suggest wearing a Ying Yang Twins shirt. That will throw people off and make sure that nobody judges you by your cover.

Then drop it likes its hot…

…on the bus…

Stereotype. Dissolved.

…when I’m busting my ass at work like I’m a real employee.

Somebody must have told them wrong. Actually, somebody must have told me wrong since I’m up here working my ass off.

Anyway, a thought occured to me while watching television a few nights ago.

Before I get to that, have you been watching Grey’s Anatomy? I’m not usually into medical shows or anything but my little sister got me hooked around Christmas and I’ve been a fanatic ever since. Man, that’s a good show. Last night was the 2 hour season finale and it was great, but man, the prelude to the 2 hour season finale on Sunday? Geez Louise. That had me on the edge of my seat. I don’t know all the characters real names, but the chick that plays Izzie (sp?) seriously kicked up her Hollywood potential with her rendition of a schizophrenic, nucking-futs, over the top, love-struck, dumb-struck, dire-straits, reverse Florence Nightingale syndromed potential woman scorned.

Man, somebody needs to get her some more acting roles, STAT. If you haven’t seen it, somebody has that joint Tivo’d or DVR’d or for the archaics amongst us, VCR’d. That was good television.

Now back to my question. I was watching Bill Maher’s show on HBO on Sunday and I noticed that he had Cornel West, some politician-looking white guy (I can’t remember for the life of me who it was) and John Legend.

Yes, John Legend.

I watched part of the show and it got me to thinking…why in the hell do some of these entertainers agree to go on the show? For one, unless you are SERIOUSLY up on shit, you aren’t going to be able to get in any good arguments or anything worth debating edgewise. Regardless of your opinion of him, Bill Maher is sharp, and often times, so are his guests.

But sometimes, some of the entertainers he brings on don’t have jack shit to contribute. Such was the case with John Legend. This is not to say that these entertainers aren’t capable of gunnin’ with the politicians, political wonks, and policy analysts, but a lot of times, they just…

…can’t.

I remember Chris Rock was on there once and you could tell he was completely outgunned. As in didn’t have a single thing to offer. And I’m a huge fan of his, but the problem is that Bill Maher and his guests, more often than not, dig into the weeds on stuff and discuss shit that unless you read the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times, and any and all things coming out of Washington, you will have nothing to contribute and will just be sitting there nodding your head trying to keep up. I’ve seen it time and time again with entertainers. In fact, one of the few to go on the show that could not only keep up with the big dogs but put the big dogs on edge was, Ben Affleck.

I know, let that marinate. He isn’t the best actor, but he knows his politics. I have to give credit where credit is due.

So I just wonder, if you’re an entertainer that actually watches the show and you get asked to come on, and you arent so big into politics and the like, why in Sam Hill would you put yourself in a position to look like a deer caught in headlights? And I know a lot of these entertainers are smart, trust me I do. But it’s one thing to be smart, it’s a total different animal to attempt to get into a heated intellectual discourse with the most cynical, yet sharp man on TV this side of Jon Stewart. And most entertainers just aren’t that political. Puffy included. They are entertainers. We pay them to make us feel better about ourselves, not make us smarter.

Nobody wanted to hear Chris Rock say, “I”m just pissed that gas cost so much” the (at least) 10 times he said it.

Just a thought…but why walk into a gunfight with a slingshot and some split pea soup?

PlayStation: Heather Headley’s song “In My Mind” is the worst written great song of the past 10 years.

PS 2: Bill Cosby is at it again. At Spelman College (my favorite place) he told the women they need to take over since most black men are in jail. You have to love it when he shoots from the hip. Good times.

PS 3 (Coming Soon): This was way longer than it should have been. The sad part is that it took me like 8 minutes to come up with and type all of that. I really am longwinded. I’m also…well, you know the rest.

We’ve all been there. You’re out, and you see somebody who catches your eye for whatever reason. Maybe its their eyes. Or maybe it’s their hair. Or maybe they just have that “thing” that Lauryn Hill was talking about that gets folks so messed up in the game.

Whatever it is, it renders you helpless to your impulses and forces you to just go over and speak. Everything is going well. Your “hello” was well received and a contrived albeit purposeful conversation was begun.

And then…

…that muhfucka says the utmost stupidest shit you’ve ever heard in your life. And presto changeo, stock drops. You’re selling the shit faster than your Enron. Yes, in just a few short minutes, it is possible to meet somebody who goes from being the cat’s meow to Alpo.

