CW Speaks

Malcolm X for President

2008-06-06T13:19:00.004-04:00

Who would your ideal presidential candidate be if you could choose anyone? I mean, Barack Obama is cool and everything, and I am certainly happy about his impending Democratic Party nomination, but how about Malcolm X for President in 2008? Yep, that’s right…Malcolm X.

So you’re probably thinking, “All right, Cole. Where are you going with this one? Why on earth would you want a dead man to be President? Better yet, of all the dead men to choose from, why Malcolm X?”

Well, here’s how the idea popped into my head. A few weeks ago, TheRoot.com published an article by Melissa Harris-Lacewell entitled, “Happy Birthday, Malcolm.” The piece begins by quietly highlighting that although the anniversary received little to no hype, May 19th would have been Brother Malcolm’s 83rd birthday. Harris-Lacewell went on to encourage readers to stop identifying Malcolm X as some sort of affectuous pop culture icon and actually revisit him as a man who taught us many “important social and political lessons.” The article hit a lot of points that are very true about Brother Malcolm; that he was a man of “dramatic change,” that there are things about him that remain elusive, difficult, messy and challenging,” and that he had the capacity to “learn, to grow, to discern, and to change direction.” Most importantly, he did so openly, except when he was dealing with the pressures of conflicting emotions about the supremacy and all-knowingness of his leader in the Nation of Islam, the Honorable Elijah Muhammad.

The piece is good. I suggest that you read it. Melissa was on point. But, you know me being a Wiley and everything, I always have to carry things a bit further. I started reading the article and by the end of the column my wheels were turning. Mrs. Harris-Lacewell was right, we would be in much better standing right now if we took some time to revisit El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, AKA Malcolm X. Then again, I’m not so sure that would be enough to get the job done. I think we need Malcolm X to revisit us.

All of this came about at the perfect time because I just finished rereading The Autobiography of Malcolm X this past week. It was the first time that I picked up the book since I was about 12 or 13 years old, around the time that Spike Lee’s film Malcolm X was released and during the period that “pop culture” Malcolm reached a peak in popularity. Although the book had a significant influence upon me as an adolescent, I cannot begin to compare that experience to what I have gone through in dissecting the text as a full fledged adult. We all know what they say about books and how one can pull very different interpretations from the pages when one reads the text and different points in one’s life. Well, I just got pimp slapped by Brother Malcolm’s words. Reading The Autobiography as a relatively carefree and idealistic youth is very different than reading the book as a somewhat skeptical and world-weary man. That is not to say that I am no longer idealistic in any way, but that idealism now comes through in a much more grounded and narrowly-tailored package. In other words, I am an idealist about what I can do, the progress I can make, and where I can end up as an individual, but I am no longer sure that the rest of the world is quite so malleable.

I have a lot in common with Malcolm X. Well, at least I like to think that I have a lot in common with him. The thought makes me feel that I have more significance in this world than I actually do. A dream that I am more provocative and engaging than I actually am. What am I in actuality? Probably just another “educated” brother that is generations removed from the last real collective of black leaders. Just a young guy who is trying to find his relevance in a world that regards the most irrelevant things in life with the highest esteem.

But, one thing is for certain, I do at least have one thing in common with El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz…I live and work in Harlem. I sometimes think about how Brother Malcolm used to roam Harlem when he was working the streets for the Nation of Islam. I also wonder about the things that he may have been up to when he paraded around the neighborhood as “Detroit Red.” I imagine myself striding down the same sidewalks that he did, looking at the same sights that he once laid his eyes on, and maybe even living in an apartment building that he once occupied. One thing is for sure, he and I both view Harlem with a deep affection on some days, and with a depressing dispassion on other days.

“I combed not only the bright-light areas, but Harlem’s residential areas from best to worst, from Sugar Hill up near the Polo Grounds, where many famous celebrities lived, down to the slum blocks of old rat-trap apartment houses, just crawling with everything you could mention that was illegal and immoral. Dirt, garbage cans overflowing or kicked over; drunks, dope addicts, beggars, sleazy bars, store-front churches with gospels being shouted inside, “bargain” stores, hockshops, undertaking parlors. Greasy “home-cooking” restaurants, beauty shops smoky inside from Negro women’s hair getting fried, barbershops advertising conk experts. Cadillacs, secondhand and new, conspicuous among the cars on the street.”

“Harlem’s famous image spread until it swarmed nightly with white people from all over the world. The tourist buses came there. The Cotton Club catered to whites only, and hundreds of other clubs ranging on down to cellar speakeasies catered to white people’s money. Some of the best-known where Connie’s Inn, the Lenox Club, Barron’s, The Nest Club, Jimmy’s Chicken Shack, and Minton’s. The Savoy, the Golden Gate, and the Renaissance ballrooms battled for the crowds…”

“Blacktown crawled with white people, with pimps, prostitutes, bootleggers, with hustlers of all kinds, with colorful characters, and with police and prohibition agents. Negroes danced like they never have anywhere before or since.”

“The first room I got after I left the railroad was in the 800 block of St. Nicholas Avenue. You could walk into one or another room in this house and get a hot fur coat, a good camera, fine perfume, a gun, anything from hot women to hot cars, even hot ice…In several of the apartments the women tenants were prostitutes. The minority where in some other racket or hustle – boosters, numbers runners, or dope-peddlers – and I’d guess that everyone who lived in the house used dope of some kind. This shouldn’t reflect too badly on that particular building, because almost everyone in Harlem needed some kind of hustle to survive, and needed to stay high in some way to forget what they had to do to survive.”

Sometimes I wonder: would it have been better to be in the Harlem that Malcolm described, or in the Harlem of 2008? There are some things that are quite different, but unfortunately there is a lot that is still the same. On the positive side, I don’t see many prostitutes running around Harlem these days. As far as I can tell, that market somehow dried up. Another thing you won’t see in Harlem anymore are glamorous, thriving nightspots. Whether they “[cater] to white people’s money” or not, they just simply don’t exist anymore. I would have at least liked to have spent one night in Harlem lindy hopping at the Savoy Ballroom during those days. There must have been a lot of fun to be had.

Alright, I’m sorry. You’ve had enough of the H.G. Wells day dreaming, so I’ll tell you what you do still see in Harlem these days. Rat-trap apartments (trust me on this one, I looked at a couple first hand when trying to find my place), garbage littering the streets, dope addicts, beggars, hustlers, and pushers (except those hustlers aren’t just driving Cadillacs anymore, there are plenty more makes and models to choose from now). More than that, it seems like there are an awful lot of folks who just seem like they don’t have a damn thing to do all day.

There are days when I love where I live. Soulful music bumping out of apartments and cars. People walking up and down the side streets and avenues as if they never fall out of rhythm. Barbeques in Bill “Bojangles” Robinson Park. Basketball up at the Rucker. Chillin’ at the rec center in Jackie Robinson Park. A late night Jimbo’s meal. Walking up and down Sugar Hill to catch the A and the D train to various parts of Brooklyn and Manhattan. Yet, for all those days, sometimes I look around and wish that my people had something more to their daily routines than they do. I wish they cared enough about their neighborhood to pick up their garbage and clean up after their animals. I wish there were more suits and loafers, and fewer doo-rags and Jordans. It’s kind of funny when you think about those doo-rags too. We stopped wearing conks, Jheri curls, and activator years ago (well, most of us), but those doo-rags ain’t goin’ nowhere. And before you get upset, I know there ain’t nuttin’ wrong with a doo-rag. I used to wear them myself. But, you have to wonder where all these young dudes (and sometimes not-so-young dudes) are going with them on their heads. With rare exceptions, I don’t know of many business meetings where the people in charge sit around with polyster wraps on their heads. That’s why I think it’s best to get your hair right at night and get your mind right during the day. Either way, Harlem is where you’ll find me, just like you could find Malcolm.

Nevertheless, I have digressed. Choosing a President is not about identification with where he resides, it’s about his leadership abilities and the principles that he stands for (or at least it ought to be). Personally, I would rather not have a President that is a politician. At least no more than he has to be in a Machiavellian sense. Hedging is for losers. I would rather have a man that takes a stance for what he believes in. I support a man that has conviction. Brother Malcolm certainly had that. At the same time, he was also a man that learned from his staunch beliefs and realized that no man’s convictions should be absolute (aside from a belief in one’s God) because no man’s knowledge is absolute. I especially respect those whose convictions allow them to criticize their own country, their countrymen, and themselves. There isn’t enough of that these days.

Here’s what Malcolm had to say about American society after the government split up his family and institutionalized his mother once an insurance company’s shenanigans prevented the family from collecting the insurance money they were due after their father’s murder:

“I knew I wouldn’t be back to see my mother again because it could make me a very vicious and dangerous person – knowing how they had looked at us as numbers and as a case in their book, not as human beings. And knowing that my mother in there was a statistic that didn’t have to be, that existed because of a society’s failure, hypocrisy, greed, and lack of mercy and compassion. Hence I have no mercy or compassion in me for a society that will crush people and then penalize them for not being able to stand up under the weight.”

A world without mercy and compassion is not a world that I would want to live in, but I often feel that is the world that we live in. People wonder why Malcolm X was so aggressive and militant in his approach for so many years. Maybe it’s because he just started remembering how America dealt with him and his family. You’ve got to give the dude some credit. Until he was sent to prison on an armed robbery bit, he acted like these atrocious events didn’t even happen to him. Everything that he and his family went through was pushed to the back of his brain. Only when he finally “woke up,” did he really start to figure out what was going on and call people out for what they were doing to the black masses.

More than anything, what I want in a President is someone that works for the benefit of those that need the help the most in the way they need it the most. Inciting them to gain the courage to stand up on their own as men and women and as human beings, entitled to not only their civil rights, but their human rights. Someone who is unafraid and actively involved in pulling those who are in the deepest muck and mire of society. Someone who presents himself as living by a strict moral and ethical code and doesn’t turn out to be a fraud a few months later. A man that is not ashamed to admit that he pulled himself up from the bottom. A lucid and introspective person that can identify the issues at home and talk about their relationship to the global community.

Here are a series of excerpts from The Autobiography where Malcolm X gives some particularly poignant observations about some peculiar Americanisms, whether they are taken in the context of the times or related to today’s world:

“[U]ntil just lately, among the few educated Negroes scarcely any applied their education, as I am forced to say the white man does – in searching and creative thinking, to further themselves and their own kind in this competitive, materialistic, dog-eat-dog white man’s world. For generations, the so-called “educated” Negroes have “led” their black brothers by echoing the white man’s thinking – which naturally has been to the exploitive white man’s advantage.

