I know that you probably think that I’m just sitting down eating cannolis all day but I’ve actually been really busy of late. Stuff has been popping off, you know?  Here is a peek into the month of May 2009.

Cassie’s Got Goodies

Aspiring music industry starlet, Cassie, showed the world her vagina to boost album sales recently. In addition to a full frontal nude picture in which Cassie is holding each leg with each hand, she also released some topless photos. I’m not going to be one of those people that will post the pictures to his website, but let’s just say that I’ve seen the photos. I’d like to take this time to thank Cassie, personally, for letting me know that both of her nipples are pierced in addition to her clitoris.  The only thing we haven’t seen from Cassie is her anus, so I feel like I might be ready to pretend that I know an actual song that Cassie sings now. I’m still not buying her album, but it sure was nice to see her vagina. Thanks again, Cassie. I’m sure you’re destined to be a big star. Even if you don’t make it, I want you to know that you can always call me. Seriously if it doesn’t work out, and Sean Combs finally marries Kim Porter, I want you to know that it isn’t too late to just email me so we can talk about it.

Rihanna’s Got Goodies

Not to be outdone, certified R&B diva Rihanna decided to go ahead and put her assets out there in the World Wide Web and pictures of her lady parts suddenly started appearing along with pictures of Chris Brown with panties on his head. I don’t think that Rihanna won this round –despite her star power, because she never went full spread eagle like Cassie did. The best that Rihanna could do was the lean-over, back shot that left some, more obscure, parts of her vagina up for the imagination. If you are a heterosexual Black male, I hope that you have had a chance to view the pictures. If not, email me on this site and I’ll see what I can do. There are so many other sites out there that are probably showing it that you could Google the key words and I bet that the photos come up. It’s not like she didn’t put them out there herself for the whole world to see so I’m not really promoting it like that. I do condone her behavior, though. Rihanna, you may carry on…

Really Now? Really?

Some kid dropped out of San Diego High School after his junior year to play professional basketball overseas. (Sound familiar?) Yes, pretty soon this will have The Problem with Middle School Sports written all over it but I couldn’t bring myself to do the actual research on this story in order to make it pop. You’ll just have to take my word for how dumb this move is. On the one hand you have an opportunity to get a lot of money from your rather mundane ability to put a round ball in a round hole. On the other hand, you aren’t going to be academically, emotionally, or socially prepared to satisfy the bare minimum of this society’s standard for a functional human being. Dropping out of college for the cash makes a little more sense, if only because college has long been categorized as optional. (However, my father would make the argument today that the facts are changing.) The last time that I checked, high school was mandatory and guys that can’t finish are destined to not get God’s joke about their life.

I know what you’re thinking. Isn’t this strangely reminiscent of surfing icon Joel Tudor and the fact that he left his high school and California in order to pursue a professional career? Well, sort of but I would make a strong case that Joel’s journey took him at least to high school equivalency because the mentoring structure is different in professional surfing than embarking in professional basketball. A life of traveling the world surfing for a living is the equivalent of getting a PhD in life studies or at the worst leisure studies. Traveling the world playing in various basketball leagues, even with a General Equivalency Degree (GED), amounts to coming limp and there doesn’t seem to be much glory in at all. A voluntary expatriate might soon realize that the comforts of home are not so bad at all regardless of how much success is abroad or how poor his conditions were before. The difference is probably the fact that there is simply no other way in surfing, and the established routes in basketball are so tried and true it rather looks like Jeremy Tyler is running from something.  Time will surely tell.  As a people, black folk have been down this road too many times to count... Although he could be a millionaire.

How’s About Them Stags?

In high school sports the Stags had a good spring. DeMatha was in the hunt in everything, but ended up taking the two more WCAC championships in tennis and then lacrosse. The golf team couldn’t get it firing like last year and the super sophomore Ben Warnquist didn’t successfully defend his titles in the WCAC when they lost Paul VI; and again in the Private Schools Championship when he lost to Georgetown Prep by a significant stroke margin. The Stags’ baseball team made the play-offs and lost to an excellent Bishop Ireton Cardinals team 4-2 in the semi-finals. (The baseball final featured what some are calling a shift in power to the two Virginia schools Bishop Ireton and Paul VI –who also won a state title in the sport this year in addition to the WCAC title.) The track team missed their opportunity to defend their crowns when star junior Corey Puffet went down in the first day on with an injury and Gonzaga won their third WCAC title in the year. 

Senior golfer Luke Thatcher will graduate from DeMatha in June along with the rest of the bunch, so he is pictured here to represent yet another great class of Stags.   It also gives you a good shot at his golf bag and golf shirt.  Basically, the DeMatha uniforms are fresh and you should root for them.  Seriously if you don't, I heard that you're the devil.  At the very least, you'd be considered one of his minions.  The bottom line is that Luke Thatcher still had a great year and no matter what happens in the sport of golf, he still has a bright future ahead of him.  My hats are really off to the seniors this year.  They represented so hard and so official that I am sure that this year is going down in the history books as one of the best.  Maybe they didn't win as many titles as other years, but something about this class was certainly special.

Stags LAX

It is a good thing that Tommy Chroniger is on the lacrosse team because he scored the go-ahead goal in the championship game against Saint Mary's Ryken.  It is also a good thing that the tennis team was mad about losing to Gonzaga last year because DeMatha has a grand total of four WCAC titles this year. (One more than Gonzaga has.) I didn’t make any of the lacrosse games this year because they play right after school and I’m usually still working. I’m really sorry because I heard that we had a really nice team this year. As usual, DeMatha spent most of their time concentrating on winning the 2009 WCAC lacrosse championship at the expense of losing bragging rights games to traditional Washington DC area powers, Georgetown Prep and Landon. We did beat St. Albans this year, which rounds out the IAC conference second tier of competition, so the Stags might be ready to make another run at an undefeated season if they can get their acts together. If you don’t know lacrosse personalities, then you have no idea what I’m talking about but 11 out of the last 12 WCAC championships ain’t bad. We still only had one conference loss this year so to them it probably didn’t matter to them that much when they lost to the rich kids from another conference during tune-up games. DeMatha senior Phillip Poe doesn't seem like the kind of kid that gives a damn how much money you might have in the bank because he is still going to win all of the face-offs, anyway. 