Hell, it’s happening right now in cities across America.

And yes, it can happen to you. Therefore, I figured the best way to counter that problem is to just offer a few situations that can render you unattractive to the opposite sex in 10 minutes or less. But before we do that, there is something that must be understood.

Panamalogy: Attractiveness is very similar to your college GPA. You may be fine, but if you fuck it up by saying/doing something stupid, your stock drops quick as hell and is damn near impossible to bring back up to where you dropped from. Just like with your GPA. How well you do in your first semester will essentially set the bar for how high you can go. If you don’t get a 4.0 in the first semester, you’ll never have a 4.0. If you bomb your first semester, you will be working like Kunte in Virginia trying to pull it up, and it will likely never get as high as you’d like it. Fine only counts if you never speak to the person, because that shit becomes all relative once they open their mouths and have every ability to fuck it up. And that’s a fact, Jack.

How To Become Unattractvie in 10 Minutes or Less: Fucking Up Your Future Forensically

1. Come off like you are the pure and unadulterated shit.

You ever meet somebody and they made it seem like you were lucky to even get the opportunity to do so? Oh yeah, tumble attractiveness, tumble. I know a woman who assumes that anytime a man speaks to her, he is trying to run game. Anytime. What I find funny about it is that she’s not attractive…in the first place. Hence, she will blow off nearly any man who even offers her so much as a compliment and assume that he is merely running more game than a crackhead from Hempstead.

Word to the wise, self-esteem is really important. What’s also important is realizing that if you have an 8 body and a 5 face, you are a 6.

And 6′s don’t come home to momma.

2. Have breath that is kicking like the Pink Power Ranger

Yes, halitosis is a real thing. I’m not even sure there needs to be an explanation here. Let’s just say, if nobody wants to talk to you and you look like Halle Berry, either you have a sign on your forehad that says “SARS lives here” or you’re breath is beyond reproach.

3. Bring up the fact that you live with your momma…in the first 2 minutes.

You know, for some reason, women attach a lot to your living situation. And that shit can make you look really Bobcat in a nanosecond. For one, I don’t even know how it comes up. There is no reason to mention it really. It’s something that should come up later. But yep, I guaran-damn-tee that if as a man, you bring this up somehow, you will become the male version of Solange. Not quite busted, but when stacked up against the former Beyonce that you could have been…well, she’ll pass.

By the way, did anybody catch the Tribe Called Quest reference a few paragraphs back? Go ahead, its okay, go try to find it.

4. Be a stank ass heifer/nigga

As opposed to coming off as the unadulterated shit, this is when you begin talking and you realize that her attitudes seem to be more along the lines of golddiggin’ ass hoes. For instance, say you walk over to her, and you see she’s reading the Randall Robinson book The Debt: What America Owes To Blacks and you use that to segue into a convo with her. And she tells you that, she’s reading it but for real, black people just need to get over it and quit being ghetto and that she wouldn’t want to be in undevelopoed ass Africa chucking spears so we should be thankful we live in America (5. Be ignant/ignorant/idignant/a Ying-Yang Twin

I use the word nigga a lot. A lot lot. But you wouldn’t know that from jump. Hell, unless I know you, I rarely use it on IM without asking you if its okay first. And cursing, I won’t curse unless I know you are 100 percent okay with it.

STOP.

Did anybody else see All Of Us last night where they tried to broach the topic of the using the N-word. I mean, nigga. They get an A for effort. But I just don’t know if UPN is equipped to handle such a difficult topic. I ended up cringing more and more as I watched it. Thank God for Uncle Dirk. The comic relief broke up the uberfuckery of a job that they attempted to do, from the drummed up emotion to the touching moments at the end. It just exposed the bad acting jobs they are capable of. Like I said, A for effort.

Back to the lecture at hand. So say you approach the you are feeling and in the first 2 or 3 minutes, they use the word nigga, or curse and no, hell or damn, but they use the word fuck. You just never know how folks feel about that kind of stuff. It’s always best to ease into that over time, you don’t just come out the gate with it when trying to make some sort of impression. You’re first words shouldn’t be, “yeah, a nigga spotted yo’ fine ass from across the room. I was finna come whisper in your ear, wait til you see my dick.”

Boris Kodjoe to Barney Fife in 3 minutes flat.

Not. A. Good. Look.

