Vultures pickin' at the bones of Michael Jackson
Suddenly, anybody who merely stood in his shadow, handed him a menu, watched him board a plane, passed him on the street, lived 20 doors down and thirty blocks away...is a media anointed expert on Michael Jackson....
Jackson very publicly distanced himself from his family...his father in particular...yet here’s Joe demanding a second autopsy to get some answers about "his boy."
"His boy" was a 50 year old man...
Rev, Inc.....Al and Jesse, the religious pimpin’ race hustlers extraordinaire....suddenly pop up as spokesmen for the family...
The ex nanny...the unauthorized biographer....the dancer in the fourth row of the chorus who danced behind him.....
All suddenly proclaimed experts on the King of Pop by the mainstream media..
All talking about his alleged drug abuse....all quiet and enabling while there was still time to help him....
silenced by the money...
The drama surrounding Michael Jackson is not new....the bigger the star...the crazier the circus when they pass......
James Brown..the godfather of soul...lays in state while the family fights over where to bury him...
Marvin Gaye..killed by his own father...10,000 people turned out to attend his wake...
Sam Cooke.... Aliyah, Otis Redding...Lisa Lopes....Tupac...Biggie Smalls....Frankie Lymon....
death gave them the kind of notoriety and peace they didn’t have while living..
Michael’s legend....monumental in life...
Will be insurrmountable in death....
Showing posts with label jesse jackson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jesse jackson. Show all posts
6.28.2009
11.08.2008
Still Holding My Breath
I knew it was serious when I saw all the young men and women dressed as if they’d only just gotten out of bed and needed to run out for some milk for the baby or smokes to jump start their day. The hood rats were up and out, but not on the corner. Not on this day, election day. The young men who sometimes make me cringe when I look at them, or hear them curse for no reason were up early. Usually cursing is the norm. It’s just the way they talk to everyone. But not today. The way they choose to dress, allowing their jeans to dangle to their knees in order to show off their designer boxers, makes me uncomfortable.
Pricey baseball caps seated sideways on their heads covering their doo rag, which covers their hair. Walking billboards from head to toe screaming out their favored clothing line. The hood rats were not restless this day. This day they were in line ahead of me at the poll, waiting quietly, talking respectfully to their elders, patiently allowing themselves to be directed by the poll officials, because like everyone else they were there to cast a vote for Barack Obama. They got it. They are not lost souls. They understood the importance of what was happening. America was aligning itself with the universe. Karma at work.
As I looked around, Sly Stone was ringing in my ears...”it’s a family affair..” Mothers showed up with their grown kids. They young ones followed, playing musical chairs and chowing down on chocolate chip cookies while the old ones took care of business. The wait was roughly 40 minutes..no one complained or got ugly, or walked out.
I like election days at my polling place.. it’s the one day of the year that you spend a little time hanging out with your neighbors. The conversations were friendly, meandering, passing time until the voting booth became available.
My precinct is like a village, young and old participate and they bring their kids. The poll workers are the same folks. I know them on sight and they know me. Pleasantries fly up and down the table, catching up since the primaries, which was the last time I’d been there or seen them. I flash ID only because it’s the law, pick up my two page ballot and step into the booth.
Voting was easy. The wait until the polls closed was excruciating. Just couldn’t keep myself busy or my mind off the subject at hand. Barack Obama.
I’ve already written about what I was feeling after his victory was announced. I’ve spent the past couple of days crying, thinking and tearing up. It’s been a very long catharsis. One that I don’t think is over even now.
Too many times, we’ve been to the mountain top, or looked out over the river and not been allowed to cross over. I was too young to vote for Kennedy. I was only 13 when he was killed. I remember the assassination of Malcolm X and the killing of Martin Luther King as if it was yesterday. I remember going to bed thinking Bobby Kennedy had won the California primary and would soon be our president, only to wake up and learn that he, too had been killed. I recall the run of Congresswoman Shirley Chisolm. It made me proud, but no one, not even I, took her seriously. The runs of the Reverend Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton were little more than punch lines for late night TV.
Always, one step forward, two steps back. Never in my lifetime did I think a black man or woman could cross over the summit. Right up until the time the vote was called for him, I had trouble believing. Voter suppression, racism, ballot errors..something was going to screw it up.
And you know what.....I’m still holding my breath until January 20th, 2009. So many things can go wrong in the next 75 days.
But even at this point, I’m grateful....thank you white people for putting away fears of the boogie man. Thank you for turning out and finally, finally, allowing us to feel, for the first time, that we are simply Americans, real Americans.
It’s okay.....you don’t have to like us, but by voting for Barack you have finally conceded that all humanity does not necessarily look, act, or talk like you.
