I Just Don't Get It (a REALLY old post I didn't publish but will share for your enjoyment)

I know someone who used to say (and, now based on pretty concrete evidence has put her money where her mouth is), that she could only date guys of one certain race because they were the only types she was attracted to . . . . hmmh

I'll write more later, but come on, REALLY?

Yes, many people have a "type". But there are always some seriously good-looking people who fall outside of that type.

And the most ironic thing is that this person stuck to her guns, getting one of her "types"; but if that's the sacrifice you have to make to stay true to your self-- then maybe one's type/taste just isn't so good. OK, looks, sans trabajo ≠ good looking, even IF you actually are . . . .

At Least He Said, "I'm Sorry" (for accidentally shooting you)

Another week (last), another brutha shot by a policeman.

Those who think this is ok will say, well he shouldn't have been trying to sell a gun to an undercover officer. But similar to the Walter Scott scenario-- you MAY remember his being killed ummmm . . . . . last week-- a busted tail light, or selling a gun (not pointing it, etc), walking around in a hoodie (oh wait, that killer wasn't even a cop-- THANKS Florida!) are not crimes that should to a death sentence. I mean maybe in N. Korea or in ISIS controlled territory. But I wasn't aware that we'd altered the US Constitution to revoke the right to a trial by jury in lieu of summary execution?! I think I missed that Amendment.

So I mentioned in the past few days-- running from the cops probably isn't the best idea. In most people's minds that equates to he/she's guilty, otherwise they wouldn't run away from me. And while most humans would probably think similarly, the simple conclusion is that someone running AWAY FROM you poses little threat to your personal safety. Maybe they're running off into the woods because they're a Prepper (is that correct?) and they just happen to have a stash of guns, grenades, bombs, anthrax, maybe an F-16 in the woods RIGHT by where they were pulled over (Oh wait, that's the honkys (ha-ha) who do that sh**. Bruthas are too lazy to be diggin' some big hole to put all their gold chains and guns in-- just in case the end-of-the-world were to begin.)

But on a serious note-- and this would take another entire entry or two or five-- guess what: There are larger, engrained dynamics at play around why more bruthas (per capita) have runs-ins with the law. Similar to the economic dynamics laid out in my oft-read and cited piece on immigration (and how THOSE people are ruining our country, btw), there are similar historical and cultural forces at play here.

Ask yourself, why would somebody want to go out and make maybe what, $400/week ($20,800, gross/year), at a fast-food joint when you could, what, double that with a little more risk-- i.e. engaging in slightly "more risky" work (or in the other case, crossing the border-- though the multiplier there is closer to 10x).

I wonder if I should just change the name of your beloved "Stuff" to "Shootin' Bruthas"?

The NEEEEEW Style

4 and 3 and 2 and 1-- what up-- and when I'm on the mic the sucka's run . . .  just like Walter Scott tried to do

The latest officer-"involved" shooting in Charleston raises questions about whether a fashion change might actually help save lives.

Of course, we start with the assumption that running from the cops isn't the best idea; that could of course be coupled with another heuristic that shooting someone in the back-- who is retreating or running AWAY from you-- constitutes murder.

But what if we gave up the saggin' pants (and also suits and other normal clothes) and started wearing kevlar vests with helments-- maybe a little lower abdomen body armor to protect the intestines and nads. While it might not LOOK so cool or tough, such "fashion" could have stopped most, it not all of the bullets the struck Walter Scott.

I mean how coo . . . ., errr, protected-lookin' is this guy?! (still needs the groin accessory)


You can even get one for your pet!





There cold be an entire cottage industry just waiting to spring up. You could probably even weave kevlar into some trousers (shout out to my UK peeps!). If you could get some of those bruthas I see with pants just about to fall down to pull them up,  my kevlar Sean Johns could totally look hella cool and also save lives.

Of course, it would set you back a cool $300- $500 for such a survival, I mean, STYLE investment! Luckily, black goes with everything!

R.I.P. Tweety

Naming her Sylvester would have been a perversion because my cat—no, not the one in the video below (testing, testing)—just killed a real Tweety bird. Unlike the well-known London parakeets or the famous San Francisco parrots, I haven’t seen any tropical-looking birds in my brief time here, so I fear it may have been a pet that escaped. The poor creature obviously did not know not to land anywhere in Boom-Boom’s range—I don’t even know that trees are safe! Lizards, the occasional frog and one snake have so far been her quarry. But after one bird earlier this week + this bright, beautiful little avian, I think it may be time to invest in a bell—I’ll tell Boom Boom that her momma made me do it!

I'm Back . . . Again!

I hope none of you have been holding your breath for the entire time, but I'm back on the airwaves! I've even already posted something for your thought and enjoyment.
And there's more to come.
It's exciting, isn't it-- not that I'm back, just that the world's so eff'd up that there's no shortage of things to write . . .  I mean, BLOG, about.

If I Could Only Get Over There In Front Of You, I’d Say FREEZE (then you’d also know that I have my gun aimed at you)

-->

So the latest police killing of an unarmed (black) person—this time for a non-functioning tail light—spurred the usual conversation about how utterly ridiculous, not to mention illegal, it is. One aspect of the conversation was the victim’s profile—50 yrs old, dressed normally, BLACK, etc. A side mention was made about how could someone with a gun, who’d just used a taser be worried about someone like that—i.e. it’s not like the victim looked “thuggish” (which still doesn’t wipe away one’s civil rights and liberties—on paper at least).

Then I got to thinking about my personal appearance. My wife will tell you I’m not the fanciest dressed; it’s more like people might toss me spare change if only I had a receptacle held out. But there have been a copule of times where I dressed like a straight up gangsta— loc's ("lokes") (at night), saggin’ pants, lid, and the stroll. The only thing I was missing were the Crip slips and corn rows.

It was Halloween-- actually 2 in a row due to my lack of creativity. Both instances were a) as a Stanford student, b) on Stanford’s campus,  c) at Stanford parties, where d) I didn’t encounter any (university) policepersons. I wonder if the situation would have been any different had I been walking through Palo Alto  (dressed like that) minding my business on a different night, or even on Halloween for that matter.

Fast forward10 years to New Orleans—where I actually had a gun pulled on me by police—where I was working as a Associate attorney at one of the city’s (more formerly than current) hoity-toity law firms. How it happened is a long and sad story of ignorance of the 3 cops who entered my house with a gun drawn. But the question is, in suit pants and a t-shirt (in my own house)—the oppressive NOLA climate compelled me to strip off the top, dress-shirt and tie layer as soon as I got inside—did I look THAT much more threatening than when dressed as a gangsta? Luckily, I didn't happen to walk out of the kitchen to greet said cops while holding a knife-- small or large-- I'd just used to cut a sandwich. Otherwise, I guarantee you I wouldn't be here to write this!

As I (luckily) didn’t encounter any police officers on those Halloweens, I don’t have any incident to compare to my NOLA run in. But suffice it to say that if I looked like a possible thief in my partial suit, who knows what the translation/reaction in their minds would have been were I dressed like a thug? I guess I’m just fortunate it wasn’t in my Stanford Halloween costume when those who serve and protect us busted into my house to serve and protect me from . . . . .myself??