The Dangers of the Internet

I’d like to introduce you to a couple of friends of mine. Actually, I wouldn’t exactly call them friends and I don’t know them at all. But I can bet at this point, they can use a friend or two right about now (of course, these young ladies are probably pretty popular with a certain group of neanderthal knuckleheads by now). Anyway, these youngsters – with a chip on their shoulders roughly the size of the national debt – decided to make a name for themselves by invading the internets with a long and drawn out rant about black people. Check it:

Boy, oh boy. Where to start?

First, I should point out that the video above does not belong to the young ladies in question. Their original video has apparently been removed, but not before it was copied by several other YouTube users. So if you feel compelled to visit this video, remember you won’t be addressing them directly. Some people – like me – have posted this video for informational purposes.

Secondly, I freely admit something: I’m actually on board with at least a small part of their rant. Anybody who has frequented my blog, followed me on Twitter (if you haven’t yet, you need to! LOL!), or friended me Facebook would know that I am often very critical of black Americans and many of their socially destructive pathologies. People abuse systems of social welfare all the time. Many black people engage in certain embarrassing and socially awkward behaviors, often motivating my tongue-in-cheek “Reasons Why I Hate Being Black…” commentary. So one would be too hard pressed to say these girls weren’t at least partially correct.

Also, I freely admit that I, along with many middle class folks I know, grow quite frustrated with a system that does very little to benefit people who are doing their best to make ends meet. I can’t count the number of times I’ve winced at the final total of my grocery bill, only to watch the person ahead of me whip out their magical bridge card. I can’t count how many times the fact that I somehow “made too much money” locked me out of services that would be extremely beneficial to me (earning a Pell Grant, for instance). I think it’s for this same reason I understood exactly where Mitt Romney was coming from when he made his comments about poor people (as a side note, there are some fundamental issues with how he perceives poorness and “safety nets.” But that’s a conversation for another day).

For the sake of this argument though, it’s entirely unfair to juxtapose Romney’s comments about the poor and these girls’ commentary. The girls in the video don’t stop at issues of class status; instead they also dedicate a considerable amount of their rant to the way black people speak and their lack of intelligence.

Thing is: I have nothing to say about their comments. I think the video speaks for itself. These girls clearly have some type of repressed and racially motivated sentiments brewing deep down and this was their opportunity to vent. Added to that, their tirade – repugnant as it is – is still protected by free speech. So we’ll leave all of that where it is. But if there was ever a cautionary tale about the dangers of the Internet, this would be it. I can’t begin to imagine how damaging this video might be to these young girls down the road. Immediate consequences have already been felt, not only through expulsion from school, but also from the scores of threats they and their family have received. But from a long-term perspective these girls also face the very real possibility that they have damaged some of their college admissions opportunities, scholarships, internship prospects, or even job opportunities. As I’ve stated before, even when a person is protected by free speech, they are NOT protected from the consequences of their speech/actions.

To be sure, these girls are not a celebrities or some other public figures. So I don’t except them to get thrown into the spotlight over this (one can hope, for their well-being). But they – and indeed all of us – must take away an important lesson from all of this: the Internet should be seen as a permanent entity. The effects of what we broadcast to the world can have a longer lasting impact than the few minutes it took us to become fixtures on the Internet. Use caution when posting. Please.

One thing’s for certain. This experience will definitely served as a learning tool for other youngsters regarding the dangers of the internet. Oh, wait. Scratch that.

- ACL

Acknowledging Mistakes

“Everybody makes mistakes. That’s why they put erasers on pencils.”

- Lenny, from The Simpsons

Occasionally, I have a tendency to get a little disheartened when I think about all the mistakes I’ve made in my life. In some cases, I find myself so deeply immersed in those mistakes, I often feel that there’s no turning back. What’s worse is that frankly, I’m not always sure whether many people I know (with the obvious exceptions of my family and a handful of my closest friends) have the kind of love and support for me that will allow them to accept me in the face of the mistakes I’ve made. But I can at least rest on the belief that God is still standing beside me; even when I screw up, be it inadvertently or on purpose.

To date, I haven’t come across anyone who hasn’t messed up before. It stands to reason they will mess up again. We all will. It’s a part of what makes us human. But our humanity doesn’t mean we necessarily have to succumb to our shortcomings. Instead, I think we can become victors of those mishaps. As a starting off point, I think it’s important to embrace our humanity and face our shortcomings head on. It’s when we don’t confront those issues, admit them to ourselves, turn away from them, and learn from them, that we are led down a road of disappointment and indeed down the same path of destruction we so assiduously tried to avoid in the first place. As we watch our once close relationships with our friends and family, our lives, and any bit of humanity disintegrate into nothing, we find ourselves empty, lonely, and devoid of purpose. That can be a fate worst than death.