The white man – give him his due – has an extraordinary intelligence, and extraordinary cleverness. His world is full of proof of it. You can’t name a thing the white man can’t make. You can hardly name a scientific problem he can’t solve. Here he is now solving the problems of sending men exploring into outer space – and returning them safely to earth.

But in the arena of dealing with human beings, the white man’s working intelligence is hobbled. His intelligence will fail him altogether if the humans happen to be non-white. The white man’s emotions superseded his intelligence. He will commit against non-whites the most incredible spontaneous emotional acts, so psyche-deep is his “white superiority” complex.

Where was the A-bomb dropped…”to save American lives”? Can the white man be so naïve as to think the clear import of this ever will be lost upon the non-white two-thirds of the earth’s population?”

Damn, Malcolm. Tell ‘em…

“I would hate to be general of an army as badly informed as the American white man has been about the Negro in this country.

This is the situation which permitted Negro combustion to slowly build up to the revolution-point, without the white man realizing it. All over America, the local Negro “leader,” in order to survive as a “leader,” kept reassuring the local white man, in effect, “Everything’s all right, everything’s right in hand, boss!” When the “leader” wanted a little something for his people: “Er, boss, some of the people talking about we sure need a better school, boss.” And if the local Negroes hadn’t been causing any “trouble,” the “benevolent” white man might nod and give them a school, or some jobs.

The white men belonging to the power structures in thousands of communities across America know that I’m right! They know that I am describing what has been the true patter of “communications” between the “local whites of good-will” and the local Negroes. It has been a pattern created by domineering, ego-ridden whites. Its characteristic design permitted the white man to feel “noble” about throwing crumbs to the black man, instead of feeling guilty about the local community’s system of cruelly exploiting Negroes.

But I want to tell you something. This pattern, this “system” that the white man created, of teaching Negroes to hide the truth from him behind a façade of grinning, “yessir-bossing,: foot-shuffling and head-scratching – that system has done the American white man more harm than an invading army would do to him.

Why do I say this? Because all this has steadily helped this American white man to build up, deep in his psyche, absolute conviction that he is “superior.” In how many, many communities have, thus, white men who didn’t finish high school regarded condescendingly university-educated local Negro “leaders,” principals of schools, teachers, doctors, other professionals?

The white man’s system has been imposed upon non-white peoples all over the world. This is exactly the reason why wherever people who are anything but white live in this world today, the white man’s governments are finding themselves in deeper and deeper trouble and peril.

Let’s just face truth. Facts! Whether or not the white man of the world is able to face truth, and facts, about the true reasons for his troubles – that’s what essentially will determine whether or not he will now survive.

Today we are seeing this revolution of the non-white peoples, who just a few years ago would have frozen in horror if the mighty white nations so much as lifted an eyebrow. What it is, simply, is that black and brown and red and yellow peoples have, after hundred of years of exploitation and imposed “inferiority” and general misuse, become, finally, do-or-die sick and tired of the white man’s heel on their necks.

How can the white American government figure on selling “democracy” and “brotherhood” to non-white peoples – if they read and hear every day what’s going on right here in America, and see the better-than-a-thousand-words photographs of the American white man denying “democracy” and “brotherhood” even to America’s native-born non-whites? The world’s non-whites know how this Negro here has loved the American white man, and slaved for him, tended to him, nursed him. This Negro has jumped into uniform and gone off and died when this American was attacked by enemies both white and non-white. Such a faithful, loyal non-white as this – and still America bombs him, and sets dogs on him, and turns fire hoses on him, and jails him by the thousands, and beats him bloody, and inflicts upon him all manner of other crimes.

Of course these things, known and refreshed every day for the rest of the world’s non-whites, are a vital factor in these burnings of ambassadors’ limousines, these stonings, defilings, and wreckings of embassies and legations, these shouts of “White man, go home!” these attacks on white Christian missionaries, and these bombing and tearing down of flags.

Is it clear why I have said that the American white man’s malignant superiority complex has done him more harm than an invading army?”

Yes, Brother Malcolm. I think it is clear. I’m sorry, did you have something else to say?

“Time and time again, the black, the brown, the red, and the yellow races have witnessed and suffered the white man’s small ability to understand the simple notes of the spirit. The white man seems tone deaf to the total orchestration of humanity. Every day, his newspapers’ front pages show us the world that he has created.”

To me, these words do not sound like some vicious and unfounded attack on white people as some may interpret them. Instead, at their core, they sound like some incredible and insightful thoughts about America’s superiority complex and its wayward foreign policies. Seriously, read it again. Tell me that President Bush shouldn’t have read these passages before he ever stepped into office. Would today’s leaders even consider a concept as inclusive as the “total orchestration of humanity”? Probably not. Even if they did, it would likely just be a front. Ameri-centrism has swept across this country in broad strokes, effectively blinding most citizens to the fact that our nation is but one puzzle piece in the vast global landscape.

The American people wonder why the whole world seems like they are upset at our country. We cannot understand what would motivate them to lash out violently against us. Beyond that, anyone who is against us is a terrorist. Forget the fact that our country is the largest arms producer in the globe…by far. We also don’t seem to realize that we are not seen as a country of individual citizens with varying social and political beliefs by the rest of the globe. We are seen as a brash and insolent collective of warmongers. The notion of America is the notion of ignorance and oppression.

Go ahead, Malcolm. Please, try to tell ‘em:

“Listen! The white man’s racism toward the black man here in America is what has got him in such trouble all over this world, with other non-white peoples. The white man can’t separate himself from the stigma that he automatically feels about anyone, no matter who, who is not his color. And the non-white peoples of the world as sick of the condescending white man! That’s why you’ve got all of this trouble in places like Vietnam.”

We sit around wondering why all these “Afghans” and “Iraqis” and “Arabs” are out to get us. We wonder why in the world these people are willing to sacrifice their lives to have at least some semblance of sticking it to big bad America. Innocent America? Why us? Why would a group of people go to such lengths as to hijack a series of commercial airlines and fly them into the sides of prominent American buildings? Why? Because we are the Sonny Liston of the global community. The big, bumbling behemoth that forcefully intimidates foes with raw power and mercilessness.

Malcolm X was there when Cassius Clay, later known as Muhammad Ali, defeated the big bad wolf called Sonny Liston. Malcolm X also knew, well before the fight actually took place that Sonny Liston was going to lose. In fact, Malcolm stated that Sonny Liston was about to face “one of the most awesome frights that ever can confront any person – one who worships Allah, and who is completely without fear.” It sounds like the man knows what he’s talking about. A man knows his own people. I remember a lot of negative hype being made about Barack Obama’s “Islamic roots.” Apparently, no one would want a Muslim as president of these United States. Forget that. I would love to see a Muslim as President. Think about it. Who are we having all these “problems” with these days? You know who…those “rascally insurgents,” those “religious fanatics,” those “Moo-slims.” In fact, it’s funny that some of complain or don’t understand why some foreigners view us Americans as a homogenous mass when there are a whole lot of people in this country who think that each and every follower of Islam is some sort of trouble or threat to the establishment. How cute.

But maybe a Muslim president would have enough sense to know how to deal with other Muslims in a reasonable and amiable manner. Maybe if Malcolm X were President, he would have made sure that big bad America pulled its troops of out the Middle East long ago, way before the Sept 11th attacks happened. Maybe if Malcolm X were President, we wouldn’t be finding ourselves in the fix that we’re in right now. Maybe if Malcolm X were President, we wouldn’t have been over there in the first place.

So, sure, Barack Obama is cool, and I support the brother 100%, but I would rather put an X next to another man’s name, El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz.

>CW<

Love In This Club

2008-05-19T17:44:00.001-04:00

So, your boy Usher (or Ur-shur for those who choose to pronounce it that way) is making yet another comeback from a 4 year hiatus since he released his last studio album, Confessions. I can’t even fake, I rocked with the Confessions album EXTRA hard. Even the biggest Usher hater has to admit that the album, especially the Special Edition had about 12-14 tracks on it that were Dylan certified ‘hot fire.’

But aside from all of Usher’s recent antics and his decision to marry Chili’s cracked out auntie, his latest single “Love In This Club” got me thinking about a few things that I wanted to share with folks.

Question #1: Is there really any “Love in This Club?”

Hell no. Hell to the fuck naw. Not even close. Most people are probably aware that the typical club atmosphere brings out some of the most basic primordial instincts from the masses, and it doesn’t matter if the patrons are black, white, yellow, or brown. Instinct is instinct, and nowhere is that fact more sadly depicted than in the club on a Saturday night. (Thursday and Friday nights too, and sometimes on a Sunday, but only when we know that we can get away with struggling through a half a day of work on Monday with a hangover). Happy Hour gets a free pass since our primary goal during that social occasion is to melt our liver, not a potential mate’s heart.

That’s not to say that some perfectly happy couples have not met during All-Star Weekend at Club Visionz. That’s right, you spell that last S in Visions with a Z instead…for the flava. Shit, you never know. I might meet my future wife at the club. And in all probability she would likely be my first ex-wife as well…and that’s best case scenario. Worst case scenario, she’ll be my first Keke Wyatt, Remy Ma, or even worse, a Lorena Bobbit…yikes!!! Now, I’m not singling out the women, they just happen to be the candidates that I would take notice of first. Don’t worry ladies, just ask your friends. I’m sure you can get your pick of carnivorous playboys, fake thugs, and borderline alcoholics.

After all, no matter your race, religion, creed, sexual preference, or social dysfunction, there’s love in this club for everyone.

Speaking of throwback (no pun intended) R&B artists, I came across a phrase from an old Ginuwine song that made me rethink this whole “Love In This Club” approach.

Question #2: Is a brotha’s main goal in hitting the club to get “In Those Jeans?”

I would ask Ginuwine to answer this question, but I don’t think that most of us have seen hide nor hair of this kid ever since he had about 8 kids with Sole and Timberland decided to leave him for…Justin Timberlake…lol. I’m sure Ginuwine was probably as hurt any black woman would be if their successful spouse left them for a white girl…cause the situations are almost exactly the same...