6. Just be damn dumb.

I don’t know about you, but I HATE dumb broads. With the passion of Mel Gibson. I know some folks who like dumb chicks cuz they are easy but that is an ultimate turnoff. If I see a fine woman who gets so excited because she just discovered that there are pens that if you push the button, the ball point comes out…well, she’s gettin’ chucked like Taylor. She will become very unattractive quickly to me. Dumb girls cannot be fine. It is mentally impossible for me to find dumb women attractive. I would assume that would be the same for men. Of course with the dating pool so shallow nowadays, I assume some women just take what they can get.

7. The Standards

What are the standards? You know, things like outwardly picking your nose, farting, or any of the other bodily functions one should reserve for private time. I know a chick who will burp, and then tell you about it. Needless to say, not very attractive.

8. Being a clutz or a klutz, depending on which way is the correct way to spell that

You know, nothing is worse than essentially being the embodiment of this statement: Girl, he’s fine, but…

Or. Son, she’s fine but…

Anytime you have a but attached, you just aren’t ranking high enough. And just being a total clutz or klutz from jump will do it unfortunately. If you spill my drink on me I’m going to not only wonder how in the hell you made that happen seeing as it was my drink, but i’m gonna be pissed. It’s hard to see attractiveness when pissedness comes into play.

Unless you’re just that fine where it doesn’t matter. Which is possible. Trust me.

9. Wear more makeup than Homey Da Clown.

Maybe this is just a personal thing. I don’t mind makeup. But I do mind additional faces created by too much makeup. And maybe I couldn’t tell that from afar. Upon closer inspection, you can become very unattractive if I’m not sure if your face really belongs to you or not. Nothing is scarier than possibly waking up next to a Gremlin. I’m probably not most men, but I’d just pass on that shit.

10. Have the ugliest walk known to man.

This an entire other post, but an ugly walk, will totally fuck up your attractiveness. If you walk like you never quite learned how to do it, well, you’re gonna be busted. Like I said, that’s another post.

These are but a few ways to become unattractive in 10 minutes or less. Don’t let it be you.

Unless of course you’re already busted in which case, it doesn’t matter and you can proceed as normal.

[***I hear that there's some dude out there named Panama who writes long posts. I'm sure glad I'm not him. Ole long winded self! Yes, that means this is long. ***]

Who knew one song could cause so much intra-race controversy?

It’s been a few days since the world found out that it is, indeed, hard out here for a pimp. Three 6 Mafia couldn’t have predicted that a year ago, a song they were commissioned to do for an indepedent movie would be placed on center stage during Hollywood’s biggest night. After all, they were just doing what they were asked to do; create some original songs for the pimp-turned-rapper, DJay, to perform in the movie that pertained to his pimpin’ lifestyle.

And now, “It’s Hard Out Here For A Pimp” won an accolade that many people wish to have on their resume.

And a lot of black folks are pissed. Which isn’t surprising.

And the title of this post had little to do with anything, I just like the song. It’s by Blue Oyster Cult.

Rock on!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There have been articles all over the internet, national newspapers (more specifically, the Washington Post ran two articles that I’m aware of) on both sides of the coin. Some people are happy that they won, or think that it was good for hip-hop while others are completely aghast, disappointed, pissed, and offended.

I believe that some black folks think this is akin to “Plymouth rock landing on us…again…followed by Chris Rock, Rock ‘n Roll, and Prudential.”

You know, piece of mind, it comes with every piece of the rock.

*rimshot*

Hell, I’ve heard people refer to Three 6 Mafia’s winning of the Oscar as confirmation of white America’s love for black modern day minstrel shows.

Others hate that black stereotypes are lauded.

Well, you get the picture. A lot of black people are very upset with this.

And in some ways, I can understand…but that’s only because I’m very aware that a lot of black people care a whole hell of a lot about white people’s perception of us. Somehow, it seems that our own self-perception is tied into how white America views us.

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, black folks are full of shit.

Why do we care so gotdamned much about how they see us? Really. I want to know.

Black people are so full of concern over our image (as it was pointed out to me last night, and I can’t believe I never thought about this, but we even have the NAACP Image Awards…good God) that we hate anything that can be deemed contrary to what we would like our image to be.

Mind you, I understand the need for balance. To be honest, I’d wager that there is more balance nowadays, outside of mainstream hiphop, than there ever has been before. I can’t think of a single scripted show featuring majority black people on television that doesn’t feature upwardly mobile, well-to-do black people. Black people with degrees and businesses, etc. You know, the people like a lot of us. With the image that we want.

