Preacher Man (as required by Internet Rule #47854)

Ramblings Post #138
I don't really do scandal. I can do gossip a little, but I draw the line at scandal. It's fun for a minute, but then you realize it's real people, not scripted drama where the actors all go home at night. Then you have to go WHOA. Because everybody in a scandal, especially those at the edges, don't always deserve to be there.

You may live in a part of the country where things like Unemployment, Human Rights or Middle East Peace Process are the top stories of the day. Or maybe the ailing budget of the US government, long term environmental impact of industrial accidents, deflation worries of the current wages of the modern worker, or changes in socioeconomic trends that indicate a coming shift in the always moving balance of the world's power and thus the future standard of living for you, me and, well at this point, my most likely imaginary progeny.

Or...if you live where I live, you could be worried about the image of a preacher who may or may not be sleeping with young men.

You see what happens when you put these things in perspective?

Now, I'm not a legal scholar, or a crisis expert, but that preacher man down at the church called New Birth (25,000 strong) is in a peck of trouble, and is not handling it well at all. The suits filed at this point number four, and I think we're maybe two more from someone making the Tiger comparisons. Or the Micheal Jackson comparisons. Not the greatest company for a man of the cloth. I could make a call, I think Tiger's folks are free right about now.

I didn't wait with baited breath like some for Eddie Long's response to the allegations, but I do know he needed to at least, for his supporters, deny them, instead what he did - making a vague reference to fighting it in court. You could fight it in court and win, and still be gulity of the actions. The other side just may not have enough evidence to prove anything. What he gave was a legal answer, one as a lawyer you will tell or write down for your client to make. Calculated words. It begs the question of why not deny it? The legal response that has to be filed pretty much will deny it all, it has to, so why not have him say it on the stage? Like those pictures of him in a muscle shirt that "apparently" were sent to the young men, it makes you think.

I read the complaints, which are online, and even with my naive legal eyes I can see trouble. The suits name Eddie Long in particular, but also the church as a whole as a defendant. And it mentions how the church spends it's money. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that this means at some point the plaintiff is going to want to go over the church's books with a fine tooth comb. If nothing else, nobody wants that. A church's books and how it handles its money are one of the last great vestiges of mafia accounting and creative "figuring" left in America. A trip though them will take a forensic accountant or six, two NASA scientists to keep the numbers straight, and Lara Croft.

In the interest of full disclosure, my own relationship with God has always been more personal. I grew up in the South, where the preachers sometimes kept the collection money in the trunk of their car and occasionally visited attractive female parishioners to "lay hands" in private. My father referred to that type as "Jackleg preachers", and although I never understood the complete meaning of the term, I knew it wasn't a compliment. So there's that background, and the idea of needing an intermediary to learn the word or speak to God never really sat well with me. My grandmother taught me he was everywhere, always listening, so I figured I could directly talk to him whenever I needed to and I can read the word myself. I'll listen and learn. I'll fellowship. But I can't take any man's word as gospel if I got a bible and brain myself. But that's just me.

I can't say if Bishop Long did or did not do what he as been accused of. But I can say with what little I know, the plaintiffs should be able to get at least into "Discovery". And that's when the fun starts.

Barkeep. Just start pouring, we're gonna be here awhile.

Swerve Hard to the Left

Ramblings Post #119
To get into a pool, you don't wade in, you go to the deep end, close your eyes hold your breath and step off the side. Wading in gives you the full COLD experience, where you have a chance to rethink your position. And you hesitate and waver. Stepping off the side commits you. The problem is knowing when to step off the side, and when to wade in. I've been wading too much lately.

I joined a Cult!

Or rather the cult is trying to get my undying devotion, they already got my money.

No, I will not be handling snakes or shaving my head anytime soon, but neither will I be chanting my new peoples mantra "Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels". The people who can say that with feeling have never tasted ribs.

As you may or may not have sussed, true to my previous promise, I am currently on a diet. Or rather, not on a "diet". What I have done is I have made a fundamental change in my future dietary habits for the betterment of my overall health and welfare, because as we all know, diets do not work. And if you're any kind of thinking adult, you know that statement to be a crock.

A little bit too close the truth, thank you.

By that I mean that most people on diets are looking for a short term solution to a short term issue : they need to fit in a particular piece of clothing or look a certain way for a certain event. The people who tell you diets don't work assume that the dieter thinks that by not eating, I dunno, fill in the blank here, for a short amount of time that they'll suddenly be a size 2 or whatever - you know, like an idiot. Best case scenario for the dieter, it leads to bigger ...er, smaller things. With this program I check in and get weighed two to three times a week, keep a tight food diary, and currently have less food in my fridge than I've ever had since I had a fridge to call my own.