At any rate, now that I’m actually OVER the quarter century mark (a fact that is mildly depressing in itself) I feel like the whole trying to get “in those jeans” method is a pretty tired approach. I think that there may be a tactic that is more useful in 2008. Instead of trying to get “In Those Jeans,” what good with trying to get “In Those GENES?” That’s the true grown and sexy approach. The older we get, and the more seriously we start think about why we are courting potential mates in the first place, this concept should be a no-brainer. Intelligence, career aspirations, a close knit family, common sense, honesty, a nice smile, and a kind heart are what’s poppin’ in the new year. If you don’t believe me, peep this conversation that I heard in the club just this weekend. I was going to post this on Overheard in New York (aka Over Fabricated in New York), but I didn’t think it was fictional enough to work:

“What’s good, girl? How you doin’?”

“I’m aight.”

“Girl, I saw you from across the room and I was just wondering what you got on the SAT babygirl.”

“Excuse me.”

“I just gotta know if you were in the National Honors Society, girl. Dean’s list and shit. Did you take the ACT instead? Matter of fact, what’s your credit score? Are you financially responsible? Cause I don’t play around with that shit.”

“Yeah boy, but are you even in a position to be asking me all this? I mean, if you are gonna be asking me all this, you should at least have some experience defending a thesis in a PhD program. Are your forensics skills even on point?”

“Yeah, babygirl. You know it. And on top of all that, I don’t even have any predispositions for high blood pressure or heart disease in my family. So that’s a bonus. Ballin’!!!”

“Oh shit, girl. I got me a baller! Let’s get a bottle of pinor noir instead of that Moet tonight. You know red wine be having them antioxidants and shit. Yeah, girl.”

Now that’s game, right?

>CW<

A Wiley on ESPN.com

2007-03-01T00:18:00.000-05:00

For the first time in a long time, there is a Wiley on ESPN.com...

Here is the link to the main Black History Month page at ESPN.com. My piece is currently the "headliner," but that will likely change soon.
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/blackhistory2007/index?lpos=spotlight&lid=tab5pos1

This is the link that will work in the long term:
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/blackhistory2007/columns/story?id=2782051

It feels almost surreal to be up on there. I wonder what my father would have to say about it.

>CW<

HOFMag.com - "Show Me What You Got," Shawn Carter

2007-01-16T11:23:00.000-05:00

What's goin on family?

In celebration of MLK Day, I decided to write a new piece about Jay-Z and his striking similarities to Michael Jordan. Well, not really... I actually wrote the article a few months ago, but some "administrative delays" have held this one up. Nevertheless, they decided to post this column as a "featured article," or "headliner," or whatever you want to call it. In other words, ya boy has the #1 article on the site.

Check it out folks, I appreciate the support: www.hofmag.com

Happy MLK Day,

>CW<

Who Loves Law Review?

2007-01-16T11:19:00.000-05:00

Written on 3/7/2006

Real talk…is it even possible? Sure, people fake it. They do it quite well. They’ve got to bring new blood into the organization. Then again, that is going to happen anyway, there is no need to shuffle and smile.

Why slave away in the library or the law review boot camp quarters, with a stack of books in front of you, subciting til’ early in the a.m.? Why cross-check citations or tediously scrutinize boring ass articles when you could be sitting around talking about the many meanings of “hooking up?”

Speaking of which, what does it mean when someone says that they “hooked up”? Am I the only person out here who thinks that the term is way too broad and way too confusing? Maybe it’s because I went to an HBCU and we never really used the term. I knew they used the term on MTV and stuff, but its pervasive use still puzzles me.

Back to the subject at hand…

I know that I would never want to commit myself to law review, even if I had the qualifications to be offered a slot. For the record, I didn’t even apply. What is all the work worth? A little bit of prestige? Another notch en route to the pretentious people Hall of Fame? Great, good for you…

Maybe I’m just jealous. Perhaps I am just a hater. Maybe HLS needs another way for certain students to prove that they are “better” than their peers. The HLS culture can try as it may to sell the stratification, but I’m not buying it. I really wish I had the motivation to show and prove in the practice, but I have already decided to gracefully bow out. It’s a shame, I was really ready to show what a non-law review, non-legal aid, non-journal editor, non-research assistant can do…haha.

I guess it all comes down to some larger questions: Why do people actively seek out and endure things that they obviously do not enjoy for the sake of prestige? Is it a need to certify one’s own self-worth? Is it chalked up as a small sacrifice for vague future benefits?

I don’t have the answers, I can assure you of that. But, I am sitting here blogging, and not checking citations. I’m also quite happy to be doing so, and something has to be said for that.

>CW<

Rib of the Buffoon

2006-11-07T21:31:00.000-05:00

Everyone likes a good joke. Even more people like a funny joke.

From your standard knock-knock jokes, dirty jokes, blonde girl jokes, etc., has developed a phenomenon known as ribbing, clowning, bombing, joaning, going on em’, or whatever regional/cultural term that you want to use to describe the use of derogatory remarks to simultaneously put down another person and elicit laughter. There is no way for me to know when “bombing” first started to take place, but I’m sure it has been around for a long time. Usually done amongst friends, or at least common associates, ribbing someone is an easy way to get a belly laugh at another’s expense.

Let’s be honest. On a very basic level, if you do something dumb, you deserve to be ridiculed. People have been doing dumb @#$% for centuries. If we can’t laugh at their idiocy, how else could we possibly tolerate it? That type of ribbing is the source of sarcasm and satire…my two loves in life. But, beyond the context of people saying or doing dumb @#$%, there are more objectionable aspects of poking fun at another that really encapsulate the modern notion of “bombing.” First, there is the realm of “fantasy bombing” where the joker creates something totally fictitious for a laugh. A prime example of “fantasy bombing” is a “Yo Momma” joke. As kids, it starts with stuff like “Yo Momma is so fat that she jumped up in the air and got stuck.” As you get older, the general equation is “Yo Momma + Sexual Innuendo = Joke.” Fantasy bombing can get much more explicit, and can cover a variety of topics, but it can easily be brushed off because there is no truth behind the joke. On the other end of the spectrum is “harsh reality bombing.” This is where folks start to catch feelings. If you have a big head, someone points out the fact that you have a big head, with emphasis. If you have a pot belly, someone reminds you of the fact that you have a huge gut, with emphasis. I am quite sure that this type of bombing crosses many cultural and generational lines, but of course, I am particularly interested in a certain demographic…

Black folks LOVE to crack jokes…that isn’t anything new. There is a certain sense of humor amongst our people, and after all that we have been through, we better learn how to have a good laugh. Nevertheless, I have one going concern with the “harsh reality bombing” that our people continue to wield so viciously. In true School Daze fashion, many of these not-so-harmless jokes seem to shed light on a systemic issue within the black community. It starts with highlighting traits that are “definitively black” in a negative way. A certain nose, certain lips, certain hair, certain complexion, and various combinations thereof. All these are often harped upon and ridiculed as being ugly or undesirable. For hundreds of years, black people have been told that their “identifiable traits” are unattractive. Now we all know there is no basis to that, especially when one considers the influx of Botox, collagen injections, obsessive tanning, and overall bootilciousness that is so pervasive in today's society, but we still continue to go to our coveted “harsh reality bombing.” At this point, I really can’t see more in it than subconscious self-hate. More support for the point comes from a similar time honored tradition of knocking traits that are “commonly Anglo-Saxon.” A light complexion is probably the most common of these characteristics. Not so say that black people idolize a light complexion, but many black folks are not as light as others, so it’s easy to ridicule those lighter folks as “like white.” More than anything, it’s about ridiculing them for not looking like us, and looking too much like them. The idea being to boost one’s self-perception by knocking those that look or act slightly different than yourself. Even the more innocuous jokes about “race-neurtral” traits bother me. Why? Mainly because black folks clown so MUCH; almost as if we don’t have anything else to do.

What does it really mean when we use “ribbing” as an attention-getter? When we ridicule each other as hard as possible for the approval of the audience?

I am not attempting to suggest that I am excluding myself from this not so savory trend. In fact, it was a recent bout of “internet bombing” that prompted me to write all this. After a pretty standard set of “you are this, you look like that” cracks, I started thinking about how generally conceived notions of blackness have shaped our interactions with each other...how they have influenced our propensity to “clown.” I wondered when we became so obsessed with bringing each other down. So, being the guy that I am, and having the sick mind that I have, I decided to do a little experiment…

In the context of this “internet bombing” session, I wanted to venture to the land of absolute buffoonery. I posted a couple pictures on Facebook, purporting to be physical embodiments of a couple of my homies. They are posted below:

So what do you think now? Is that considered to be over the top? OF COURSE IT IS. But strangely enough, it probably, and in some ways tangibly, elicited more laughter than any other, decidedly more tame comments that were previously made. In fact, there was only ONE person that looked at the pictures with an objectionable eye. Well, there was only one person that had the gall to tell me that they looked at the pictures with an objectionable eye. That’s pretty sad when one considers that I called two folks sambos in a semi-public forum…two college graduates at that.

The obvious response is that it’s all in fun, all in jest. As much as I would like to, I’m just not so sure I can buy that. It’s not like we preface all this bombing with the disclaimer, “Hey! I’m just being a satirist!”

But maybe that doesn’t need to be said. Maybe the bonds of friendship nullify all that I have alluded to.

Well, whatever the case may be, at least a good dose of ribbing gives you thicker skin. We all need that because the world can be a cruel place…wonk wonk wonk.

I guess I’ll top it off by repeating something that my father once told me. He said, “the degree of hilarity of a particular joke is directly proportional to the amount of truth it relays.” So I ask anybody who takes the time to read this, are we funny, or are we lost? Are we bamboozled, or are we coping through satire? What truth are we really relaying with our ribs, cracks, jokes, and clowns?

To rib or not to rib…that is what your Momma asked me right before she put down 4 racks of baby back swine at Chili’s last night…

HA (pause) HA

>CW<

HOFMag.com - Spike Lee's Bold Bid for Greatness

2006-09-11T10:04:00.000-04:00

Sorry for the long absence everyone. Been grinding and grinding, while the blog posts are slacking and slacking. Although I will continue to post here, I also have a paid alter ego, a.k.a. Cole Wiley, who is getting paid to work as a columnist for HOFMag.com. Anytime, that I post an entry with HOFMag in the title, please check out the website for the new piece.

http://www.hofmag.com

You will have to register at the website with a username/password, but its FREE. So, please help a brotha out and peep his latest. That's about it. Will be back in the game here soon.