And you know my problem with that? It’s all steeped in how we want to be viewed by larger society…you know, white people.

How in the hell can we progress if our entire self-image is rooted in how we would like to look to white people?

And I’m no better at times. I pride myself on usually not giving a flying fuck what most white people think about me. I kind of march to my own beat most of the time anyway, so even black folks are confused. But there are times when I’m just as guilty of caring about white people’s opinions as the next person. And that is stupid.

It’s impossible to improve your own situation when you’re too busy trying to make sure you look good to a group that, for the most part, doesn’t give a shit what image you put out there. How can we, as black folks, even figure out what’s best for us as a community (assuming that any of us really do give a shit about that community thing since I figure most folks care about what white folks think because of how it might negatively impact them as individuals) if our entire goal is to make sure that white people see that some of us do have degrees and jobs.

Especially when they already know that since they give some of us jobs. Begrudingly at times, but they do.

For the most part, I manage to live my life according to my own liking. And do you know why? Go ahead…take a gander…

…it’s because I’m free.

We have a long way to go in race relations. Clearly, but last I checked, I was free. I didn’t have to live my life dictated by the whims and musings of white people.

So why do so many of us do that? Why do we try to do all the things that one wouldn’t typically associate with black. Hell…why do some folks think they have to dissociate themselves period?? I’ll never understand that.

And speaking on race relations, I find it funny that we want mainstream media, and essentially white America’s perception of us to be perfect…because don’t get it twisted, we don’t want them to have a balanced view of us, we want them to think of us as equals, but in that equality lies a want to be considered as educated people who are as successful as they are at many different ventures. Anytime we can show white folks that we aren’t all poor, we make strides to do so.

But…we also want white people to still recognize racism. It’s like we want white people to look in the mirror and say, “yes you fucked over black people, but still they rise, like the tides. and despite the slip and slides, they rise…they took all that racism and made it anyway.”

Come on…how realistic is that? We want instant gratification and recognition. It’s going to take some time. Hell, we JUST started getting into white schools almost 50 years ago. And that took a landmark Supreme Court case. It isn’t like we were welcomed with open arms, an apple, and some Mentos.

The freshmaker.

Hell, do you even realize that the entire last few paragraphs were all about our dealings with white people? And how we want them to essentially welcome us to the table? Are you still reading right now anyway?

Why don’t we care more about what’s going on inside our our communities first…then worry about what the hell else white folks think? It isn’t like racism is going anywhere anytime soon anyway. Just because we THINK that they look at us differently doesn’t mean they do does it? Or is that what it’s all about anyway…

…we just want to FEEL better about ourselves…and if we feel white folks feel good about us, then maybe we will feel good about us too.

Man, I miss Ice Cube from 1991. For all of the criticism he caught, he had the right idea. Focus on us first, fuck how they think.

This is why we can’t rise as a people, X. It has nothing to do with Three 6 Mafia. They won that award because the Academy didn’t give a shit about how we view ourselves. They liked the song. Same reason Terrence Howard was nominated for his role, because he played a good ass pimp (no pun intended).

Somebody needs to do a study on why we’re so good at portraying the very stereoypes we rail against.

And on why we care so damn much what white people think…please, somebody explain it to me.

(And on how we can keep Flavor Flav on TV for as long as possible, with a possible reality show featuring Crunchy Black as well.)

(Most Known Unknowns no longer…now white people know who you are.)

“Crunchy Black has an Oscar. We have to prepare ourselves for the fact that the world may be coming to an end.” ~ semi-incorrect words (Cruncy Black actually isn’t one of the authors or producers of the song…hence he didn’t really win shit…but the sentiment is still right) uttered by my boy The Great, shortly after Queen Latifah announced to the world that members of Three 6 Mafia won the oscar for Best Original Song.

And I couldn’t be happier. Well aside from the potential end of the world, but I had a good run.

Seriously.

Admittedly, I’m black.

Yes I know. Shocking. What that means is that much like every other black person that can read or even knows who Truman Capote was, I was a tad nervous as to what the Three 6 Mafia was going to bring to the stage last night. Nervous might not be the right word.

Terrified might be more appropos.

Honestly, I hid under my couch while they were performing. Okay, that was dumb. I don’t have a couch. I have a futon.