While I believe it’s easy to point the finger at others when they have done us wrong, I believe it’s much harder to point the finger at ourselves when it comes to identifying our own shortcomings. Hoping to be a better person in that respect, I’m striving to get to the point where I stop hiding behind my failures and my faults and come to grips with how messy I can be at times. I’ve fallen short more than I can count; I’ve missed the mark time in and time out. I’ve hurt people. I’ve lied to people. I’ve betrayed people. I’ve done a poor job of uplifting people. I’ve failed people. In that respect, I hide nothing.

All of that notwithstanding, I don’t want to spend all my days shamelessly holding my head down at the thought of being a bad Christian. Rather, I hold my head up knowing that even when I miss on all cylinders, God has my back. Even when the rest of world is ready to abandon me, thrust their fingers into my chest, or have my head on a platter, He’s standing with me giving me strength and boldness of faith to endure it.

Even when I can’t always see or feel it, I’m never alone.

-ACL

Vlog: Rapping at the CPAC

My take on a performance of a “founding fathers rap” at the 2012 Conservative Political Action Conference. I wouldn’t go as far as to call it racist, but I have no problem calling it ridiculously unfunny, and hardly a solid recruiting tool for potential black conservatives. Check it:

- ACL

Liberal Hypocrisy: The Curious Case of Mitt Romney

If you thought deceptive politics were the sole province of our friends on the right, think again. There has been an image circulating the net that appears to put Mitt Romney on blast for being out of touch:

Liberal group MoveOn.org immediately got their hands on this image and ran with it. It wasn’t long before it landed in my email box from one of my leftist friends. Mitt Romney getting his shoes shined by some lowly, exploited work while donning a huge, smug smile on his face. Meanwhile on the other side of the tracks, President Obama is connecting with a common blue collar worker. A telling story, right?

Not quite.

First off, the picture is real, but it actually depicts a much different reality. Romney is not getting his shoes shined. He’s actually being scanned by a TSA agent before boarding a charter jet. What’s worse is that even though the photo was revealed to be deceptive and not accurately portraying reality, liberals were still justifying their references to it. On their site for instance, MoveOn.org, despite acknowledging that the photo was not authentic, nevertheless stated “[w]e still feel it goes a long way in showing Mitt Romney’s special circumstances in comparison with the 99%.” It’s difficult to accept their acknowledgment of the truth – and I use the word “acknowledgement” loosely here – when libs have demonstrated such poor discernment. And THIS is why I have a hard connecting with them.

Let’s examine this from another angle: even if it was true that Romney was getting his shoes shined, does this REALLY prove anything about who he is? Is a shoe shine the barometer by which we measure people’s personalities? Wealth alone does not make a person sympathetic or unsympathetic to poor folks. On top of that, libs would’ve been on Romney if they found out he only paid $3 for the shoe shine or if he paid $300 for it. Yet, these are the same liberals who sat quietly while John “Two Americas” Edwards paid $1250 for a haircut or when Michelle Obama rocked $500 kicks at a soup kitchen. The hypocrisy smacks in the face. I’ve even heard people citing Romney’s use of a charter plane as an indicator of his out-of-touchness. I call B.S. on that. Many political candidates, President Obama included, use private planes during campaign trips. So there’s that.

What annoys me about liberals is how they hypocritically fail to express the same reaction to wealth to other liberals as they do toward conservatives. Let’s be real: there are many folks liberals hold with high esteem who are extremely wealthy. Nancy Pelosi, the Clintons, and Chris Dodd immediately come to mind, but there a quite literally thousands of them. Even the Obamas reported have assets totaling somewhere around the $10 million mark. If we were to compare Romney to great presidents of the past, many of them (after adjusting for inflation) were wealthier than Romney.

What liberals also seem to forget in the conversation about prosperity at the expense of the poor are the countless ways many of us – irrespective of our wealth – benefit from the work of poor laborers, laborers much poorer than the phantom shoe-shiner in the Romney picture. Maybe we all don’t have immigrant maids taking care our homes, lawns, and children. But most of us have stayed in a hotel once in a while, cleaned by people earning disreputably low wages. Servers and cooks at restaurants earn next to nothing for their work. Hell, if you’re reading this from your iPad or your iPhone, you’re using a device that was assembled in China by extremely poor workers (including children) who work grueling hours in the worst of conditions. If using the services of a phantom shoe-shiner is an indication of indifference toward lower-class workers, we are ALL guilty. Every single one of us.