>CW<

Schmoozing for Scallops

2006-04-25T21:49:00.000-04:00

Dinner tonight at Rialto…

For those that don’t know, Rialto is a specific establishment, but it is embodied by any other swanky, overpriced, and bourgeois luxury hotel restaurant that you may be familiar with. Not a place where you will find people like myself too often, especially if I’m paying for it. Not that I couldn’t afford it from time to time; not that I wouldn’t fit in. The spot is just not my style for a number of unidentifiable reasons. Don’t get it twisted, if I throw on a pair of slacks, a nice shirt, a pair of Bally’s, and a little Kush (or Burberry cologne for those not so inclined), I can do a little damage in these types of eateries. But, the whole point is that on this night, at this hour, my behind would not be having dinner at Rialto without it being on someone else’s tab. I can cook some solid marinara from scratch. What do I need Rialto for?

Tonight is a night for recruiting. Summer associate positions have already been offered to a select group of 2nd year law students. An even smaller number of students within this group will accept. Who will survive? Dum-dum-dum…the dramatic sound effects ensue. In actuality, the pressure is not on us…it’s on the attorneys trying to woo us. Even though we still have the job offers in our pockets, we still feel the need to show and prove. Virtually every student in the place has other job offers, but a decision still has to be made. At the bare minimum, an invitation for free food and drinks is hard to turn down, especially when you are living off loans. Free meals are a dime a dozen in law school, but those meals usually don’t include crab cakes, tiger prawns, or the roast duck with the mango salsa…

Mundane conversation is abound. The type of unentertaining banter that would make an average man want to gouge his eye out (sorry, I just got a flashback of Red Dragon). Law students are conditioned to put up with boring conversation. It is their livelihood. Anyone with a minimal amount of common sense knows that lawyers like to hear themselves talk: “My wife and I have an incredibly boring life…” “I am so proud of my children because they have decided to pursue a career that actually has the potential to be even more boring than mine…” “I don’t know how to talk about much that isn’t related to my job…” Wonk, wonk, wonk…

We all suffer through it, or at least I do. Maybe everyone else enjoys this. Maybe I am the only student that finds all of these people to be terribly boring. Do you even understand what “terribly boring” means? I don’t use the phrase often. As a matter of fact, I don’t think that I have ever used it before. It means that it is really hard to even look interested. It’s doubtful that these attorneys even find themselves to be worthy of interest. One wonders: Did they always have dull personalities, or were their individual personality traits wiped away with their suits and six-figure salaries? Maybe there is a disconnect simply because most of them are significantly older than I am. Naw…I’ll be damned if I am going to be this dry when I am 40 or even 60 years old.

Thank God. The waitress is taking orders now. I’ll have the scallops sautéed in white wine and butter sauce, served over a bed of linguine. Another 15 minutes and I’m golden. Hot, buttery scallops for my mouthpiece.

Whew! This is going to be tough. I don’t know if I can make it that long. Let’s see how far I can zone out until my plate of lovely goodness from the sea arrives…

Booooop boooooop…that’s the sound of the police…boooooop boooooop…that’s the sound of the beat. Are there any “you are way too frickin’ boring” police? If not, there should be.

Zo-zo-zo, zone out…zo-zo-zo zone out…

I like cold beverages…red wine, warms my tummy…white wine, makes me feel funny.

I eat so many shrimps, I got iodine poisoning…
I eat so many scallops, uh….hmmmmm
I eat so many scallops, I can’t get up in the morning…

E=MC2

Extreme Boredom = Dinner + Lawyer2

What would Dickens write if he were here?

Her aged, wry hand moves across the table for a piece of bread that is as lifeless as her spirit. Her sorrow and despair are visible in her reach. There is a sullen veil to her eyes and an emptiness to her voice. The frail figure of her overworked body sways from exhaustion. She is a lawyer, at a recruiting dinner…and it SUCKS!

That was a disgrace. Dickens wouldn’t write that in a note to his 6 year old daughter. Ah whatever…

The food has arrived...at last. Snap out of it. You don’t need to daydream anymore. Compose yourself. Don’t lose your job offer by demolishing this plate quicker than Jeff Gordon gets his tires changed at Talladega. Act like you really don’t even want the food. Act like you didn’t even come here for that, even though you know that you did. Let’s be real though. You know that you would eat anything that is deep fried or sautéed right now. Wait, hold on. The scallops are gone already. Dang! There goes the pasta too. That creamy, buttery bliss is now a vague memory.

OMG…Are these people still talking? How can you get out of this ASAP? Birthday party? No, too trivial. Group meeting? They won’t buy that, it’s 9:30 at night. Ahhhh…tell them that you have an 8 a.m. class that you have to read for. Perfect. An excuse with just enough importance, yet it’s totally reasonable. Say goodbye. Smile. Shake. Shake. Smile. You lie and say that you look forward to seeing everyone again, even though you can’t remember anyone’s name.

Coat on, outro.

Awww, @#$%! I forgot dessert…

>CW<

Shuttle In, Shuttle Out

2006-04-19T10:03:00.000-04:00

I have never had a reason to fly into NYC. I’ve ridden the train there a handful of times and driven there many more, but I’ve never had a good reason to leapfrog into LaGuardia or JFK. Maybe it’s because I’m an unimportant person. But, I’m only 23 years old. If there is a suitable time for me to be unimportant, this is it.

Shuttle in.

Seven a.m. shuttle from Logan to La Guardia, feeling quite important. I’m rolling with the big ballers and shot callers now. Three piece suits, Blackberrys, briefcases, and ThinkPads command the cabin. I sip on freshly squeezed orange juice and a blueberry muffin. I paid $7 for it, but what is $7 to a brotha of my stature? Funk that…I ride the shuttle.

I catch a cab to the hotel for an early check-in. I was supposed to be there the night before, but AirTran is a POS airline, so I had to catch the early morning shuttle today. (No, I was NOT flying AirTran into LaGuardia. How dare you even think that? I was flying on AirTran from Newport News, VA the night before and their slacker tendencies forced me to miss the last Delta shuttle that night. Therefore, I had to catch an early shuttle the next morning). At any rate, my schedule is filled up with job interviews. Law firms like me because Harvard says they ought to. I shuffle and smile for my interviews during the day, I relax and kick back with a few friends at night.

Shuttle out.

La Guardia is a zoo of suits that strive to project an image of self-worth. Mr. Grey Pinstripe is important. His thumbs stride over the keypad of his Blackberry with an effortless grace. He has sent out 8 messages in ten minutes. He is a force to be reckoned with. His kids are 12 and 14; they are living with his first wife. Wait, Mr. Grey was mistaken. His kids are 13 and 15, living with his second wife. Mrs. Blue Suit laughs at such incompetent text-message bumbling. Rather than waste her time fumbling over a Blackberry, she uses her cell phone to call her assistant and demands that she do all the things that aren’t in a secretary’s job description. Condescension is her game, and she is damn good at it. Mrs. Blue Suit says that you should have sent out those TPS reports an hour ago. Don’t question the judgment of Mrs. Blue Suit unless you want to feel the wrath of an unmarried, middle-aged, lonely woman with a fistful of cash and a drawer full of vibrators.

I sit and watch. How do I establish my worth? I cross my legs because it looks professional. I read through notes because busy people are supposed to do that. I don’t have a Blackberry, but if anyone asks I am without one by choice. I am old school, and I don’t need all that technological riff-raff. Give me a pad and a pen. Besides, all that flashy stuff doesn’t matter anyway. We are all on the same plane. We are all professionals. They ride the shuttle and so do I.

Dang it. I forgot to send that email to my friend from undergrad to tell him that I am too busy to give him a call. It sure would be nice to have a Blackberry right now…I wonder how much they cost?

>CW<

Hey Scoop...Dig This... Pt. II

2006-04-18T17:39:00.000-04:00

This is an addendum to the previous "legacy" email that I wrote shortly after the initial post. It was in reponse to an email that I got (not from Scoop) which said the following:

A person's legacy is complete upon death
That my father's work should live on as a resource or inspiration to future writers

Here is my response...long-winded as usual...

Much respect where respect is due. There is definitely some truth to what you wrote. In many regards, you are right in your declaration that one’s legacy is essentially complete upon death. That individual is no longer around to add to it, or take away from it. At the same time, I do feel that a person’s posthumous legacy can be significantly affected in several different ways. For instance, a person might have not gotten wide recognition or worthy praise while alive, but for some reason their work blows up years after their death. True, their body of work is complete, but their legacy is still active and has taken a step forward. A person’s legacy can be affected in death in a negative manner as well. Hypothetically, this person already has a reverential presence to their legacy, but something comes along to ‘tarnish’ that image (i.e. Thomas Jefferson and his slave mistress Sally Hemmings, MLK and his alleged infidelities, etc.). In all honesty, these largely frivolous matters do not take much, if anything away from what these individuals accomplished in their time on earth. But in many people’s eyes, there is a certain ‘taint’ that remains. In my eyes, it just makes them appear to be what they are…human.

As far as others being able to “carry on” another’s legacy, there is something there to be upheld. It’s true that my father did what he could do while he was here, and there is nothing that I can do to change that. Despite that, there is certain essence and family name that remains. I do not wish to, do not plan to, and do not expect to do what my father did, much less do it better. I plan to create my own work, build my own reputation, and garner my own accolades in a manner that is reflective of and comparable to the level of integrity and excellence that my father’s work was known and respected for. That is the legacy, and that does not stop. That is purely on a professional level. Those are the grounds of being an artist.

The public may see my father’s work as his legacy. That is not truth. His work is a reflection of, if not, an element of his legacy. Carrying on the legacy by examining and expanding upon his work is expected, but the product of a reflection is never pure. A copy of a copy is never as good or honest as the original. It is impossible for me to even tap into that core, but I might get a little closer than most. This is where the personal level makes the difference.

My father taught me how to be a man. My father fully expected me to continue the Wiley legacy. The father/son relationship that he and I had cannot be contemplated by anyone else on the face of this earth, whether you may or not be acquainted with your own father or not. That was our bond. That was our core. No one knows what legacy means to us. Anyone can speak to their opinion of legacy. That is not difficult to do. But no one but my father and I can speak to the representations and expectations that we wish to present to the world. When he told me to “carry the Wiley name,” there wasn’t anyone else around to circumscribe the parameters of that statement. I take it as legacy, you all take it as what you want. But who’s opinion really matters? Ralph Wiley’s opinion. He is not here in the physical form, so if there is a debate, let it continue. I know he would be on my side.