Okay, this part of my change...the ultra strict part - practically no salt, no sugar, fresh fruit and veggies, limited select carbs, etc ...is a temporary situation. Another couple of months, by which time my dietary habits ...and hopefully my taste buds... will have adjusted. I'll be, well, we hope I'll be my same weight as when I graduated high school. Or close to it. Back when I was fine. Man fine. "Cock Diesel" we used to call it.. Then we go to a stabilization and maintenance part. That whole "good gift in a bad package" thing Schmoopy said kinda ....irked me. But if we get to the end and I find out I can never have pizza or ice cream again, the phrase you want to use "there is gonna be some furniture moving". I got dinners and brunches ( i love brunch) to eat with my peoples! And my peoples is important!

My end goal. Cock Diesel.
Okay, not really..He don't look like he eats well.

Important people. To me. Family. Friends. It brings us to the point I originally meant to make: dieting is selfish. Very selfish. And rude.

Perhaps the average person can attend to a party or social function and not eat or drink anything, or can socialize with only water and not your standard recreational lubricant, again and again and again, but I doubt it. Nobody likes the person who ALWAYS brings their own food, or asks for something special, or whatever (unless it's a serious medical condition. And even then, a trip to the emergency room isn't the end of the world). A diet makes you plan your day around eating. You don't go out to eat because they don't make the food correctly (or worse, EVERYTHING will have to be special order), or go to a party because you can't eat X after six, or you need to eat Y at least three hours before bed. Food becomes your life.

And that's odd. Because a diet is supposed to get your focus off food.

I think about all those girls drinking bottled water at the parties and I know social interaction is a trying thing for people on a fixed diet.. Those are some mean women. And how do you go out with friends who are -- sharing nachos, tasting the shrimp cocktail, splitting an order of wings, etc, and not appear rude by not at least tasting something? One of the big things in Law School is the Thursday night hangout after the last class of the week - which involves both drinking and snacking! To go and neither eat nor drink? Really? And forbid you find yourself in such a situation as a bit of social lubricant would make a evening just a bit more bearable. You torture yourself by sticking around, or insult your company by leaving early. Somebody has to lose.

It's why my grandma was a little upset I didn't eat when I saw her, and why I had to leave the wedding reception early.

No, a diet, and having to refuse to break bread with friends and family, is by in large rude. And as a reasonably sized black guy in a world not my own, rude things are not really an all too exciting option. It may work for a your small blond female (i.e, diet counselor) but if you're a guy whose less than a 10, and little shy - well, shy when sober - you're really in trouble. But they're your friends you say, they'll understand. They may the first or second time, or even be accommodating as we go on, but the difference is there.

How do I know this?

A friend of mine stopped drinking, and we stopped hanging out. Not that I'm a inveterate drunk, but a large number of the social functions I attend -- my social circle, if you will - revolves around potential inveterate drunks. And their tool of choice. So he stopped hanging out to avoid the temptation, and we stopped kicking it regular. He's still invited, he just chooses not to make the trip for his own well being. Changes to people, sudden dramatic changes, change relationships. When you stop doing those things that brought you together, even if those things were socially inconvenient, what's left? I mean we still talk, but it ain't the same.

I'm on a di...er, I've made some changes to my intake, which means changes to my life. I don't go out as much, or do as much because of it. And to those who think, you just need "new" friends, you need to remember you can't just run down and pick up some new buddies at Walmart. Real friends don't just pop out of the air. Friends take time, and since I got work in the daylight and school at night...when is this time supposed to happen?

How I'm supposed to look from the side when it's done. Hopefully the woman will be included

Health is one thing. Friendship another. Balance.

I've worked to hard and too long on these relationships to break them up over something like this. And yes, you read that right.

Barkeep. Apparently I'm not supposed to be drinking. So give me a Whiskey!

Internet Rule #47854

This is an Administrative Post
As a brief explanation, every now and then I'll feel the need to explain myself. These will be administrative posts. There is a high probability however, you'll leave more confused than when you arrived. So, everybody clear on what probably isn't going to happen? Good, tea and crumpets all 'round then?