Stags Tennis Backhand Smacks That Gonzaga

Speaking about the rich kids in the conference, I’m always glad when we can stick it to Gonzaga. (See Phillip Poe photo above.)  I’m so happy that the DeMatha Stag tennis team totally did it to the Purple Eagles, too. Some of you already know that I grew up playing lacrosse on Long Island and have a great deal of affection for the sport, but I want you to know that I have also enjoyed tennis. The reason why I bring this up is because I learned at a very early age that certain sports require a certain mind set in order to be successful in them. (I was fair in both, but not totally awesome: I have endurance but only a slight superiority complex.) I alluded to it in the preceding paragraph in trying to capture a slice of the lacrosse personality, but the bottom line is that tennis is an individual form of the same general complex.  DeMatha definitely had the tennis player that worked the hardest last year, and yet we still lost the team championship in 2008. In 2009 the Stags came in with the right attitude and carried the cerebral sport in a sweep with the best individual player and the WCAC title over defending Gonzaga. It doesn’t get much sweeter than that. DeMatha senior John Collins took the individual honors so he is pictured in the inset, here.  Well, at least he's in the smaller one.

Bring on the victory girls…

Steady Showers: Idea Development Department 

Brain Teaser is a vigilante that eventually kills people after torturing them using his wits. I need to know if anyone out there in the cartoon world can help me develop this character that I want to write into life. I need someone that can draw comics or anime to help me with the vision. So who’s ‘bout it? I think that the world is ready for a new kind of super hero. I think that we can take the new mythology to higher heights. I probably have enough for two series right now, but I could do a whole lot more if I knew what these people looked like. Holler at your boy and send me a message on this web site if you think that you might know somebody.

Anyway, back by popular demand, Miss Denise Milani.  She's holding it down for a lot of people out there in the Internet world.  I'm really feeling the purple, too.  I bet her knee caps are sexy.  From what I can see of her elbows, they're off the hook.  I'm not saying that she's perfect, or anything.  Just sayin'.

You Tube It

Have you guys seen The Top Sixty Ghetto Names of all time? Two Latino kids made it up. Some are crying racism and others just find it funny. Here’s how I draw the line: if I want to join in, then it’s funny. If I don’t join in, it’s not funny and you’re a racist bastard. The highlights from the You Tube video:

Fri’chikeneisha: you know it’s wrong, but would laugh if you heard it.

Koolaidria: again, this one is pure genius.

Obamaniqua: it is a sign of the times, and you know some black mom will do it.

Collargreeneisha: borderline over the top, but Oleracea and cruciferous vegetables excite me.

Clitorisandrea: I think that this one already happened in real life.

Timberlandria: This is one that was destined to be manifested.

Newportia: 100% true, just like the menthol cigarettes.

La’weavatrice: I bet that there are one’s out there that are close to this now.

I’m adding Dankeneesha and Bluntrishia as two more personal favorites to round out the top ten. Okay, last one: Rapperecia. I guess, I think that it’s funny so my brown brothers get a pass.  If you happened to be offended by my contributions in this area, rest assured that I at least provided an educational link as an escape.  (See above.)  If you just clicked on the video then you really need to start owning up to your responsibilities and contributions in the degeneration of our society.  Seriously.  Get a grip.

The Battle of the Beltway: Baseball Edition

I was in DC for the Memorial Day weekend and taking in the festivities of the Nationals versus Orioles baseball series in our nation’s capital. It was totally fresh. The Washington Nationals actually suck pretty badly but there is nothing like going to see professional baseball in America. I think that is why they call it America’s pastime. I don’t trust Americans that say that they don’t like baseball or Coca-Cola. I don’t trust men that don’t love their mothers either. I also seem to have a problem with people that don’t own washcloths, but that might be being a bit snobbish. So is the thing about not trusting men without any facial hair or playing cards with men named after cities. All of the little quirks that I have probably owe themselves to something deeply seated in my subconscious, but whatever.

(There was this time that I lost like $50 in a dice game while breaking the cardinal rule about dice games: Never shoot dice with someone that has dice tattooed somewhere on their body.) I'm cutting off all my facial hair for the summer. Anyway the only reason why I’m bringing all of this stuff up is because the Nationals actually won a game during the series. I got to see a grand slam in the Washington Nationals ballpark during an 8-5 win. I think that the person that hit it was Adam Dunn, the left fielder. The Nationals really don’t win that many games so this was a rare occurrence, indeed. Of course, it is still the beginning of the season and there is a long way to go, but I just wanted to let you all know that I’ll be back on the baseball tip. This series doesn’t have anything on the New York Mets versus New York Yankees, but it was kind of cool to see how it all went down, Beltway style. 

Another great year for the DeMatha Stags graduation Bonus Round:

"If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead and rotten either write something worth reading or do things worth the writing." -Benjamin Franklin

The single, greatest issue of Frank magazine ever published is about to be released and I need you to make every effort to go out and get it. (Have it delivered.)  Of course, I’m not just saying that because I’m in the aforementioned issue of Frank. (Claim bomb!) I would be saying that it is the greatest issue of Frank that I have ever seen, anyway.  Enter the 36^th chapter of Frank and order your subscription today, friends. The best $12 that you’ll spend on anything that isn’t drug related and paper-based this year.

I guess here is the part that I tell you that everybody’s favorite stylist was the guest curator for a one of a kind naked girl extravaganza. I’m sure that you would have figured that out on your own because my sister’s real secret to styling is to keep everybody in as little clothing as possible. [Cut to Lysa saying, “take off all your clothes… Hold this plunger… Ok, we’re ready for the album cover.’] Lysa isn’t just preaching like a hypocrite, though. (I thought that I already told ya'll about capitalizing on iconography?) In this issue of Frank my sister is naked on every other page. The interview was a nice touch though because it explains everything.