In a sense, there is a division in the legacy. There is a legacy of Ralph Wiley’s work, and there is the legacy of Ralph Wiley. The former is open to all. Please take it and promote truth. The latter is a little different, a strange fruit. Do you think that Scoop, or Spike, or anyone else but a handful of people can truly speak to Ralph Wiley’s legacy as a father? Likely not. But you can’t say that isn’t a part of his legacy. What about the legacy of RW’s relationship with his mother? That is a part of his legacy too. A little more personal; a little more intimate. Sure, there is no way that I can be the father or the son that RW was, but I can uphold the ideal. I can try my best.

My father has a legacy that is still here in its own right. At this point, it far outshines whatever I have built. I have a room full of scripts, stage plays, essays, and other writings that have not yet been exposed to the world. With that said, number of my father’s expressions have also been published and promoted. Legacy says that I am here to further the brilliant notions that my father compiled during his life so that I can honor him in death. Legacy says that I am going to develop my own expressions to tell my own story. RW has his legacy, no doubt. CW is slowly, but surely building his. We’ll say that it’s a separation of powers. But it cannot be argued that RW’s legacy does not continue to influence and guide mine.

Now, I am 99% sure that Scoop had good intentions in mentioning my father’s legacy. My father was a writer and an artist. The ideas that he presented were likely not entirely new, but the expression that he used embody those ideas were unique. An artist produces to be read and to inspire others. I am glad Scoop thinks enough of my father’s work to be inspired and influenced by him. I love what Scoop is doing. Believe that. At the same time, the world is not out here to love and revere everything that Scoop or any other artist does. Not everybody loved what my father did. With that premise in mind, I responded to Scoop’s statement because I think of carrying my father’s legacy as a uniquely personal concept. On a professional level, I want Scoop and others to look at my father’s legacy and run with it. Make it something greater than it already was. It is made greater by forming the building blocks of the monuments that others produce.

On a personal level, the duty cannot be relinquished.

Whether you believe that a legacy is complete at death or not, I still see myself as having the biggest burden in upholding the house that RW built. His work was left to me. HIP, Inc. was left to me. Those tangible items are a part of his legacy. If anything, it is those tangible items that are not real. They can be destroyed easier than they were created. Nonetheless, the love, motivation, and passion that created those items will always be here. Those personal elements…they can never be destroyed. I take that love he had and produce. Love is what my father gave me. His love for me, my love for him, and the love that we have for the art is what comprises the legacy. Tell me that his legacy is complete, and I will tell you that I KNOW he thinks you are wrong. As long as I am here, living and breathing, you always will be.

>CW<

Hey Scoop...Dig This...

2006-03-06T09:55:00.000-05:00

Alright, here is how this one goes. Scoop Jackson recently wrote a piece summarizing his first year at ESPN.com's Page 2. That article can be read here: http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=jackson/060228. I was alerted that Scoop gave me a "shout-out" at the end of the column, which reads as follows: “…that although his son Cole is carrying the weight and the torch, I am carrying Ralph Wiley’s legacy with every word I write. And I just hope I’m doing him justice.”

After a few reflections on the "shout-out" I sent an email out to a group of brothas that had highlighted the quotation on our sports e-mail forum. That email is copied below...

Ok, I am a little late on this one, but I was in Brazil for the last week so I couldn’t respond to this until now…

At first glance, I found Scoop’s shout out to be quite harmless…even flattering. After a second glance, I am not so sure…

Scoop says:
“…that although his son Cole is carrying the weight and the torch, I am carrying Ralph Wiley’s legacy with every word I write. And I just hope I’m doing him justice.”

Hmmmm…Damn Scoop…Go ahead with your bad self.

Damn Scoop. Why do you get the legacy while I only get the “weight and the torch”? Ain’t that a mothafuckin’ bitch.

Well, it has occurred to me…How can Scoop be so sure that he is carrying my father’s legacy when I can’t even fathom exactly all that my father’s legacy may or may not be comprised of? I knew my father better than 99.9% of the people that he has encountered in his lifetime, but somehow Scoop is sure that he is carrying my father’s legacy with every word that he writes. Interesting. Or maybe the remark is just dangerously obtuse. I don’t know Scoop. Scoop doesn’t know me. But apparently we have divided roles in upholding Ralph Wiley’s posthumous presence. I must have missed the meeting in the corporate war room. The Board of Directors failed to notify me.

Does Scoop really think that he is “carrying” Ralph Wiley’s legacy because he is the preeminent ‘black’ voice on ESPN’s Page 2?

I certainly hope not. Whatever my father’s legacy may be, I seriously doubt that he would identify it with his work on Page 2. It may have had some small part in it, but it was certainly not enough to carry the load. Page 2 certainly opened up his readership to a certain degree, but more than that Page 2 was a good way to pay the bills. Would RW champion Page 2 or Why Black People Tend to Shout? Page 2 or Dark Witness? Page 2 or collaborations with Spike Lee? Page 2 or hundreds of unpublished works that Scoop has never laid eyes on?

Scoop doesn’t have any part of running HIP, Inc. I would like to see if he even knows what HIP, Inc. is. Heygood Images Productions, Incorporated, Homie. Scoop won’t be taking that entity to the next level during his lifetime, I will. Scoop can come to me when he wants a piece. Since he is “carrying” my father’s legacy, I guess he should get his share. I will have to talk to the President and the CEO about that issue. It shouldn’t be a problem because I talk to myself all the time.

Scoop didn’t have Ralph Wiley tell him repeatedly that he would have to “carry” on the legacy of the Wiley name. I have the Wiley name, I earned it at birth. Scoop doesn’t have that blessing, he is a Jackson. I know too many Jacksons. They are a dime a dozen. Michael Jackson. Tito Jackson. Scoop even shares his name with Phil Jackson, the same coach that he has fired up in at least one of his columns. Jacksons are as common as sports writers. Wiley’s are a breed apart.

No disrespect to Scoop. I enjoy much of his work. I give him mad props for the aforementioned piece on Phil Jackson a.k.a. Sacred Ignorance. Keep doin’ ya thang Scoop. I’m proud of you. But you carry the Jackson legacy. I’m glad that my father may have had a significant influence on your career. If you choose to work in his honor, I applaud that. I’m sure he does as well. Contribute to his legacy by doing good and doing well. Contribute to his legacy by maintaining a certain integrity in your work. But, there ain’t no one else around to “carry” his legacy but me, or maybe my 6 year-old sister. Understand that. You may disagree with that, but respect the deference in the family name. The Wiley tag. It may not mean much to some folks, but it is a brand like no other in this house. You can have your Rolls Royce, your Mercedes-Benz, your McDonald’s, and your Jacksons. Wiley is in my veins and in my swagger. It is I and I am it. Even in death we will not part.

Finally, an inquiry for Scoop or anyone else who may read this: How would you feel if someone else told you that they were there to “carry” your father’s legacy, despite your own endeavors in that regard?

It might make you feel like whatever you may be doing with your life, it just isn’t quite enough. That may be true, but Scoop shouldn’t be the one pointing that out.

If anything, my father believed that I was a step ahead of where he was at the same point in his life.

At 23 years old, my father had graduated a year late from Knoxville College and moved to Chicago to work a manual labor job before moving out to Cali to work as a copyboy for the Oakland Tribune. No shame in that, especially when we consider what he did from there.

At 23 years old, I had already graduated as Salutatorian of Hampton University’s Class of 2004, clerked for Johnnie Cochran, enrolled at Harvard Law School, worked at a major corporate law firm, had my work used as course material for a Feature Article Writing class at FAMU, and will soon be making a transition to a top film school upon graduation from Haaaaaaavad.

With that said, I’m humble enough to know that my career may never be as illustrious or productive as my father’s. Then again, I may be able to pull off a miracle. I know what my father would be pulling for…and it happens on 34th Street. So let the legacy bear squarely on my shoulders. I have no idea what may become of the legacy with the weight on my back and the torch in my hand, but at least I am bold enough to admit that…instead of being pompous enough to proclaim otherwise.

>CW<

Classical Savion

2006-01-28T19:47:00.000-05:00

Went to see Savion Glover a couple months ago at the Symphony Hall in Boston. Meant to blog about his talents that same week…I guess we all know how the blog game goes, so I haven’t gotten around to it until now.

First of all, dude is an ARTIST…with a capital ART. If there is anyway that I can get into my craft in the same way that he gets into his, I have no doubt that my work will be well-respected. He puts so much passion, energy, and love into his performance…simply amazing.

There was a ferociousness to his steps that almost made me think that every step he took was a painful one; that every move was guided by something that few of us have ever felt. I don’t know where dude reaches down to guide his steps, but I aspire to find that place…and don’t call me an artist until I do…

>CW<

CW presents: Success From Passion – Passion of the Erudite

2006-01-07T17:55:00.000-05:00

Sorry y'all. This one got abducted to http://www.hofmag.com. My first column entry with the site. It feels so strange calling it a column, but I guess that's what it is since they list me as a "columnist" on the website. I didn't realize I was that special. Haha.

>CW<

Rooney What, Rooney Who?

2006-01-03T11:07:00.000-05:00

Although this piece is definitely premised in the world of sport, there is a theme here that is applicable to many aspects of life where race is relevant. If you read it, you will see what I mean...

I tried to get this up on ESPN.com y'all, but they didn't bite.

>CW<

***PLEASE KEEP IN MIND - THIS WAS WRITTEN AT THE BEGINNING OF DECEMBER***

Rooney what, Rooney who?
Rooney what, Rooney who?
Paul “Tay-Z” Tagliabue, aka Tigga, aka Tay Hov, taking his weekly rap lessons from Jay-Z

Let’s talk about the state of the NFL. Several general themes have surfaced this year which have predictably been discussed by virtually every sports commentator, sports columnist, sports bar patron, and anyone else who even pretends to like the sport of football. You should be familiar with every topic, and they are as follows:

The Colts are dominating. T.O. is a drama queen. T.O. is still the best wide receiver in the NFL (we must not forget his Super Bowl XXXIX performance). Shawn Alexander is finally getting some credit for the Hall of Fame numbers he has put up over his entire career. The Colts are dominating. LT is still a baaaad dude. If Priest Holmes comes back on the field, his job is probably gone anyway. McNabb is not black enough for the NAACP, but it doesn’t matter because he has the money and clout to start his own civil rights organization. Seattle looks good, but they will still find a way to lose in the Division Playoffs. The NFC is wiiiiiiide open. The Colts are dominating.