This is by no means a pro-Romney post. It can still be said that he’s missed the boat on some things. But let’s make this less about constructing deceptive narrative and more about policy. If Mitt Romney or any other candidates express antipathy for the poor, call them out on it based on their record; not on some lie…and certainly not on something entirely unrelated to policy.

We saw the exact same thing unfold as then-Senator Obama was running for President but a few years ago. Instead of focusing on his policies, conservatives were going after him for everything from Jeremiah Wright to Bill Ayers to his love for arugula. Are liberals really going to mimic that behavior? If so, they really aren’t any better than the conservatives about whom they endlessly complain.

- ACL

Gifts That Keep On Giving

*Imitating Will Downing* “This one’s for fellas” (but I suppose you ladies can chime in, too. We need your candor):

Well brothers, we’ve survived another miserable Valentine’s Day. Congratulations! No more chocolates and flowers to hunt for. No more fighting in the aisles for the last greeting card. You’re officially in the clear.

However…

Even though Valentine’s Day in our rear view mirror, we still need to step up to plate in terms of how we display our affection to the fairer sex. Though I’m not suggesting that success in relationships is (or should be) based solely on what you give your lady, I will argue that some of the following everyday “gifts” can go a long way in pleasing your mate. So in continuing with my “those who can’t do, teach” theme on dating and relationships, here are a few of those “Million Ways” you can please your woman. Hear me now:

 

1. The gift of paying attention to taste and size: You’ve heard womenfolk say it before. And it’s true. To women, size does matter. In this case, I’m not referring to your ‘package’. I’m talking about the size of the clothing you give her as a gift. If there is one sure fire way to get your lady mad at you, buy her a piece of clothing that is either too big or too small. There are certain messages she will read in either scenario. But you can most certainly expect a less than favorable outcome in both situations. You’ll get the coolest of cool points if you can find an article of clothing that (a) she loves and (b) she can fit. But unless you’re into calculated risk-taking (and you shouldn’t be. Trust me on this one), just stick to a gift card from her favorite clothing store.

2. The gift of paying attention to, well, other stuff: When your lady has spent hours in the salon getting those highlights in her hair, she expects you to notice without her having to tell you. I admit, I’m not the most observant person in the world myself, so I can definitely see the challenges in this. But I remember once when I miraculously noticed my lady friend’s hairdo, she smiled from ear to ear. If we were dating at that time, I suspect I would’ve been on the receiving end of some instant fireplace action, if you catch my drift. Pay attention to stuff. Your rewards might be greater than you can ever imagine.

3. The gift of not saying stuff just for the sake of saying it: Make it count, and make it accurate. One thing about women is that they are absolutely BRILLIANT when it comes to identifying B.S. lines we use to curry favor with them. Coupled with that, they know exactly when they’re cute and when they look like a hot mess. Telling your lady she looks beautiful while she’s wearing sweaty gym clothes or even if she feels like she’s packed on some weight might earn you a side-eye of skepticism, even if you think it’s true. But what will definitely get you the side-eye (and probably a trip to the doghouse) is some lame attempt to compliment her when she’s sick in the bed with tissue sticking out of both nostrils and green mucus-y stuff drooling out of her mouth. She’ll read right through you. Sympathize with her, but shut up.

4. The gift of special food for a special person: When a guy really hits the jackpot, he’s able to get a woman who is anything but high maintenance. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still go to considerable lengths to treat your lady to the occasionally special culinary experience. So when it comes to food, particularly to celebrate special moments with her, I suggest one of two things: (1) learn how to cook and drop some fantastic meals in her lap or (2) be very judicious about the kind of restaurants where you take her. Unless she specifically wants to frequent certain places, avoid joints with counter-dining, giggling teenagers in the next booth, drive-thru windows (Duh!), buffets, or beeper thingies which let you know when your table is ready. Consider going to places where you would feel out of place if you weren’t wearing a tie.

5. The gift of channeling your inner Mr. Belvedere: This concept applies to all fellas, whether you live with your lady, spend a good amount of time at her place or if she spends even a modest amount of time at yours. Get off your John Brown hindparts and do some housework! By that I’m not talking about lifting your legs while she vacuums or moving your feet while she dusts the table. I’m not talking about taking all of your crap and tossing it behind the couch. I’m talking about scrubbing bathtubs, mopping floors, cleaning and disinfecting trashcans, washing, drying, and putting away the dishes, laundry, dusting. Of course, the outdoors work is also a part of your responsibility. But make your indoor work count too. If you think rock solid abs, bulging biceps, and a nice car are sexy to women, you should see what putting on a pair of rubber gloves and pulling out the Windex does to them.