Frank is a multiracial cross between High Times, Playboy, The Source, and Jet –only smaller.  There are two Japanese girls, one Latina hottie, and even a clown showing a little titty in the 36^th installment of Frank Magazine. So to be blessed like that you think that it would have taken lawyers to broker a deal of this magnitude? You’d be wrong. About eight years ago I was kicking it with Mike and “Steve” Malbon and I expressed an interest in writing for Frank because they own it. Mike was like “yeah, I want to do something with your sister” or some other disrespectful shit like that. Steve just stood there rolling a blunt.

Anyway I floated the idea of writing an article on her, but to be honest with you, I would do a poor job. I think that I must have known that going in because I don’t think that I actually submitting anything for publication. What did happen is we all got seriously blowed up in the club that night. Mike kept going on and on about how he could somehow have Lysa affiliated with the magazine. (I already thought that she was, honestly –and then I reconsidered in my reply.) I think this happened a little later than that One World with Russell Simmons came out and I might have made the remark, “she’ll do it if you let her take it over” in between puffs.

Anyway, someone must have heard me say that at the party over there on the West Side back in the day because it just went down.

That’s the kind of shit I bring to the table. (Put me on. Check the wmv and pdf samples. Six figures for a creative genius.) And there you have it: when you couple creativity with a whole lot of brainpower it can sometimes look a little too easy.  Just about anybody thinks that they have the stuff that the genuine synergy yields when they stand so close.  The kid from Glen Cove has been shining since before he had bars on his shoulders and earned a couple of college degrees.  Once more, he did it when nobody saw him coming but even if you went head to head with Long Island BIG DIC chances are you'll be wiping your eyes.  Uneducated clowns swear that they’re the bee’s knees and fail to recognize that even strong chains won’t turn without gears or grease. I’m sorry but I can’t stand it when otherwise good planning goes completely to waste because of an avaricious pursuit of ulterior motives –unless they’re mine.

When I think of the trivialities of good faith tokens that could alleviate the flagrant fouls against hipster-dom, it makes me shudder to contemplate associations. Cats are out there really thinking like they could possibly fake this Renaissance that is clearly going down.  Does anyone out there really believe that hopping on and claim bombing your way to a brighter future is going to pay greater lifelong dividends over the classical study of art, literature, science and management?  Somebody should have told ya'll that nobody could stop The Bruzz because, if you clicked on the links in the preceding paragraph you'll realize that I not only study the classics, I put them into practice. I guess I wanted to share some of the underbelly of the freelance hipster grind with you because everything doesn’t always turn up sweet in that life either. If corporate America is impermanent then hipster America is like trying to build on air, or in this case, smoke. Some people would say that I constantly glorify it on my website, so let this stand as an example for the contrary argument that I am balanced. See, I cut back significantly.

The good part about all of this is, of course, that the whole Frank thing went off without a hitch though. It only took the better part of decade with those stoners over there in quarterly magazine land. (Someone really needs to tell them that they aren’t exactly destroying stereotypes of potheads across the globe by publishing a very small magazine –filled mainly with pictures, only four times a year.) I love those guys over there at Frank though. Mike and Steve Malbon, two white guys, have done a lot for the downtown black man of leisure.

Anytime you have U-God getting shout-outs in your advertisements for your appointment-only barbershop that happens to be open on Sundays, you’re making it happen. Anytime that your crew throws open-bar parties in the middle of the day in downtown lofts that nobody even really knows about unless you’re NYC official then you’re making it happen. Anytime that you make it happen while in the club making it happen then you’re definitely making it happen!  I won’t even get into the fact that they got the freshest fitted hats in the game right now. (It’s a good time to have paper. Speaking of paper, my mans Georgie at Frank’s Chop Shop told me that Frank just inked a deal with Bambú.) Mike and Steve made it pop off, and I really respect them for that.

Shout-outs to Irina Lazar, Francesco Clemente, Vanessa Salle, and Camellia Clouse!

We lost one of the greats the other day and I have been purposefully remiss in writing about it. It isn’t like Shawn Mortensen wasn’t one of my good friends, but the iconic photographer decided to take his own life. (At one point we split time on my sister's couch.  We shared many a philosophical moment as our lives were caught in crossroads and needing the assistance of others.)  My own personal philosophy prevents me from concurring in acts of suicide so let that be a warning to you should you decide to determine the timing of your departure from this world; I will not comply with the timing of my grief for you. Just like the loss of another old friend not more than two months ago, this one is deep. Shawn spent his last days in close contact with my brother who has a knack for getting people they help they need as far as rehabilitation is concerned.  It must have been pretty bad on Shawn in order to lose such hope because I've seen him overcome even more insurmountable odds.  I feel sort of numb to it all because of the proximity to the death of my friend Coleman Mellett so I won’t write too much about Shawn. I wrote that “we lost” Shawn because you know him too and if you’re reading this you know his work speaks for itself.

I had an insatiable thirst for knowledge about rap celebrities that I idolized from being trapped on a ship in complete isolation and when I got out of the Coast Guard I could always pick Shawn's brain.  He had worked with them all.  Shawn knew if they were for real, or just phony.  Shawn was one of the guys that you could kick it with all night, too.  He would match you drink for drink, and he wasn't leaving until all the good weed was smoked.  That's a guy's guy for you, right there.  Thinking about all of this shit is actually fucking me up right now and I know why I couldn't write anything when it happened.  When Lysa told me I was in total disbelief.  Part of me still is, and I keep thinking of silly stuff like the superstition that says this kind of thing happens in threes.  It's real dumb sounding, too.  I'm out here writing a blog about someone that I probably could have saved.  I'm not saying that my brother wasn't a good choice seeing as though they shared the same addiction and city of Los Angeles...  I don't even know what I'm saying, anymore.  Maybe I just wish that I had some more time with Shawn.  I know that it is totally selfish of me considering everything that must have transpired to even get to the point, but I can't help but think about it.

I borrowed some of his pictures for The Chronicles of Six because I'm trying to remember more of the good stuff about Shawn.  Whether you knew it or not, Shawn Mortensen probably provided the images that you associate with your favorite artists.  The man was probably the most published photographer of the musicians of Generation X.  Shawn was there (in NYC) when hip-hop started but he didn't just ride that wave.  Shawn crossed genres.  He hit all of the icons in his time and made them even more iconic.