Yadda yadda yadda.

The usual water cooler banter persists. Not too much different than any other day, any other week, or any other NFL season. So, in light of those facts, its time for someone to take the NFL conversation down the primrose path.

Now let’s start a real conversation…

In 2002, the late, great Johnnie L. Cochran, and fellow attorney Cyrus Mehri gave the NFL a study entitled: “Black Coaches in the National Football League: Superior Performances, Inferior Opportunities.” This report highlighted the fact that by that point in tine, there had only been six African-Americans who had been hired as head coaches of an NFL team. That document used several examples of statistical analysis to point out various unsavory notions about the hiring of black coaches in the NFL. At that time, 70% of the players in the NFL were black, while there were only two black coaches, Tony Dungy and Herm Edwards. To put it simply, black coaches are the last to get hired and the first to get fired, regardless of whether or not they outperform many of their white competitors. Many of us already knew that these problems existed, they are obvious to those with common sense, but they had seemingly been pushed to the side until the threat of a lawsuit was brought to the faces of NFL owners.

The NFL and the various franchise owners reacted swiftly with a new policy known as the Rooney Rule. The rule’s proclamation was as follows: “Thou shalt not attempt to fill a vacant head coaching position without interviewing at least one minority candidate, lest ye desire to encounter a fine.”

It was a moderate victory for all minority candidates who have the qualifications and the cunning to be a successful NFL head coach. Whether or not the Rooney Rule is the reason, there are now six black head coaches in the NFL. Tony Dungy, Dennis Green, Lovie Smith, Romeo Crennel, Herman Edwards, and Marvin Lewis are all wreaking havoc with the tools they have been given. They are in various cities throughout the United States, ready to play every week. The six black men that are presently head coaches in the NFL now equal the number of black coaches that had been hired in the history of the league at the time when the Rooney Rule was first laid down in late 2002. Progress is definitely being made.

Rooney what, Rooney who?
Rooney what, Rooney who?

The present status of the black coach in the NFL is strikingly similar to the struggle of the black QB in the NFL. Within the last three years, the world has come to grips with the fact that black quarterbacks are here to stay. Michael Vick, Donovan McNabb, Steve McNair, Dante Culpepper, Aaron Brooks, and Byron Leftwich are all immensely talented quarterbacks that have many productive and winning years ahead of them. Several of them have put together productive and winning years in the seasons that are shadowing behind them. One of them has an NFL MVP. It’s obvious that these guys are good. The black QB’s competition is no longer the coaches and owners that have moved them out of position and subjugated their abilities; it is the legitimate NFL competition that they face week in and week out. No different than Trent Green, no different than Peyton Manning, no different than Tom Brady.

But this is all old news.

If people haven’t realized that black quarterbacks and black coaches are here for the duration, then it really doesn’t matter because the progress of the league is not going to wait for them. As a matter of fact, when the situation is closely examined, the remarkable progress might just scare a lot of people.

Wake up! Three of the top candidates for NFL Coach of the Year are black. Tony Dungy, Lovie Smith, and Marvin Lewis should be on anyone’s short list of coaches that are deserving of the honor. As a matter of fact, those three coaches may be the three TOP candidates for the award. Two black coaches have won the award in the past (Art Shell in 1990 and Dennis Green in 1992), but there has never been a point where three black coaches were legitimately competing for the award. Honestly, Green and Shell won their awards in an era where the competition was a little watered down. In their time, Coach of the Year honors were broken down by conference. Now these top candidates have to compete with everyone in the league. Dungy has to compete with John Fox, Marvin Lewis has to compete with Bill Belichick. Their world has not gotten any easier, yet they still thrive.

An inquiry for all: What is the single, most glorious moment for any black figure (a player or a coach) in the NFL over the last 25 years?

Without question, it was Doug Williams’ dominating performance and MVP honors in Super Bowl XXII. Some may argue with that statement, but do any of the awards, honors, career marks, or anything else really matter unless you are talking about the BIG game? Doug Williams showed that a black QB can not only play in the NFL, but he can win in convincing fashion; even on the world’s biggest stage. Four touchdown passes in one quarter of the Super Bowl? It will likely never be done again.

With that said, is it possible that the current state of affairs could dwarf such a magnificent achievement?

A solid argument could be made that a black head coach winning NFL Coach of the Year honors would be a bigger step. Not AFC Coach of the Year, not NFC Coach of the Year, but NFL, a.k.a. All-World, a.k.a. this is MY league Coach of the Year.

But that might not be enough.

Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of law school exams, I still have the sense to recognize that we may be witnessing something really monumental.

Let’s get serious. We have already established that none of these awards matter unless you are playing in the big show. Unless you are playing for the right to wear the ring that very few gladiators have had the chance to play for, you will always be unsatisfied. It might be fun to win your division. It might be cool to win a league MVP. It might be impressive to win a Heisman Trophy. Whatever accolade it may be, it just isn’t the same as earning the finest piece of jewelry that man has ever created. Just ask Rich Gannon. Better yet, ask Gino Torretta.

With all of the coach of the year hype that can be built, Marvin Lewis, Tony Dungy, and Lovie Smith are not leading their teams to become Coach of the Year. They are leading their teams into war every week to win it all. Period.

Hold on, wait a minute.

Tony Dungy = Undefeated Colts.

Marvin Lewis = division dominating Bengals.

Lovie Smith = Defensive juggernaut Bears.

It appears that ALL of these teams have a legitimate shot of going to the promised land. The Colts and Bengals are front runners to go to the AFC Championship game, and the Bears have the benefit of playing in the “pick a card, any card” NFC.

Rooney what, Rooney who?
Rooney what, Rooney who?

Two black coaches in the AFC Championship game is noteworthy. A black coach in the Super Bowl is monumental. Two black coaches in the Super Bowl is Armageddon.

I think I’ll take monumental. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt around here.

But there is still a deeper issue here. While the success of these coaches is wonderful, it might mean the extermination of the Rooney Rule. How could the success of the black coach spell the end for the league’s new diversity policy? Well, intelligent owners should realize that the rule may soon be obsolete. Honestly, the Rooney Rule is already dead, even thought it hasn’t ‘officially’ been discarded. Teams should seek out black coaches in their own self-interest, not because there is a fear of a fine and some moderate public scrutiny. At the same time, we cannot ask NFL owners to be colorblind because it is virtually impossible to be that way. We ALL make assumptions and generalizations about different races whether we do it consciously or subconsciously. But Dungy, Lovie, and Lewis did not get hired because of the Rooney Rule; they were hired because they are GOOD.

Rooney what, Rooney who?
Rooney what, Rooney who?

Have we reached a point where there is no need for the Rooney Rule? I really don’t know. If they want to win, it would be advisable for teams to recognize the talents and abilities of black coaches, but sometimes there is no point in beating a dead horse. There still may be some organizations that would prefer to not hire or interview black coaches without the Rooney Rule in place. I would like to believe that is not the case, but 85 years of NFL history tells me otherwise. By 1988, there had only been ONE black head coach in the history of the NFL. By 2002, there had only been six black head coaches in the history of the NFL. Today, only nine black men have ever coached in the NFL, although a few of them have coached more than one team.

Regardless, this is a remarkable point in the history of the NFL. But there is still a lot of work two be done.

Wait…a black Coach of the Year and the possibility of TWO black coaches in the Super Bowl is not enough?

No, its not.

It must be conceded that it is truly extraordinary to be able to change the water cooler banter from “Tom Brady did this….” and “Shaun Alexander did that…” to a conversation about black coaches competing for some of the sport’s most coveted achievements, but the work is still unfinished. Next time, I would hope that people are talking about black owners (and no, minority ownership a.k.a. insignificant piece ownership doesn’t count) competing against each other as favorites to win the Super Bowl. That would be Armageddon, or a day to rejoice, whatever your perspective may be. That would be the day that Jay-Z and Paul Tagliabue would rap together, in unison:

Rooney what, Rooney who?
Rooney what, Rooney who?

>CW<

An Apology To All

2005-12-12T14:58:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to take a quick minute to apologize to all those who have recently come to the blog and noticed that I have not had a chance to make any updates. Hopefully, I will begin posting again within the next week or so. A brotha is simply short on time and there are so many other things in my life that take precedence. As much as I talk crap about law school, we must remember that I AM IN LAW SCHOOL. Right now I am focused on my final exams and this term paper that I have to complete by 12/20. Please don't mistake my lack of activity as a dry spell, or an inability to come up with interesting material. Trust me, I have PLENTY of things that I want to touch upon. As a matter of fact, my pending topics have easily outpaced my availability and ability to address them in full. Thank you for all the inquires from those that care. Don't fret, the Street's Disciple will return soon.

In addition, I wanted to apologize for my last entry concerning my away messages. That was a clear example of not having enough time to keep the blog updated and throwing whatever I could up there. Although many people found the comments funny, that type of lackluster effort will not resurface on this blog again.

>CW<

Random AIM Away Messages

2005-11-08T17:56:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: ALL of the various sections of this blog are actual excerpts from my away messages on AOL Instant Messenger. Any attempt to copy or steal them will result in you being a loathsome, biting a$$ hater.

Here is some evidence that even a "deep," pseudo-intellectual brotha like me has a lighter side...

And Constitutional Law goes as follows...

doncoleone 2g: amish girls are extremely sexy

BordiaMo3: i literally just laughed out loud

doncoleone 2g: hopefully parker wasnt looking at you

doncoleone 2g: i seem to get people in trouble with that

BordiaMo3: he probably was. he's going to kick me out one day

doncoleone 2g: but forreal tho...have u ever seen an amish girl churn butter?

doncoleone 2g: i cant control myself

BordiaMo3: you're an idiot and i can't stop laughing

BordiaMo3: that must suck to have to churn your own butter

doncoleone 2g: yeah im not saying that i would wanna do it...but the aura that amish girls have about them when they 'whip' it up...i just wanna take that butter and spread it all over their body

doncoleone 2g: lol

BordiaMo3: wildly inappropriate

**********************************************

Now this one is not quite as lighthearted, but humorous nonetheless:

My thoughts about the stigma of being the 'token' black guy at Harvard who only got in becuz he is black (i.e. - affirmative action or race quotas):

"...its always better than having the stigma of going to ITT Tech Law School"

**********************************************

Finally, in more typical "angry black man" fashion, a strikingly disturbing excerpt from the dissent (the guys on "our" side in Plessy v. Ferguson:

my favorite quotable from constitutional law: (Plessy v. Ferguson)

'The white race deems itself to be the dominant race in this country. And so it is, in prestige, in achievements, in education, in wealth, and in power. So, I doubt not, it will continue to be for all time, if it remains true to its great heritage, and holds fast to the principles of constitutional liberty.'