6. The gift of doing for her and not for yourself: Whatever you do, don’t call tickets to the Michigan/Ohio State football game a “gift”, if she doesn’t like football. I don’t know what tiny organism crawls inside men’s heads, but something occasionally possesses us to buy our lady gifts that we secretly want for ourselves. Uh, don’t. And also, don’t try to be slick by buying her something that has more of a benefit to you. Buying your lady a garter belt and thigh high stockings, hot as that sounds right about now, will more than likely get picked up on by the womanfolk as a nefarious attempt to satisfy yourself under the guise of being a generous gift-giver. I mean, how would you feel if your lady bought you a yoga mat, some patent leather pumps, or a leopard-printed head scarf?  And while we’re on gift-giving, put some thought into your gifts fellas. Don’t buy at the last second. And please, please, please don’t buy your gift at a gas station. That should go without saying.

What’s up brothers? Anything else you can add?

- ACL

The Most Depressing Day in the Life of a Single…

…Man

It’s 1:00 on an unusually cold and rainy summer night. You just got home from your best friend’s wedding (a friend – by the way – whom nobody ever predicted would be in a committed relationship. Yet, there he is, in marital bliss).

Earlier that day, you ran into your ex who once cruelly gave you a vasectomy of the heart. Nevertheless, Mr. Karma has passed right over her and probably hasn’t even jotted her name down in his book. She seems to be doing quite well and has moved on to another man; a man who is taller than you, better built than you, wealthier than you, owns a top-of-the-line motorcycle, a sailboat, and a lakefront house, serves as a deacon at his church, coaches little league, volunteers his time at a local charity, is a personal trainer, and who recently appeared on a billboard.

The food at the wedding sucked, and there wasn’t enough of it.

Half-drunk and overwhelmed with misery, you stop by a store on the way home to grab an early copy of the newspaper and a bag of Doritos. A long night in your king-size bed awaits you, so you grab some items you’ll need to make the time pass.

A long night. Alone.

You have no voicemail messages on your phone.

You have no email messages awaiting you, except for junk mail from Nigerian scammers and some crap about how your 10:00 meeting at work was moved to 11:00.

The napkin you used to jot down that one cute bridesmaid’s number got destroyed in your wet pants.

Hoping to cheer yourself up, you pick up the copy of Maxim your friend gave you as he was “purging” himself for his big day. Out of curiosity, you look to Miss (whatever your birth month is) to see if the model does your month justice. She does. She’s beautiful. She appears to be pretty lively. She enjoys sports, romantic evenings, and sitcoms. You can totally see yourself with somebody like her. But, as you look over her factoid (OK, her factoid and her pictures), one other vital piece of information jumps out at you:

She’s 22.

Twenty-two years old. According to your calculations, when you were a freshman in college, she was in the fifth grade. Not that you ever had a chance with her, but the age deviation brought home a very sad reality: you’re now the old dude in the crowd.

You put the magazine away and head off to bed. But before you go to sleep, you make one more critical mistake: you turn on the TV. You see Justin Bieber sitting courtside at the Miami Heat game while Dwayne Wade and Lebron James have scored combined for 67 points by halftime. You also realize that each of these extremely rich, highly loved social icons all achieved their status before they turned 25. And, thus, another opportunity to feel small and insignificant.

But all is not completely lost. The events of the day have helped you to realize that it’s time to start growing up. This is the day you decide to tone down on the Maxim and the ESPN, and finally get around to ordering that subscription to Forbes magazine.

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…Woman

It’s 6:00 on a dark Saturday evening. You just left your best friend’s bridal shower, which coincided with the celebration of her promotion to regional manager at Wells Fargo. Her husband-to-be; a Ph.D. in Biochemistry, consultant to the Environmental Protection Agency, and nationally renowned scholar, has just been named Dean of the College of Arts, Sciences, and Letters at the University of Michigan.

You kicked him to the curb during your next to last year in college for being “too corny.”

As you congratulate them on their engagement and all of their success, they respond by thanking you for “making it all possible.”

There was too much too food at the shower. But in a bout with futility, you fight to avoid eating so much as a piece of cake. But you have no problem downing five cosmopolitans.

Half-drunk and overwhelmed with misery, you stop by a store on the way home to grab a pint of expensive ice cream, a TV guide, and the latest edition of People magazine. On the way home, you pass what you would swear were at least five hundred couples holding hands as they walk or kissing in public; all within a four mile drive from the store to your apartment.

As you finally arrive home, you lose a heel on your favorite shoes from that hole in the steps the landlord has been promising to fix for three months now.