Ghostface Killah, Ian Brown, Ice Cube, Wu-Tang Clan, Dr. Dre, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Mos Def, The Notorious B.I.G. (twice), Tupac (twice), John Lee Hooker, Eric Clapton and John Lee Hooker, and the Godfather of Soul James Brown are some of my favorites.  Click on Shawn's name above and find your own favorites.  I think that my friend probably took their picture, too. 

Shawn, I put on the Biggie Smalls in a celebration of your life homey.  We'll always share a love for Brooklyn's Finest and I always understood and forgave your love of Tupac.  I know you didn't mean to hurt my feelings in your arguments about who was the bigger influence on the culture.  I'm willing to give all the points awarded for charisma over to you, my friend.  I'm going to miss you.

What can I say about April, other than spring? This time of year really speaks to me now that I’m not living in the land of perpetual summer anymore. The winter was especially cold for your boy. 2008 was great but we have to be honest with ourselves after a first quarter assessment of this year. Newer goals have to be set because the parameters are so official and constant.  I am fortunate enough to write that I have already achieved the pinnacle that I had imagined in my youth and the vision has finally shifted.

The latest development these days is that I still have a great job and I’m still single. I know that it really doesn’t make much sense, but that is exactly how it is going down. If this keeps up much longer, I’ll be living in Japan and holding down the Land of the Rising Sun. Stacking chips on a whole new level is what is going down in 2009, and everybody knows that you’ll definitely need a lot of paper if you want to live in Tokyo. And, yes, I want to live in Tokyo – I hear that they have nice precincts there.  Well I don't necessarily have to live there forever, but I think that a year or six would be nice.

I don’t think that it is much of a secret now that my next destination is the Far East. I have to seriously see one of those meditative gardens. My fascination could be getting the better of me, but I believe that I am destined to see where all of these Cherry Blossom trees came from. They better never let me get over there with a working Visa either, because then I know that I’m never coming back. Even though I don’t speak Japanese, I feel like I’m a fast learner and I will still roll the dice in a heartbeat.

The flowers are absolutely out of control. As you already know, I absolutely love flowers. Flowers are blooming all around despite the fact that it is still early in the season. I love it when the flowers bloom and fill the air with their fragrances of herbal fornication.  It just makes me want to get out there and stare them down while they are still here.  I won't even gather them anymore.  I believe that gathering them is a young person's game, but I'm free to gaze.  Just as spring follows winter, you cannot interrupt the natural order of things.  Yeah I'm totally rambling and not focused but I got you to look at all these flowers.

Dr. Poston would be proud.

The following short posts are meant to be read aloud in your best Ghostface Killah voice: a real heavy Staten Island, ghetto, authoritative, prison-trained accent that requires lingual dexterity.  You need to stay on your dean to get all that you can out what is on the screen right now.  It's almost 5%, but not really, so I suspect you'll do okay if you can talk like you got some sense and understand how the words should be stressed.

The Foreign Exchange

I forgot to tell you people that I went to the Foreign Exchange show at The Black Cat not too long ago. (I want to say it was March 6.) Normally I’m not that all that thrilled about going to R&B shows, especially alone, but I had to make the trip to see what it was all about. Yeah, great music is something that you have to go and see with or without a date, sometimes. “Something To Behold.” I don’t have any pictures so you’ll have to take my word for it.  I guess you'll also have to take my word that The Foreign Exchange put on a good show.  The opening act was cute.

There were some things there, too, but all bunned. I drank Guinness and called it early.

Guess That Stylist

So Keyshia Cole came to Washington DC to some NABOB event where she received R&B singer of the year. March 19 and a child must have been thinking, “Oh, what to wear? What to wear?” You get the picture. But if you didn’t get the pictures here is how it went down in my mind. We didn’t linger at the NABOB event even though DJ Clark Kent was spinning for the people in tuxedos at the Woodley Park hotel. Instead, Lysa and I went to Dukem on U Street and then to Rudy & Natalie’s to check on the kids. Once again this proved to be the best plan. The McGann’s make it pop off.

And then Tom sent me a text and said that Lysa was looking good in VIBE with T.I. on the cover. (There is a short article on Lysa in that VIBE, too.)  I remember actually who-riding the set because T.I. isn't even in jail yet and his picture alluded to a certain transformation made by one Malcolm "Detroit Red" Little into Malcolm X.  (A transformation that was made while he was currently incarcerated is such a miracle when one considers the American system of justice and how it relates to oppression -especially pronounced in his time.)  Incidentally, I can make the same argument for the transformation made by Malcolm X into one El Hajj Malik el Shabazz.  That is right black knowledge right there.  That's free for the streets right there.  I stole these pictures from Bossip so I feel I have to give a little something back.  Quietly, Bossip is a secret addiction of mine.  Don't tell nobody, though. 

I guess nobody told Keyshia that her dress was a little too short to be on a stage sitting on a stool.  For obvious reasons I'm actually a fan of that move, though.  I'm only mentioning this because there are folks out there that think that my sister's job is to actually select the actual outfit for the artist.  Without giving away her trade secrets, I will merely state that Lysa is more apt to show the world anyway.  I'm going to need to keep my man union card and its already bad enough that my sister has me writing about fashion on my blog.  Is it really that deep?

And NABOB means National Association of Black Own Broadcasters so you need to study on that.

I’m Too Busy Working; Stags Lost at Alhambra; Dream Big

I’m in the midst of major project productions so I haven’t been following the Stags at Alhambra.  As a direct result of my inattention, I believe they lost to St. Francis of Baltimore and they will not be playing for the Championship as they previously had dreamed. I know that it kind of sucks but let’s be honest here for a second: as long as the Stags didn’t lose to Gonzaga I’m okay. We definitely got our shine on this year and nobody can take that away from the DeMatha Stags. Two out of three goals for the year aren’t bad. Naji Hibbert was right when he said that there aren’t that many DeMatha teams that are able to win the triple crown of Washington DC metropolitan area basketball.