Well I'll be damned...Doesn't that just touch your heart and fill you with patriotism upon reading it???

>CW<

Please Sir, Can You Take Off Your Black Hat?

2005-11-02T17:54:00.000-05:00

Just for the record, the young woman who is the unfortunate subject of this blog entry is a VERY nice and sincere person. I understand what she was TRYING to say with her comments, but she executed VERY POORLY. I have nothing against her, at all...except for the few comments below. (See the comments to this entry for more details).

Back to bidness...

Ok, here is how this one goes. A recent incident involving a black, undergraduate student at Harvard College has consequently stirred up some controversy amongst a few of the black students in the law school. I won’t get into too many details about the incident, but the student was forcibly removed from the dorm where he resided for failing to identify himself. He was charged with trespassing and told to stay away from campus until further notice. Now it sounds real bad at this point, but this young brotha apparently has some kind of mental instabilities as well, which makes the situation a bit trickier.

At any rate, I explicitly brought this incident to the attention of BLSA (Black Law Students Association) with the hope that we would find out exactly what happened that evening. One of the members of BLSA, who was especially close to the incident tried to assure us that the unfortunate events were not race-related. In her e-mail explanation, she used the following words:

“Please take off your "black person" hat for a moment, re-read the article (referring to the student newspaper article which publicized the incident), and think for a minute. Read between the lines, but don't look for the race card.”

Now, as you might imagine, I had some REAL problems with this statement. But, for those out there who might not have seen what was so wrong with the statement, I decided to make my observations known to the members of BLSA. Fortunately, my comments were quite brief on this subject:

“Whoa. I'm cool with re-reading the article and all, but I think it might be sufficiently difficult for me to take my "black person hat" off. Even if I tried, it seems as though it won't budge. Then again, that's not my fault. This society has ensured that I am in a constant realization of the fact that my "black hat" is always three steps in front of me.”

I really feel that I was being excessively nice with that response because I didn’t even get on the fact that her statement almost made it seem as though we aren’t able to “think” with sufficient clarity when he have our “black hat” on. Apparently, I must think like someone else to analyze the situation in the appropriate context…

As you might imagine, I didn’t even want to start that fire…

>CW<

What It Means To Be A Champion

2005-10-29T14:59:00.000-04:00

Disclaimer: This may appear to be a sports article at first glance, but trust me, it ends up a long distance away from its ambiguous introduction.

What does it mean to be a champion? There is no doubt that Michael Jordan is considered to be a champion. The beloved Tom Brady, can’t really argue that he isn’t a champion, even though I really want a figure out a way to do it. Muhammad Ali, a definite champion, nuff said. Serena Williams, without question, a champion. Tiger Woods, pre and post “slump,” a ridiculously dominant champion.

But wait, I must slow down for a minute. I got so excited that my breathing patterns changed, the blood rushed to my brain and I have neglected a whole other sect of champions that might not be so quick to receive glorious recognition. Mike Tyson, whatever the hell you have to say about him, is a champion; or at least he was at one time. As a matter of fact, that one time was easily the most impressive and unquestionably dominant period of heavyweight reign that I have ever seen. That statement, in itself, may not mean so much since I have only been on this earth long enough to learn how to wipe my ass for hygiene sake, and more recently kiss the asses of others for employment sake. But, if we put life in that perspective, I might not seem to be so inexperienced when standing next to those who have achieved little else in their more extensive stays on this earth.

Bill Romanowksi, a real fucking dickhead, but a champion nonetheless. If you want to question me on that point, I want to quickly learn (sic) you something; the dude has FOUR Superbowl rings.

We would all like to forget the fact that we have seen Dennis Rodman, another potential subject of controversy, in a wedding dress, but you can’t forget that he is a champion, several times over.

So we come back to the same question, what is a champion?

If it means that I am a cross-dressing, ear-munching, hog-spitting in your face, sucker-punching my teammate, sad excuse for a grown ass man, then I would most certainly implore that I am far from anything resembling a champion. At the same time, I might wish to be a touchdown throwing, Grand Slam winning, major championship dominating, basketball revolutionizing, Super Bowl MVP, but my lackluster athletic talents have not enabled me to fit any of those descriptions either. So then, how can I ever possibly conceive of becoming a champion in my own right? How can I strive to be a champion if I am not certain about what makes the heart of a champion?

Now it may be conceptually difficult to define the nature of a champion, but I’m confident that I know of one consistent characteristic that is a definite prerequisite to bona-fide certification as a champion; they all work their asses off. When I was a Senior at Hampton University, if I looked back at the ‘achievements’ and ‘accomplishments’ that I had attained over the 22 paltry years that I had seen by that point, I wouldn’t have said that my work ethic had been so extraordinary that I could call myself a champion in that respect either.

Funny how things change, and yet, they change some more.

It was during that same year, soon after I was admitted to damn near every legitimate law school in the country that my naiveté began to falter. My father began to explain to me how I would soon realize and observe a certain shift in the manner in which others perceive and regard my life, especially my professional pursuits. Quite simply, he told me that “You are going to be their champion, the people’s champion.” Quite naturally, I demanded that he identify these particular “people” because they are surely part of a misguided crowd.

The first inclusion into this burgeoning cult was my family. It wasn’t that difficult for me to grasp this concept. To my knowledge, I don’t have any family members that have gone to law school, let alone crash their way into Haaaaaaavad Law. My family has gone from being relatively poor, hard-working descendents of slaves, to substantially middle-class, hard-working descendents of slaves. Might not sound that prestigious, but it has got to mean something to go from a family of 12 living in a shotgun house/outhouse combo, to a family that has many extensions, located in a variety of metropolitan centers of the United States. The idea is simple, my ancestors have struggled and fought for the opportunity for me to go to Harvard Law School, and I would be a fool to not expect those in my family to look to me as their champion. The family is full of pride, so there is no reason for them to not be proud of my progressions through the academic enigma that is Harvard Law School.

The second group brought into this foolish faction was the membership of my church. This one was relatively simple as well. I grew up in the church; they have seen me grow from a quiet little boy to a deceptively assiduous young man. But I expect that they would be proud of me if I had gone to the local community college and got a decent job at a government agency. People who truly have God (Allah, Jehovah, etc.) in their hearts and minds do not need much to be proud of the young ones they see develop into productive members of society.

The third group, consisting of my past, present and future classmates, my past, present and future work associates, and other friends/associates of relatively substantial contact, presented a much more confusing puzzle. There was no way that I would believe that the same classmates who would ridicule those at the top of the class for striving to do well in school, that mocked others for refusing to accept mediocrity in their academic pursuits, would actually look at me with approval, much less see me as a champion.

That presumption quickly changed.

I began to walk around campus and have familiar faces, but unfamiliar personalities approach me with shockingly candid admiration. On graduation day, when it was revealed that I had finished second in my class, the announcement was met not only with the ooohs and aaahs of those parents and relatives in the audience, but a standing ovation, cheers, and various nigga celebrations by the rest of my classmates in the relatively large Political Science/History department. It was almost strange to see all this, especially when the one young lady with a 4.06 GPA who had finished above me only received lukewarm applause and a general question of ‘Who the fuck is that girl?’ which floated through the crowd.

Once the Harvard Law and Salutatorian news broke, people constantly asked me how I pulled this scam off. I was at all the standard parties that everyone else would go to, like many of my boys I had a moderately alarming addiction to Madden 2004, and I would often find any excuse to fart away large blocks of time in the noble undergraduate pursuit of avoiding potentially productive study time. Why the hell were my grades that much higher than everyone else’s? I thought the answer was simple; I deceptively put a lot of effort into my coursework, so I deceptively reaped the benefits. Its funny, I would now make appearances at the same standard undergrad parties which I previously mentioned and get ‘special’ dances with the ladies simply because I was now a Haaaaavad man.

These types of incidents have continued over the course of the last year and a half, so I have had no choice but to become more and more accustomed to their occurrence. I have been told that I am an ‘inspiration’ to others in a variety of ways. People actually seek out my advice in applying to law school or applying to graduate school generally. Now that I have decided to pursue a career in film, people now tell me that they are envious of the fact that I have seemingly found the passion, motivation and focus to pursue a driven and productive career. I tell them that I might be working for Spike Lee next fall, and they get more excited about it than I am. But that notion might be another window into the mind of a champion; they are never satisfied with the status quo, even if they are at the top. Trust me, I am definitely aware of the fact that I am a LONG way from the top, but there are so many people out there who swear that I have ‘made it’ or that I am ‘set for life.’ Maybe I would feel that way if I wasn’t the only asshole at Harvard Law who has no intentions of practicing law, but instead makes the ingenious decision to follow up his six figure law loans with the aspiration of making low-budget independent films. Irrespective of whatever achievements or benchmarks I have achieved in my short life, there are so many goals that I have not yet reached. I know that there is so much more that I have to do, and I doubt that I will ever be satisfied in that regard.

So maybe I am a champion. Some people seem to think so. Maybe someday, I will see myself as one too. All I know is that I have a lot more work to put in. I might have a few milestones and accolades already lined up, but that isn’t enough to satisfy the mind of a maniacally driven man, or the heart of a champion.

>CW<

Comments from the Peanut Gallery

2005-10-28T04:40:00.000-04:00

I have come across some statements and/or questions from certain unmentioned individuals on a couple touchy subjects in the last few days, so I thought that I would share my response to these sophomoric comments with everyone.

Case #1

For those that don't know, I pledged a particular fraternity in undergrad, and for several reasons the shyt didn't work out. Its easy to say that I'm not bitter, but I wouldn't be telling the truth if I said that I wasn't. Although, even if I crossed without any major hitches, I would still call out all the Greek organizations on the hypocritical standards they are based upon:

For example, my former line brother to be has chosen to pledge with a grad chapter of the frat and my former ADP (assistant dean of pledges) shared the following message with me:

Rob finished in 03, Will is gonna finish up this year, ___ is having its first official line this year and you are the only one left. You know you gotta finish what you started maybe not now but someday, its only right. I know that your a _____(frat identification omitted) man by how you handle your business. I always busted your ass online but that's because I had to play that role. I got a lot of respect for you. I'm sorry things didn't work out for you, but you still gotta finish what you started. When you get online let me know so I can come see you, no matter if its next year or five years from now.