You have no voicemail messages on your phone.

You have no email messages awaiting you, except for junk mail you get from Jones New York and some pictures of your sister’s handsome and super smart five-year-old son, who just tested at a 7th grade reading level.

You misplaced the phone number from that divorced accountant who you met on Tuesday and was supposed to go out with tonight. Your hard and fast rule of not giving out your number until the second date has backfired.

As you plop yourself on the couch, you realize that it’s too late to hit the mall, but it’s much too early to call it a night. There isn’t a thing to watch on TV and the Jennifer Aniston movie you wanted to see is no longer in the theater.

Desperate for something to cheer yourself up, you pick up the copy of People magazine to vicariously live the life of luxury through your favorite celebrities. Things are going well in your fantasy world until your thoughts are interrupted by your “I’m Every Woman” ringtone.

“Hello?” you answer.

It’s not Idris Elba.

It’s not LL Cool J.

It’s not Ryan Gosling.

It’s not even that divorced accountant dude.

It’s your mother.

“Hi honey. How was the party?”

“It was pretty nice. I got her a set of champagne flute glasses.”

“Honey, you really need to find yourself a nice man,” your mother unapologetically suggest.

Hanging up the phone (while silently thanking God that the conversation was interrupted by another caller, even if it was a wrong number), you call around, hoping to find someone with whom you can spend some time. Your married friends are all unavailable due to various domestic obligations and your single friends – limited as they are – are on dates themselves. You even considered giving your platonic neighbor a call, except things got weird between you two after his new (and sort of psychotic) girlfriend saw you guys walking back from the laundry room together.

Out of sheer boredom, you pull out that pint of ice cream while contemplating whether or not to get started on that “important project” at work, which actually isn’t due for another four months.

You concede to the moment by calling your mother back to tell her it’s OK to give your phone number to Mort, the organic ice cream vendor at the Farmer’s Market.

She informs you that even he’s been taken.

Hanging up again, you now conclude that there is no justice in the world. Just plenty of ice cream, your job, Lifetime, and men who are somebody else’s mate.

But all is not completely lost. The events of the day have helped you to realize that it’s time to start growing up. This is the day you decide to tone down on the People magazine and also finally get around to ordering that subscription to Forbes.

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On that note, um, Happy Valentines’ Day. :-/

- ACL

Eddie Long: The King of Kangs

The other day on Facebook, one of my sisters and my homegirl both hipped me to the latest antics of Bishop (and I use the term very loosely) Eddie Long and this cult parish over at New Life. In some weirdly ostentatious event at his church, Fast Eddie appears to have been coronated by guest speaker Rabbi Ralph Messer. I can’t call this one, so I’ll just let you see it for yourself (it gets interesting and, uh, stupid at around the 4 minute mark):

Got that? Fast Eddie…yes…the same Fast Eddied subjected to highly publicized allegations of sexual abuse and coercion of four young men…is now considered royalty. I haven’t the words.

Actually, I do I have a few things to say, mostly of an inquisitive nature:

(1) I’m sorry. But how is this not exalting a person of God? And where is this justified in the Bible? I forget.

(2) I can’t help but wonder how much Fast Eddie and his church paid this so-called “Rabbi” to do this mess.

(3) If the whole sex with boys thing isn’t enough for people to stop going to that damn church, will this? My guess is, not likely. In fact, evidence by all the people cheering and marveling at this coonery, I’m pretty sure he added a few members. Sigh. I know.

(4) Do they really expect us to believe that’s a real scroll? They know good and damn hell well they got that mess printed at Kinko’s.

(5) Carrying a throne? Really? What kind of hot mess is this?

(6) I wonder if Fast Eddie got aroused during all that talk about foreskin and raising stuff up (at the 1 minute mark). OK, let me stop.

Apparently, Fast Eddie has apologized for the event, but not because of the “crowning” itself, but because it may have attacked certain Jewish sensibilities:

I’m not Jewish and I don’t know much about the practice. So I’ll defer to them on that aspect of this story. But I will say as a Christian (particularly, but not limited to, being a member of a predominately black church), I’m concerned about how dangerous it is that church members erroneously elevate many of these so-called leaders to the status of God Himself. None of us are sinless, I get that. And I believe God is able and willing to use any one of us to advance His kingdom, despite our shortcomings. But this display is nothing short of flamboyance, arrogance, and nose-thumbing at God. Whether or not this was a deliberately orchestrated event to “restore” Fast Eddie to the ministry and bolster his embattled status, this nonsense was still wrong on every level possible.

What the heck is in the [holy?] water down there?

- ACL