This year’s team is certainly worthy of a favorable recording in history having won the WCAC regular season championship, WCAC tournament championship, and City Title. Sure it wasn’t exactly the triple crown that we would have liked, but we also won our game on ESPNU against Bishop O’Connell. That was a big time win, mark my words. DeMatha will be featured on national television again, next year, my friends. The future is looking bright for the Stags. Quinn Cook is coming back.  Victor Oladipo is coming back. Jerian Grant is coming back. Michael Hopkins is coming back. James Robinson is coming back. If this season was about coping with loss, and I suspect it was, then certainly next season is about to be the blossoming of the seedlings.

Mike Jones has sown his garden well and there are only better kids coming like the Kardashians. The league has to deal with at least two guys in every Stag class that want to go out like winners and the varsity is completely stacked up. Can anyone think of a basketball team more balanced than that in any league in the country? These guys could break records. If they mess around and have two more years of 30 wins and minimal losses a National Championship isn’t inconceivable. I don’t know if we have a solid post presence that can steady us for a run like that but if one were to materialize I think that it would be safe to say that the Stags should dream as big as Kim's ass. We haven’t won one since I was in school: 1991, and if you’ve been following DeMatha then you know we’re just about due.

Anyway, keeping it totally real, the Stags did a hell of a job and this was only the beginning.  There will be more girls paraded on this site victoriously.  Monica Sofia, Kourtney and Kim Kardashian are here to show you that your three titles aren't bad.  Sure the photos could have been better, like the football championship, but these still are not completely terrible.  Sure Alhambra would have been nice, but we still have the regular season, tournament and City Title to console ourselves with. We still red, white and blue. 

We're still America's Catholic High School Team.  Stags are going to continue to run this. 

GO STAGS!

Sugar Ray Cooper is a Celebrity

Here’s the part where I tell you that my life is ridiculous and everyone always pretends like their life can somehow compare. I mean people that aren’t my friends. The people that are my friends are just as weird and their lives are touched in some special way as well so it doesn’t really apply to them like that. But anyway in the latest issue of Cooper chronicles Sugar Ray, my sister’s black terrier, was recently caught out on a frozen lake chasing geese and my man Eric had to save him. In an ordinary person’s life, Eric wouldn’t be one of the founding father’s of reality television (Real World New York) and he wouldn’t be stripped down naked swimming in a frozen lake.

No, seriously, I’m totally not kidding. It’s totally true and there are pictures and Internet news stories to prove it. Sugar Ray Cooper is official in the game. I would also like to take this time to tell you that Eric is totally out of control. Once he tried to sell my friend on this pee therapy and he’s always doing a lot of healthy fasting and all that kind of stuff. Two summers ago (the 40th anniversary of the Summer of Love) he got into a contest with Dirty Jefe to see who could get the tannest. Eric is always into something super white boy, hippie, but usually with a super healthy slant to it as well. His girlfriend is always smoking hot and super healthy too. They travel the world together holding it down and surfing and looking beautiful while healing people for a living.

I’m not kidding. What the hell kind of life is that? It was crap like this that I was paid to warn kids against when I was teaching biology and chemistry at Xavier and now they are, quite brazenly, my idols. Eric strips down naked and swims in a frozen lake to save my sister’s dog and magically cameras appear and he doesn’t even die in a death defying heroic act. You can’t make this stuff up. An ordinary person tries to do this nobody sees him drown and everyone is talking about how stupid he was to risk his life for a dog at his funeral because he kept his clothes on and froze like a Eskimo pie. Does anyone else see the irony in all of this? Mr. Coconut Water gets to talk about getting in a “horse stance” and “rapid punching” another day when the average Joe would most certainly be dead.

Okay, I clearly got the photos from TMZ, and so is the link above, but you get the general idea.  I don't really promote TMZ like that, but whatever.  There it is.  If I get enough of a positive response on this Eric stuff I promise to show you video of Eric on the surfboard simulator at the Venice Beach place.  That video is gold, I tell you.  Gold.

You probably already guessed by now that DeMatha won the DC City Title Game last night 55-48 over Ballou Senior High School at the Verizon Center. I went to the game with Maverick and Maven so that they could see how Stags lived, so I won’t go into the details of the game.

The main thing is that DeMatha has won a bunch of these titles. Actually they have won over a score (20) of the prestigious titles claiming high school basketball supremacy over the District of Columbia metropolitan area. By my rudimentary count, I have us at 21 City Titles. That is no small feat, people. You see in order to even win one City Title, you would have to win either the WCAC or DCIAA tournament. Of course, doing well in the tournament would probably be preceded by your doing well during the regular season, too.

In the case of both leagues, sustaining such greatness over such a stretch of time is extremely difficult because we are dealing in the medium of basketball and teenage boys. Now extending this success and stringing it along over a period of years into a dynasty would be almost unimaginable for every team in either league, except for one: DeMatha Catholic High School for Boys. DeMatha is absolutely awesome people. Awesome like finding a freshman the likes of James Robinson to help continue the winning ways. Kudos to Coach of the Year Mike Jones, who has taken on the challenge of polishing this latest rare gem, as well as many others.  The Washington DC metropolitan area has long been a hotbed of basketball greatness.

Every kid that grows up putting a round ball into a round hoop in this town has dreamt of winning the City Title one day. For the majority of those kids it is the longest of long shots, as they have a better chance of making it to the NBA.* Some fall flat in their goal of achieving Chocolate City roundball royalty status and still go on to greater fortunes or as far as that talent could take them. Other kids go to DeMatha and do what the coaches and teachers say and it eventually pops off.

Oh, DeMatha has sent a few kids to the NBA too. I think that DeMatha likes to send  their players along with championships, though. Think of it as a parting gift.

Picture this scene at graduation, sometime in June.

Pan the steps of the Basilica of the National Shrine. Zoom in slowly to caps and gowns in red and blue.

Diplomas are finished being passed out and newly minted alumni are filing out towards Michigan Avenue on the campus of Catholic University.

Random alumnus speaks. “Oh did you get your championship before you left, brother?”