Pricey baseball caps seated sideways on their heads covering their doo rag, which covers their hair. Walking billboards from head to toe screaming out their favored clothing line. The hood rats were not restless this day. This day they were in line ahead of me at the poll, waiting quietly, talking respectfully to their elders, patiently allowing themselves to be directed by the poll officials, because like everyone else they were there to cast a vote for Barack Obama. They got it. They are not lost souls. They understood the importance of what was happening. America was aligning itself with the universe. Karma at work.
As I looked around, Sly Stone was ringing in my ears...”it’s a family affair..” Mothers showed up with their grown kids. They young ones followed, playing musical chairs and chowing down on chocolate chip cookies while the old ones took care of business. The wait was roughly 40 minutes..no one complained or got ugly, or walked out.
I like election days at my polling place.. it’s the one day of the year that you spend a little time hanging out with your neighbors. The conversations were friendly, meandering, passing time until the voting booth became available.
My precinct is like a village, young and old participate and they bring their kids. The poll workers are the same folks. I know them on sight and they know me. Pleasantries fly up and down the table, catching up since the primaries, which was the last time I’d been there or seen them. I flash ID only because it’s the law, pick up my two page ballot and step into the booth.
Voting was easy. The wait until the polls closed was excruciating. Just couldn’t keep myself busy or my mind off the subject at hand. Barack Obama.
I’ve already written about what I was feeling after his victory was announced. I’ve spent the past couple of days crying, thinking and tearing up. It’s been a very long catharsis. One that I don’t think is over even now.
Too many times, we’ve been to the mountain top, or looked out over the river and not been allowed to cross over. I was too young to vote for Kennedy. I was only 13 when he was killed. I remember the assassination of Malcolm X and the killing of Martin Luther King as if it was yesterday. I remember going to bed thinking Bobby Kennedy had won the California primary and would soon be our president, only to wake up and learn that he, too had been killed. I recall the run of Congresswoman Shirley Chisolm. It made me proud, but no one, not even I, took her seriously. The runs of the Reverend Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton were little more than punch lines for late night TV.
Always, one step forward, two steps back. Never in my lifetime did I think a black man or woman could cross over the summit. Right up until the time the vote was called for him, I had trouble believing. Voter suppression, racism, ballot errors..something was going to screw it up.
And you know what.....I’m still holding my breath until January 20th, 2009. So many things can go wrong in the next 75 days.
But even at this point, I’m grateful....thank you white people for putting away fears of the boogie man. Thank you for turning out and finally, finally, allowing us to feel, for the first time, that we are simply Americans, real Americans.
It’s okay.....you don’t have to like us, but by voting for Barack you have finally conceded that all humanity does not necessarily look, act, or talk like you.
3.04.2007
Rhythm, Race and Politics
I guess I should be happy that finally, America is talking openly about race. We’ve got new laws and resolutions to ban the “N” word. We’ve got re-enactments of bloody Sunday down in Selma, recalling the events that culminated in the passage of the 1965 Voting Rights Act.
We’ve got blogs and news programs and major magazines debating whether or not Obama is black enough and accepted by “real black” Americans. Others want to know if Hillary and her card carrying black man of a husband will steal the White House away from the “blood born” black man that is Barack.
We’ve even got the Cherokee Nation kicking out the descendants of their slaves because they are not Native American by blood. Yes, Native Americans owned black slaves, in case that lesson was omitted from your history book. And up until yesterday, the slave descendants were considered part of the Cherokee Nation. The vote to rescind tribal membership was 76 percent in favor. Some are calling the vote racist. Others say it is self determination.
This Obama thing is funny. For most of this country’s history, what defined people as black was “one drop” of black blood, never mind what the skin color was. Obama is fully 50 percent black, so what is the problem? He looks black. He married black. His kids are black. He goes to a black church. Black man!
If white supremacists ever kick off their racial holy war, Obama will be right there next to Tiger Woods getting his head blown off with the rest of us obviously real blacks. So why question his ethnicity now when he’s running for president? Unlike young Eldrick, he doesn’t appear conflicted about who he is, so why should we be?
Anyone remember the Rainbow coalition. Jesse Jackson used to tell us that there were 64 shades of blackness. Black people, Jackson used to say, come in all colors and shades.
African Americans are a living, breathing rainbow. Obama is one shade of that rainbow.
Again I ask, what is the problem? Maybe it’s because he doesn’t feel black. Bill Clinton feels like a black man even though he isn’t and that is hard to explain. There is a rhythm to blackness... a musical....lyrical way of reacting to and within the universe. I’ll be honest, I don’t feel that rhythm with Obama. But I do feel that rhythm with Bill Clinton. I don’t feel that rhythm with Hillary Clinton. Hillary is a white girl, brilliant, but rhythm-less. Clarence Thomas is very obviously a black man. But he is rhythm-less and clueless and I’m not feeling him at all.