I've referred to this internet rule in the past, and I think it bears some explanation. It's a little known internet rule, unlike say the infamous Rule #34 - if it exists, there is porn of it - or Rule #1 - you don't talk about... well, you know that one, I mean the internet is a shifty bunch. Sometimes I think that this rule specially applies to blogs written by black guys. It requires the writer to comment on the major topic of the moment, whether he wants to or not, to stay relevant in the eyes of his adoring masses.

Thus I've written about things I really have minimal interest in, usually letting you know that I have minimal interest in them and usually why. (See posts regarding Halo and Lost)

Which unusually makes for a fairly decent post. Damn. The rule does work. Funny, I didn't see that coming.

You have now been warned.

Barkeep, a quick shot while everybody's looking at the slides.

Listening to Jazz

Personal Rehab Post #6
Next in a continuing series of posts designed to let out the demons that lurk in the dark recesses of my memory. Okay, more aptly, to the kill the roaches of impluse that are skittering about as pack and fold away hopes and dreams of a future with somebody and put them into that part of my soul I keep locked. Isn't that a better visual?

And as I they say...the band played on. Sometimes you get what you ask for, then if you're lucky...you'll get to see what it is you actually need.

A print from art.com

I like Jazz and Classical music.

I used to listen to jazz infrequently, mostly as a side to something else or if a riff would catch my ear and stay there. I'd heard of the greats, Miles, Bird, Coltrane, etc. The same with Classical, where I knew the standards and would occasionally find a quartet or a chord that was simply moving. But I never gave it much thought. I knew how to find them on my music channels on DirecTV but that was about it.

But as of today my radio is tuned to classics all the time. In Atlanta the station WABE is the home for classics and NPR. I listen to them, some sports talk and a I'm considering upgrading to the CD player.

But, you say, you're a socially active nearing middle aged African American male? Shouldn't you be listening to a R&B station, or an oldies station or pretending your ten years younger than you are and listening to a hip hop station although the last time you went to one of the events they advertise you were mistaken for a narc? (incidentally, that's a true story)

Well, it's the Sporty thing.

You'd be surprised how many songs are about love. Or in hip hop about sex. And or both. Which is what I like to call bad juju. I have a hard enough time with the occasional stray thought that needs banishment, a few songs which I really like but had mentally associated with certain things can bring on a depression faster than a trip down an elevator shaft. I really like Angie Stone and John Legend, but can't listen to them right now. Same with Luther, Prince, and really most music with words. One semi-sappy "baby" and I'm about to break down.

Which is a bitch because I love all music. I grew up when there was no country music channel, no black music channel or Latin music channel, just MTV. So you had to sit through all the music videos to get to the one you wanted, and you got to where you could appreciate all of them and the music they contained.

On a side note, MTV sucks now precisely because they don't play any videos.

I listen to Country and Western sometimes, I mean I am from the country. And since Country and Western ...no, not "New Country", the old stuff... is almost nothing but how you been done wrong by somebody that's out. I mean when you can name a song "When you leave walk out backwards so I can pretend you're coming in"...I mean really. That's pain right there.

So no hip hop or R&B or oldies, but why Jazz and Classical?

Jazz for the most part has no words. Classical when it does have words they're usually in a language I don't speak. It allows a concentration that's usually pretty emotionally undertow free. I read a lot, so it's cool to put on some Jazz or switch up to the Classical channel on my DirecTV, curl up on the couch and not worry about background noises. Or stray thoughts. Sometimes I'll turn it on and try to zone out.

I need to find a good Latin station, something where they don't speak English.

It's been since last December or so since I've listened to regular radio. Damn that's been a long time.

Barkeep. Just gonna sit for a minute. Listen to the melody.

Why be nice?

Yesteday I sent Shade (from my NYE hospital visit - whom I still talk to regularly) her combination birthday-Christmas-New Years-Welcome back-Ground Hog's-Valentine-President's Day present and I remembered why I like to give people stuff. We'd just talked on the phone the Thursday before and she asked me why I would get her anything. My response was a typical guy response, something trite and shallow, and we kind of ended it there, but I thought about it and now ask myself why would I go through the trouble? She's not my girl, or on track to be my girl. We've not seen each other in years, but the internet and cell phones have kept us in contact. She has her life and I have mine. So why?

I'm not sure.

Maybe it's because I have so much affection to give, and now, no one to give it to that I'm searching out people to direct my energies towards. Unfortunately for me, I have an odd tendency to only want to the best - silly me - and thus a lot of the women I associate with and are interested in are beautiful, sexy, ambitious and completely unavailable. They always like me, hell everybody likes me I'm that kinda guy, but these women are usually spoken for (some measure the time they've been single since they were fourteen in minutes), or not looking (because some guy before got happy and fucked it up) or I slip and fall and end up in the friend zone (which is technically the same as being gay for all intents and purposes).