Notre Dame Recruit: “Why yes, I’ve got two in football. Do you need one? I have one to spare.”

DeMatha is out of control. I’ve been saying it for years and so I had to finally start documenting it on this web site for the purpose of posterity. Put quite plain and simply the Stags like winning. In fact, they have a tradition of winning. DeMatha just doesn’t train kids like monkeys to win games for high school glory, people. DeMatha is educating kids at how to succeed in the game of life. "You could play basketball anywhere," as Naji Hibbert once said in an interview. If you wanted to learn mental toughness from some of the best that ever did it then you would have no other choice in that matter than to attend DeMatha. If you don't believe me, click on Naji's link and watch him tell it. Kids want to be challenged and getting their mettle tested is in their long term best interest.

Someone needs to tell Ballou's Chris Mozee, named the most outstanding player with 21 points in the loss, that short term thinking will eventually leave you shorter than his "interview." [Go back up there and click on the longest of long shots, please.] The kids that stick with the DeMatha program and apply the principles are all successes on some level, in some field of human endeavor. Life is not a game. The game of life is a metaphor or hyperbole or some shit like that. If you have to drive two hours a day to go to DeMatha you just shut the fuck up and do it. Don’t worry; momma will get you a car or something if you are doing it like that. Me, personally, I took the bus. I remember getting on the 70 bus and changing at Silver Spring station to the F-4. Another kid’s dad was one of the bus drivers on the way home sometimes.

That’s back when I held it down on Sheridan Street. We’re talking 1989 when the dope boys was making serious paper on the basketball courts and shooting each other. (And I’m from New York, so I meant to say “was.”) Ma’ said that the music program was the best and she wasn’t lying but between taking the bus and walking around in the uniform I saw and heard it all. People from all walks of life would comment on what their DeMatha moment was. A lot of it was about sports, but not all of it. Occasionally, someone would say something like, “I wish I had gone to DeMatha.” Or, “I wish I could have convinced my son to stay at DeMatha. Maybe he would have had the chance to make something of himself.”

Those are the things that always stuck with me whether I was wearing the uniform or it was long after I had put it away, forever. These guys have been getting championships like water from a well because the system is proven and working. Kids are getting all kinds of scholarships, left and right, and studying everything from science, art, politics and religion. Sure there are a lot of other schools that could probably say even better things about their academic achievements but if we’re talking whole person and well roundedness then we are all Stags. Anyway, I could ramble on and on about the Stags. I do it like it’s my job. What that says about me, I may never fully understand.

I do know that the DeMatha Stags kick ass though. They also always look cool holding up the number one for the cameras flashing about as they pose with championship trophies. They do it all the time, people. Nothing to see here… move along. Nothing to see here… keep it moving. As for me, I’m ecstatic that the Stags won another title and I thank God that there are some things that just look right in the world or there is no telling where my sanity would be. When I would go out to sea –in the absence of media hype I would check for the Stags. I’ve checked for the Stags from islands that you’ve never heard of. I’ve been stopped on the street wearing a DeMatha t-shirt in Frederiksted, Rio de Janeiro, Amsterdam, and Madrid.

Anyway, I had to have enough writing to justify all these photos of the Stags.

They really do look cool, you know? I asked Maverick who he thought the best player on the team was and he said, “Number two. [Quinn Cook] He kept getting to the backboard.”  This Maverick kid is 8 years old.  You would think his parents were black geniuses or something with the way he espouses such right knowledge. 

Maven was too busy being mesmerized by the Ballou Senior High School band and dancers to really care. Even though she’ll never be a Stag she still had the good sense to root for them. That little girl is as smart as they come.

The basketball season isn’t over yet for the Stags. Once again, DeMatha has been invited to the prestigious Alhambra Tournament in Cumberland, Maryland. I hope we win it.

* Means that statistics might not actually be factual, but by all practical accounts in my head there is no way that DeMatha represents more than 1% of the total high school basketball population and more than that percentage are eventually selected to the NBA.  Think of it like this: if DeMatha has won 21/49 City Titles offered, and you didn't even go to DeMatha then how the fuck do you expect you are going to win this motherfucking game in your four chances of trying?  Are you sure that your team is even going?  Hungh?

GO STAGS!

On Thursday, March 5^th the DeMatha Stags won the 2009 WCAC championship in basketball 62-61, over rival Gonzaga. A balanced scoring attack and an adequate defensive effort proved to be just enough for the Stags to stifle the Purple Eagles in a tight contest that featured many lead changes down the stretch. Naji Hibbert (11 pts) was the recipient of an outstanding pass from Jerian Grant (10 pts) and he was able to lay it up in the final seconds of the third meeting of the two teams this season. Gonzaga only managed to win their home game against the Stags, and DeMatha celebrated their second win over the Purple Eagles in style: with a championship.

Freshman James Robinson (9 pts) was definitely impressive for DeMatha, almost becoming the fifth player in double figures behind Quinn Cook (13 pts), Victor Oladipo (10 pts), Jerian Grant and Naji Hibbert. Another impressive feat was the fact that this basketball team effectively lost their leading scorer and a consensus All American from its roster when a star junior guard had to be dismissed for disciplinary reasons. The DeMatha Stags persevered under the guidance and leadership of their outstanding coach Mike Jones and didn’t seem to suffer very long from the absence of a proven scoring juggernaut. With their national ranking intact in two meetings against previously ranked Gonzaga, the DeMatha Stags realized their opportunity at making a name for themselves as a championship basketball team.

Everyone down to the role players on this team like Mikael Hopkins (6 pts) and senior Marcus Rouse (3 pts) did their part to make this season a tremendous success. The DeMatha Stags will go on to play in the Washington DC City Title Game versus public school champion Ballou Senior High on Monday, March 9. Of course, I plan on being in attendance to witness, perhaps, a crowning achievement by what has to be the finest coaching job that anyone has witnessed in a while. It is not everyday in which you can plainly see the success of a program fully exposed as when a coach has his players so heavily invested in the system that they are able to stay the course of winning ways despite losing such a highly regarded asset as a leading scorer. This tour de force is only magnified when you consider that this particular previous leading scorer was named one of the top five guards in the country despite being only a junior.