But my feelings don’t make Obama any less black. I can still relate to the brother and I suspect that most of my fellow blacks can too.
Now can we get on with the real issues of this campaign?
We’ve got blogs and news programs and major magazines debating whether or not Obama is black enough and accepted by “real black” Americans. Others want to know if Hillary and her card carrying black man of a husband will steal the White House away from the “blood born” black man that is Barack.
We’ve even got the Cherokee Nation kicking out the descendants of their slaves because they are not Native American by blood. Yes, Native Americans owned black slaves, in case that lesson was omitted from your history book. And up until yesterday, the slave descendants were considered part of the Cherokee Nation. The vote to rescind tribal membership was 76 percent in favor. Some are calling the vote racist. Others say it is self determination.
This Obama thing is funny. For most of this country’s history, what defined people as black was “one drop” of black blood, never mind what the skin color was. Obama is fully 50 percent black, so what is the problem? He looks black. He married black. His kids are black. He goes to a black church. Black man!
If white supremacists ever kick off their racial holy war, Obama will be right there next to Tiger Woods getting his head blown off with the rest of us obviously real blacks. So why question his ethnicity now when he’s running for president? Unlike young Eldrick, he doesn’t appear conflicted about who he is, so why should we be?
Anyone remember the Rainbow coalition. Jesse Jackson used to tell us that there were 64 shades of blackness. Black people, Jackson used to say, come in all colors and shades.
African Americans are a living, breathing rainbow. Obama is one shade of that rainbow.
Again I ask, what is the problem? Maybe it’s because he doesn’t feel black. Bill Clinton feels like a black man even though he isn’t and that is hard to explain. There is a rhythm to blackness... a musical....lyrical way of reacting to and within the universe. I’ll be honest, I don’t feel that rhythm with Obama. But I do feel that rhythm with Bill Clinton. I don’t feel that rhythm with Hillary Clinton. Hillary is a white girl, brilliant, but rhythm-less. Clarence Thomas is very obviously a black man. But he is rhythm-less and clueless and I’m not feeling him at all.
But my feelings don’t make Obama any less black. I can still relate to the brother and I suspect that most of my fellow blacks can too.
Now can we get on with the real issues of this campaign?
11.28.2006
Kramer Redux
I have a problem with the way Michael Richards is making amends for his racist tirade at the Laugh Factory last week.
After further embarrassing himself on Letterman, Richards hires a public relations expert, who allegedly has years of experience in handling black people. This hack then proceeds to have Richards call Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton to apologize.
Why?
Jackson and Sharpton weren’t the ones offended. Jackson and Sharpton don’t represent the guys who were in the audience. Jackson and Sharpton don’t represent black people.
In fact, the only people who think Jackson and Sharpton are leaders of the black race, are white people.
That is probably the most racist thing about whites....they think that one man or woman can legitimately speak for an entire race of people. Jackson and Sharpton have been making hay off this assumption for years.
They have no power within the community. They are convenient. When some news talking head needs a comment from a black man, they go find Jesse or Al.
So now we go through news conferences with Richards saying he’s sorry again, while Jesse or Al or both stand solemnly in the background.
The only thing missing is the “power to the people” salute, black fist clothed in black leather glove thrown to the sky in unity.
“Kramer”..... dump the hack, get away from Jackson and Sharpton, and get yourself into counseling or some anger management courses. You need to deal with what’s going on inside you before you step back onto a stage.
Your fans will wait.
After further embarrassing himself on Letterman, Richards hires a public relations expert, who allegedly has years of experience in handling black people. This hack then proceeds to have Richards call Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton to apologize.
Why?
Jackson and Sharpton weren’t the ones offended. Jackson and Sharpton don’t represent the guys who were in the audience. Jackson and Sharpton don’t represent black people.
In fact, the only people who think Jackson and Sharpton are leaders of the black race, are white people.
That is probably the most racist thing about whites....they think that one man or woman can legitimately speak for an entire race of people. Jackson and Sharpton have been making hay off this assumption for years.
They have no power within the community. They are convenient. When some news talking head needs a comment from a black man, they go find Jesse or Al.
So now we go through news conferences with Richards saying he’s sorry again, while Jesse or Al or both stand solemnly in the background.
The only thing missing is the “power to the people” salute, black fist clothed in black leather glove thrown to the sky in unity.
“Kramer”..... dump the hack, get away from Jackson and Sharpton, and get yourself into counseling or some anger management courses. You need to deal with what’s going on inside you before you step back onto a stage.
Your fans will wait.
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