I like happy people. What can I say? Over the years I gifted Sporty so much, I felt bad adding up the numbers.

I like to cook for friends. I like to make drinks for women. I remember birthdays, holidays, favorite flowers, sizes, interests, and crap like that without thinking. I'm bizarrely thoughtful. I help out and pitch in and all that. I enjoy the practice of making the people around me better, and then afterwards giving them gifts. I believe I have a problem.

That, and I like to drink. And sex.

Now, I can be stingy, evil even when offended. Occasionally I have "moods"...and once stopped going out with a woman when she wouldn't let me finish a sentence. I'm not perfect. I'm not even close. But I try.

My friends all call me the same thing, which is kinda of insult in this digital world. They say that I'm a "nice guy".

So what is a guy to do?

Barkeep, a tall orange koolaid. Do you have a Star Wars glass?

Poetry

I so desperately want
to run my fingers
along the edge of her soul
the barest pressure
her aura swirled
and feel her essence
slick with anticipation
of my expression
the borders of feminity
swollen with desire
drowning as I give myself mouthful by mouthful
unto supplication
at her core
we touch
our bodies equal and together
our bodies becoming us
her breath at the nape
my hand on her spine
our legs intertwined
our lips touch
mine still wet with her excitement
I want to feel her core
the center of her expanding
our breathing in unison
hearts synchronized
and know the look
her eyes matched to mine
our swagger leaking
into the pool of duo
her body shudder
the smooth glaze of sweat
stifled murmur of joy
that signals her concession
to herself and to us
afterglow

Condi as president?

"Dr. Rice, who I think would be a really good candidate [for President], is not interested. Probably because she is single, her parents are no longer living, she's an only child. You need a very supportive family and supportive friends to have this job."

--the words purportedly of Laura Bush, the First Lady.

Well damn. The president's wife just said a single woman can't be president. Now I'm a man of the first water, and for a minute I honestly believed that the next presidental knockdown was going to be a catfight between the Republican throwaway candidate Condi Rice, and the Democratic Bully one Mrs. Hillary Clinton.

My warped logic: After the debacle that was the midterms and the continuing issue with Iraq, the Republicans ever the forward thinkers would see that this election was lost and offer up for posterity and to unshackle the miniority base of the Dems the first serious Black Female Candidate for the presidency. No, I am not Karl Rove's assistant floating one out there. Hillary on the other hand would ninja her way into the nomination, through that process known politicking (note spelling).

I don't follow politics like sports, but I do dabble enough to know a kick in the teeth when I see one. Laura may have some insight the rest of don't have, but then I think I can draw an ugly enough bead on it.

Condi is not married, and apparently isn't dating anyone though I do understand she once mistakenly referred to the president as "my husband." No, I'm not going to source that. So my question, as crudely as I can put it...where is she getting dick? I have no issue with a wholly active woman, but if she ain't sleeping with somebody, somewhere, then we got a problem.

Did I just say I wouldn't elect Condi cause she's "reserved"? Yes. Yes, I did.

With the media today you would think there would be a hint of who's tapping that. Oprah has Steadman (um..right...), Beyonce has Jay-Z, Halle Berry was seeing some italian dude last time I checked, and the 2nd most powerful woman in the free world is with who? Is there even a hint of somebody? Does one of her security detail look like a maybe? Something.

And if she could swear off sex for ...let's see it'll be eight, then four..twelve years, I'm not too comfortable with her as a person. Even if her sex drive is low, damn that's a long time. Or worse yet, nobody ever tapped it right so she doesn't get it. Woe be the country.

Would the country be better run by a sex fiend? Yes. *cough* billclinton *cough*

Think about it, did you ever notice how in a candidates commercial they always show his/her family? Wonder where those kids came from? That's right, the candidate is subliminally annoucing that if their getting their freak on, their doing it at home. That me and the signifigant other get it on just like you. (Okay, they're usually lying about the home part). And this presents a problem for Condi in the values section, as she is unable to demonstrate on a fundamental level her sharing of the core values.

I'm not even a professional and I can come up with a halfway decent plan that wouldn't look too dirty the make Condi unelectable in about four or five good hours.

Maybe I'm just ranting and raving for nothing, although I just can't see middle America voting for someone named Obama unless between now and the election something changes.

Barkeep - Old crow with a beer back.