A serious focal point such as Josh Selby could have been enough to derail most teams trying to gather the necessary steam in order to locomotive through the playoffs. The rumors swirled about and lingered for almost two months, right up until the very last game of the regular season and starting in mid-January. Everything from felonious allegations to an early exit to the NBA was discussed on sports forums throughout the country and yet somehow the surprisingly young Stags didn’t drop a game in the month of February. Coach Mike Jones dropped a game against Good Counsel at home after seemingly bouncing back on January 30, and never looked back. Thirteen wins later Coach Mike Jones and the Stags are vindicated in their decision to put the team above any one player. Can there be any doubt that the kings of the WCAC are still playing the game the way it was supposed to be played?

Its pretty hard not to get caught up in just another piece about DeMatha winning another championship because the Stags do it so much, but I want all of you out there to know that there is something to it. Kids that go to DeMatha usually want to win pretty badly before they even get there, but after that they are still subject to superior coaching. Mike Jones is just the latest example in a long list of capable leaders that continually make successes out of our young men on the courts, fields and most importantly, in the class rooms. Out of all of the rankings everywhere, I bet that you won’t find a school more dedicated to producing quality individuals regardless of the sport that is being ranked. And despite all of the undercurrents of foul play, misguided priorities, diploma mills, and racially exploitive tactics that are typical labels associated with the powerhouses on such lists, DeMatha has always risen above while enjoying success. That is the astounding part.

Let’s be completely honest. I had another outstanding weekend. As you may know, from a historical perspective this weekend meant a lot to my family because Lysa decided to move back to Prince & Crosby. (You know the place where Lysa used to team up with Ellen Von Unwerth and have supermodels coming through like, “what?” Well its back on.) I don’t want you to think that she’s leaving Rose Avenue or West 11^th & Bleecker, though. Lysa, in typical Lysa fashion, is going to hold down Venice Beach and the West Village too. My sister isn’t made of money, and we’re all doing our parts to make it work, but after six years it’s going down. My job was to help Lysa move into the brand new old digs that she held down for 14 years, and to stay on at West 11^th and Bleecker with Joel and the Sector 9 crew.

As you can see the guy with the sweetest deal is, once again, me. I could do this in my sleep.  Supervising movers and partying with Joel is what I do, people. Lysa couldn’t have found a better man for the job. So the breakdown is like this now: girls are going to be at Lysa’s place at Prince and Crosby and the boys will hold down the West Village from now on. (I know –big surprise.) Lysa & Tori together with Fresh Clean Media (Shelby), versus Joel & I together with Sector 9 (EG) is how its popping off. The rotation is New York City, Los Angeles, and Oahu. Maui, San Diego and Washington DC are added by default. Obviously franchising your icon status and aligning yourself with a profitable corporate sponsorship has a lot to do with making something like this happen.

2009 is really getting hype these days because there seems to be a lot of big plans in the works. I have no idea what Lysa has up her sleeve for NoLIta / SoHo but I know that the West Ville is going to be all about boards. Kookbox Surfboards is in full effect and I’ll be blogging them from The Purple Room in exchange for free reign and holding it down. This time Joel is determined to do this surfboard company right, so we’re keeping everything in-house and tightly circled. The idea is to have multiple cities to launch urban surf culture. Most people don’t think of surfing as an urban sport but Kookbox is out to change all of that. When I tell you that it is about to jump off, it is really about to jump off, so you better start getting your psyche prepared. The talent level of this crew is so thorough; I do not believe that it will fail.

So with most of the pieces coming together this past weekend we did what any other thorough crew would have done in New York City. We partied. Or rather, I should say, that Lysa made us all help in the move and then after we put her house together somewhat, we partied. When I first got there, I saw The Purple Room in a state of boxes and Danny Fuller was watching American Gangster on the long purple couch while Tori was in the bedroom. I couldn’t believe that all Lysa’s stuff was ready to be carted away the next day when the movers arrived, or that I would be willing to do it. By the time that Joel and Lysa arrived back to the killer pad on Friday night it was 11 PM and I was drinking Glenfiddich scotch rather heavily. Not long after, Lysa went to one of her girlfriend’s houses and Tori went out with her friends. Joel was talking about hitting up Goldbar, so we bounced and left Danny Fuller there by himself to his own devices.

Joel and I kicked it at Goldbar and sipped free whiskey courtesy of the crew that did the photo shoot of him earlier that day. It was a really good look for a little while, but it was a little crowded so we went to Beatrice. Beatrice really wasn’t much better on what was now early Saturday morning so we went back to The Purple Room and passed out. When I woke up the moving almost started immediately. On no food, fresh off the Blackberry, I commenced to hauling boxes down five flights of steps. Sometimes I really believe that I am super human. The only reason why I know that I’m not is because I almost passed out and had to eat a bacon cheeseburger at The Savoy restaurant, downstairs, in order to complete the job. I also ordered three Little Frankie’s pizzas and shared it with Danny and Tori so they could see how good the variety of New York’s exceptional pizza really was.

I think that they got the hint. My buddy from DeMatha and The Six of Us photo, Joseph Polowczuk also surprised me by coming through shortly thereafter and helped us out a little with his girlfriend Christine. (Incidentally, Joe also helped Lysa in the move from that very same place to L.A. six years earlier, so there was a little bit of a full-circle thing happening.) People flowed in and out of the house like the old days and it brought back memories from when Loosie would roam and Belinda & Willow were afoot. The nostalgia of it all had me choking back the tears and it might have even distracted us from realizing that the move wasn’t going as well as it could have. We weren’t able to get the table in through the window like last time, and it also precluded getting the couch in, but we still wound up partying afterwards. Danny, Tori, Joel and I walked on down to La Esquina for some tacos and even took some pictures for our homeboy who couldn't be there.  I don’t know where we found the energy to go to Goldbar and Beatrice again, but that is exactly what happened.