Here is MY RESPONSE to that brief message:

well its good to hear thatWill is doing his thing. i always knew that it was very important to him, so I'm glad that he is finally getting what he wanted. its true that i am not one to start something, and then not finish...but u won't ever see me going down that road again. at this point, i am a grown ass man. at the time that i was pledging, i was very unsure of myself and had an utterly sophomoric mentality. because i now observe the world with much more clarity, i realize that grown ass men don't subject themselves to that type of process. i wont ever cross paper, and i no longer have the ability to "humble" (i.e. - demean, lower, etc.) myself to go through a "process." I would kill a mothafucka at this point. Even if i already was a ____, or were to become one, my association with the frat would always be strained. Sure that frat has lofty ideals, but i equate it with using the bible to justify the crusades and the slave trade. I fuck with some of y'all on an individual basis, but that's it. I appreciate the fact that you and others from BX want to see me do it, but I don't need anyone's letters to complete me. I already have on the armor of a higher order, and that is all i need. >CW<

Case #2

Here is a message that I got from a random Harvard undergrad student in reference to a particular portion of my Facebook.com page. For those of your who are unfamiliar with the facebook, on any given facebook page, there is a certain section that asks for the users favorite quote(s). In that section I put my own, original quotable. It reads as follows:

"I don't quote mofos cuz the shyt is unoriginal...C-Dub (that's me)"

For some reason, this Harvard female felt it necessary to challenge me on this statement in a particular manner. her challenge read as follows:

"i believe it was ralph waldo emerson who said "Don't recite other people's opinions. I hate quotations. Tell me what you know." it could be argued that your quotation is in fact a quotation. just putting those law school skills to the test--"

Of course, I had to put all of my efforts into roasting this uppity chick (I really don't think she is uppity, I just needed any excuse to pick a fight), and my response is pasted below:

"First of all, it is a little scary that you would go through my entire page and pick out the one thing that you could find a way to chastise, and then to use a quotation to do so, that is just hilarious. You did the one thing that I was speaking against, but then again, how else could you challenge my proclamation against biting others? ;) Now as to your argument that my quotation is a quotation, I would have to disagree. First of all, at this point in human evolution, the presentation of original thought most often does not come in the form of a truly original idea, but in original expression and expansion upon a particular idea. One could use the common phrases that there is "nothing new under the sun" or that "no idea is original." I am not saying that it is wholly impossible to come up with a completely original idea, but it is much more likely that someone else has developed a similar idea in the past. Although I have a tremendous amount of respect for Mr. Emerson, I am quite sure that he was not the first person to premise the importance and value of original thought. His expression of this ideal might have been unique, but the general theme was in all probability, not.

Now I do not wish to imply that one should not take in and appreciate the ideas and in particular, the expression of those ideas of those influential individuals that have preceded you. One should definitely read the works of the great thinkers, but the most important thing to do with that knowledge is to avoid simple regurgitation. The key is to take those thoughts and transform them into your own original expressions that incorporate your own life experiences. I agree with Will (Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting) that all these people walking around with their fancy shmancy Harvard paraphernalia and their Harvard degrees are quite unimpressive when they only have the capacity to recite the expressions of others, especially when they could have obtained that same knowledge for $20 in late charges from the public library. If one does not use this type of environment, or even use their own time to create original expression from the vast realm of ideas that flow throughout, then you are truly underachieving. With that said, you can choose to view my phrase as an original expression of a broader idea, or not.

Now, many people believe that profanity has little literary or expressive value. These same people often believe that the use of expletives can be avoided by using other less vulgar terms that they believe to be more descriptive and much more concise. I happen to believe that language should not only have a precise and objective meaning, but certain words, expletives in particular, have the capacity to convey emotions that would be inexpressible with less raucous terms. You can determine how my use of profanity attempts to conjure up certain expressive emotions that are related to the point which I am trying to make. And if you should so happen to find someone else that has used the phrase "I don't quote motherfuckers because the shit is unoriginal," then please let me know. Until then, I would like to think that my word choice is an original expression of an idea that has and will continue to be around for centuries. Beyond that, your original message was a truly original experience on the facebook. Never have I had someone try to challenge me about the contents of my page. It was truly a Haaaaaaavad thing to do. >CW< "

Why did I choose to post these ramblings on my blog? Because I can mothaf*cka. :) They may not mean much to you, but I thought they were sufficiently entertaining. >CW<

A Kurious Story About Hurricane Katrina

2005-10-18T02:16:00.000-04:00

This is a copy of an email that I sent to my fellow brothas and sistas in the Harvard Law School Black Law Students Association. Its just a prime example of how life is so much more than mere circumstance...

Dear BLSA,

I came home late this evening and got a phone call from my good friend at NYU Law School, David Green. he called to tell me that his family had been featured on CNN earlier today because of their experiences in Hurricane Katrina. David's family has apparently been rooted in New Orleans for quite some time, and of course, they resided in the 9th Ward. David then told me to go to CNN.com because their family story is featured on the front page of the website. As I was checking the website out, David told me that he heard that Spike Lee is planning on doing a documentary on the Hurricane Katrina abomination, and that he was trying to find a way to get in touch with him. I had actually head that Spike was trying to get a Katrina doc done as well, and its obvious that the Green family has a story to tell. As some of you may or may not know, I have a relatively established relationship with Spike Lee, and I will likely be working with him next Fall, so I as in a fortunate position of being able to send Spike a text about the Green family story. The thing that is crazy is that David didn't even know that I had such a relationship with Spike!

Unfortunately, David lost his 73 year old grandmother as his family was going from rooftop to rooftop trying to escape the flood waters. his 3 year old cousin was lost in the surging waters as well. David had been working for a firm in New Orleans the entire summer before leaving to come back to NYU days before Katrina hit.

I have honestly been quite disappointed in myself at times because I have felt like i have not done enough to help aid the victims of Hurricane Katrina, but this blessing happened to fall in my lap and I hope that it will turn into a fruitful effort. If the Green family story can help disseminate the underlying hypocrisy which has surfaced in the Katrina aftermath to those who are unfamiliar about the insincerity and dishonesty that permeates throughout American politics, I am just glad that I could play a small role. I presently await Spike's response and I will update you all on any progress.

Some of you may not be too interested in all of this, but I am just amazed at how the Creator (be it God, Allah, etc.) works in mysterious ways.

>CW<
Cole Wiley

Don't Speak About It, Be About It

2005-10-16T05:26:00.000-04:00

Its always good to see a group of dynamically diverse brothas come together and flush out their thoughts and interests about the motivations, social mores, and misapprehensions that drive them to live and achieve. Tonight I had a group of 15-20 brothas, from Harvard Law School (which in itself, doesn't even sound right coming out of my mouth....who knew there were so many niggas at the most prestigious law school in the country???) talking about the black man's role in American society. The most refreshing element of the dialogue was that we were NOT all of one mind and did NOT see most issues with identical rationalizations. One thing that is frustrating, is that so many black folks like to think that there is ONE thing that can alleviate the problems within the black community. Be it education, be it elimination of self-hate, be it eradication of apathetic attitudes, etc. We need to realize that there is not ONE thing that can solve the problems within the community. The problems our people face are so deeply rooted and multi-faceted, that an incomprehensible arsenal of rehabilitative tactics will need to be used to make any substantial progress. The most important thing is that we do not continue to only TALK about how we are going to affect and improve the community, we must take the proper ACTIONS to do so as well. That's enough preachin' for 2:24 in the a.m. >CW<

The Key to Success - Living Like a Recluse???

2005-10-05T23:54:00.000-04:00

I have come to realize that I spend a great deal of my free time going to bars, clubs, lounges, and other typical scenes of social interaction with my friends. If I were to dedicate a comparable amount of time to reading books, writing, and finding a better sense of self, I am sure that I would be in a much better position to attain all of the professional and intellectual goals that I have for myself. These goals include, but are certainly not limited to the following: writing a number of screenplays that are put into legitimate production (either independent or major studio distribution would be fine with me), graduating from law shool, passing the California bar, directing several films (including 'the project'; details forthcoming), being the first African-American to win a Best Director Oscar, producing and distributing substantial black films, collaborating with a range of influential figures in a variety of ways, and having a healthy family.These goals may seem quite random and very broad, but that is the type of guy that I am. I see certain goals for myself, I can feel a certain level of success in my future, but I am not naive enough to map out the exact course that my life will take in reaching the desired result.Aside from my personal goals, I have started to believe that most of the truly exceptional and successful people which we admire have lived rather inroverted lives. These luminaries have, at least for some significant portion of their lives, dedicated themseves to the pursuit of optimal personal, intellectual, and creative growth with unwavering furvor. I have seen this with my own eyes. My father was an influential and admirable man in many different respects. By chance or by trade, he was a writer, but the characteristics of success are not relegated to one particular field. Rappers, actors, dancers, civil rights leaders, athletes, doctors, lawyers, entrepreneurs, mothers, fathers, teachers and kingpins all put in the work to excel. Why should I be left behind? It is time for me to be diligent. It is time for me to put the work in. There are people out in this world who fear a black man with my gifts and abilities. I have the tools, I just have to learn the craft. Lord knows what the future holds...

I always laughed at bloggers...

2005-10-04T23:53:00.000-04:00

Like I said, I always laughed at bloggers for doing this shyt...but I figure that this is the best way for me to get my thoughts down on 'paper'...more so for myself than anyone else. I guess this is better than writing in my journal once a month. Dam, I about to unleash some SHYT on this mofo...My inspiration for this website actually came from Bomani Jones, a up and coming freelance writer who is about to knock out a nice contract with ESPN.com. His site is http://www.bomanijones.com. Hopefully you won't take a look, cuz the shyt is much nicer than this piece of crap I have going. At this point, the content of his site is far superior to mine as well. But, dude is a seasoned writer when compared to someone of my limited experience. Sooner or later (probably later) I will be blowing him and everyone else out of the water. Its nothing personal, yet its not business either...it will be the product of my recent inspiration to lead a purpose driven life.So I hope you are ready to get this crackin' my friends...because this is the genesis of a young artist's career...