But lo and behold, Three 6 gave us the absolute whitest rendition of that song they could give, complete with white interpretive dancers and…fuck it, they gave us interpretive dancers period. There was actual choreography (and they thanked the choreographer on stage…who saw THAT coming?) to give the song somewhat of a more finessed feel. And it worked. I’m as amazed as anybody else, but it worked. It was a good performance. Very white (mainstream), but good.

After it was over…I made sure to look out my window to see if time had magically reverted back to the mid-1800′s. Apparently, they DID NOT set us back.

Even Taraji Henson was lovely, if not a smidge out of place in her Oscar gown. I love her. She’s so ‘hood it’s ridiculous.

To cap off the toned down performance, Taraji Henson ended the song with a run that I couldn’t find on my Hustle & Flow soundtrack for shit. I listened over and over again and it just wasn’t there. Yes, I own it. And love it.

Basically, they did what anybody put in their position would do. They made you focus on the actual song as opposed to the people delivering it.

Which is the EXACT opposite of what a good 99% of us expected.

We ain’t shit.

A damn shame how sometimes we forget that though some of these rappers seem to exude ghetto-ocity in everything they do, they are ultimately smart people who have made moves and shakes to be successful at their chosen field. We don’t give them much credit apparently. And we can argue about their business acumen later, but you will be wrong.

However, as surprised as I was at the performance, NOTHING prepared me for the fact that they would actually win the Oscar for Best Original Song…against Dolly “My Boobs Are Too Big To Box With God” Parton.

And once again, I couldn’t be happier.

Since they are black, out of nowhere, we got the obligatory…”thank you Jesus.”

Good times.

But back to the surprise of them winning. You know, I know a lot of black folks who have disdain for the movie and further couldn’t care less about no damn “It’s Hard Out Here For A Pimp” song. Me, I love the song. I’ll be the first to tell you.

I’m a fan of Three 6 Mafia. I’m not saying that they are the best rappers out there, but I’ll be damned if they can’t put together a good album. And who wasn’t bumping “Stay Fly (High)” since last summer? But many a nigra was downright offended by the Oscar’s choice of that song. Not even realizing how good the song was IN RELATION TO THE MOVIE. It fit the movie to a “T”…which is the POINT.

[***Sidenote: What the fuck does that saying "to a T" mean anyway? Is it because the the horizontal line sits right up there perfectly balanced in the actual formation of the "T"? And does it matter if its lowercase? Also, does that take into account the use of nails and other hardware in today's societ? Inquiring minds would like to know. ***]

We fell into the old, “well see we only get nominated for shit like that…” Yada yada yada. And since there were so many people who either hated or loved the movie, black people that is, had we been voting, it wouldn’t have won.

Thank God for white people. Oh, and the Academy… who are the ones who voted for that song to win. Oh right, I had the Academy covered by saying white people. Let Halle, Denzel, and Jamie Foxx in and I done plum forgot that that’s only 4.

Speaking of which, somebody needs to get Denzel’s vote card…STAT. I wonder which song he voted for? Because you KNOW Jamie Foxx voted for “…Pimp” to win. Did you see how happy he was??? I myself just laughed for a good 5 minutes. In glee bitches, in glee.

Hell, now I’m waiting for them to drop their next album featuring the lead-single, club banger, “Bitch I Got An Oscar”. I think it would go something like this:

“they hatin’ on us but we did it/so fuck all them hatin’ violatin’ ass bitches/you bitch nigga’s sittin at home had to watch us/cuz I’m Juicy J and Bitch I got an Oscar”

Speaking of which…on the song “Stay Fly (High)”, Juicy J quips: “I ain’t Denzel, but I know I’m a star”. Well, now you and Denzel have both been recognized by the Academy. You both have Oscars. What are the odds of seeing a collabo between Jamie Foxx, Denzel, and Three 6 Mafia doing a song called “Oscar Nigga!”

There’s so much potential out there now.

Also, what are the odds on Kanye deciding that he wants an Oscar now too. He is doing the song for “Mission Impossible 3.” Will we have to hear him bitch and moan if he doesn’t win next year? Probably…but fuck him today, because Three 6 Mafia is on top of the world.

As much as we want to hate on them, those niggas got themselves an Oscar. In the famous words of Jon Stewart:

“Martin Scorcese zero Oscar’s, Three 6 Mafia…one!”

Collar’s were popped, clubs were torn up, spinners were rode, two-ways were exchanged with freaks, and sizzurp was sipped.

And George Clooney got bigged up.

“You leave you’re Oscar ’round me, bitch you’re Oscar gonna get snatched up…”

Good damn job.