Sunday, I was on chill. The east coast was anticipating a snow storm and I was already thinking about my responsibilities for the week. Joel and I went to Frank’s Chop Shop and got haircuts before walking to Bread for brunch, and then to Lysa & Tori’s to hold it down. This turned out to be a great plan. I think that I put together a shower organizer or something but to be completely truthful, my memory is a little hazy. I remember buying a bottle of Glen Livet scotch so I could have one over there and that might have contributed to my foggy state of mind. Jah Rib came over and started to discuss his next level plans to do even more Bob Marley surfboards with Joel and to take even more photographs. He also showed a sick video of Joel surfing in Jamaica that was internet ready. Danny Fuller almost topped that by pushing his upcoming photo exhibit downtown (April 2) and for signing with RVCA. Joel took the prize, however, when he said that he was in talks with Dante Ross to do something really spectacular.

I can’t exactly say what it is yet, but let’s just say that A&E is involved, and that it will change the face of the surfing game for a long time to come. I alluded to it in an earlier paragraph when I started talking about capitalizing on iconography. Anyway, all in all, it was a fabulous weekend not because of what we actually did but for the groundwork that was laid. Any good builder knows that it takes a strong foundation in order to hold up a monument that can withstand the test of time. I believe that the crew is coming together in just such an organization. Hip-hop, fashion, surfing, writing, photography, clubbing, skating, judo, jiu-jitsu all go together like we do. March is certainly coming in like a lion. The snow started to blanket New York City right after the sun went down on Sunday but I still went out to dinner anyway.

Afterwards, I went home to pack up the clothes that I never changed into because I decided to leave most of the stuff there, instead. I took a shower and put on my work clothes for the next day and headed to Penn Station to catch the train that would put me slightly ahead of the impending storm and back to Washington DC in time for a full day’s work. When I arrived in Union Station on Monday morning, the first thing that I did was to check to see if DeMatha had done their part of reaching the WCAC Tournament finals, and the Stags didn’t disappoint. It will be DeMatha versus Gonzaga in the finals at American University, on Thursday. (DeMatha and Gonzaga split during the regular season and the Stags beat the Purple Eagles and Saint Johns to close out the season in case you’ve been under a rock.) Of course, I’m going to the game, but I have to weave my way through a treacherous work week full of meetings and proposals. I haven’t decided yet, if I should go back to NYC this weekend for more fun or not. What do you think that I should do? Who do you think is going to win the WCAC championship in basketball in 2009?

“Remember, man, that thou art dust; and to dust thou shall return.”

Today is Fat Tuesday. I know that most of you don’t even know what I’m talking about because you aren’t Catholic or from the South. Maybe you’ve never been to New Orleans and had jambalaya, red beans, and shrimp etouffee? What about hot sausage? Does Mardi Gras ring a bell? Well that is exactly what Fat Tuesday means in French.

I celebrated last night by going to see Mos Def at the 9:30 club. I can’t say that the show was all that awesome because Mos Def got there all late and claimed that his flight was delayed. I don’t know about the rest of you, given this sucking economy, but I have a really good job and I’m not trying to lose it. Hanging out on a Monday night is not something that a prudent working man would normally do, but I channeled my inner New York City teacher days and powered through. I made it to work, too, just like old times.

The opening act, Hezekiah, wants you know that his new album “I Predict a Riot” will be in stores soon. Hezekiah sounded a lot like Mos Def, and he had a few songs that I must have heard somewhere on the radio. On a scale from one to  ten, I’m going to have to give the whole shebang a six. The doors opened at 6:30 and despite having a ticket, I had to wait in the bitter cold with my date before getting in. The line was stretched around the corner just to let you know how much I love Mos Def –but his rating still had to suffer. His new music didn’t sound all that great either, even though it started fast.

I happen to know Mos Def, personally, and I really should have taken the time to pull the necessary strings in order to not wait in that line with the rabble but I didn’t take the initiative. I was too busy playing it cool, literally, riding on a skateboard to meet a girl in a car to ask Lysa for his number. I was also trying to get an interview for a piece that I was working for that would have probably ended up on this site, but the show ran so late that I had to bounce. My real job requires me to be well-rested and energetic early in the morning so the shameless namedropping will have to suffice in lieu of the absence of substantive journalism. Don’t you love guys that are always like, “I know Dante, I know Dante?” Well, I make it happen, baby. I can claim bomb as much as I want.  (Thanks Joel & Maya for the new nomenclature.)  ((Oh, look more claim bombing!))

So yeah, back to the Fat Tuesday, while Obama is talking to Congress tonight I’ll be dining on fine Creole cuisine at Arcadiana. I’m so desperate for New Orleans right now. I know that the city, itself, will never be the same again and most of friends that are from there no longer live there. The utter devastation that hurricane Katrina caused to the city was far deeper than merely the cosmetic. Quietly, Obama need to rectify that. I know that they’re still holding Mardi Gras down there and eating King cake and such but without the history of the people down there you are bound to lose elements of flavor.

The oldest Mardi Gras celebration in the United States happens to be in Mobile, Alabama anyway. I love Southern cuisine just as much as the next country boy, but Alabama doesn’t have anything on Louisiana, you dig? Does anyone have any suggestions on what I should give up for Lent? As it stands now, I’m giving up being an asshole.  I guess I could give up claim bombing, but that might be too unrealistic. 

"Winning is fun and can cause you to bragga

But whatever you do -- please beat Gonzaga." -from TP

The DeMatha Stags have their work cut out for them this weekend. The basketball team has been rolling of late, and hasn’t lost in the month of February. They are fresh off a nationally televised double-digit road win over Bishop O’Connell and will play the remaining two games of the regular season at home. If the Stags can manage to win against the current WCAC first placed Gonzaga on Friday night then they will be a lock for a top seed in the playoffs next weekend. Saint Johns plays at DeMatha on Monday for the final home game of the season, but everybody knows that DeMatha is focused on knocking down the defending champion Purple Eagles rather than the Cadets who have been struggling.

So far the Saint Johns Cadets have been the latest victim in a top-heavy conference that has had five teams in the national rankings: DeMatha (currently #14), Gonzaga (currently #13), McNamara (ranked as high as #20 at one point in the season), Bishop O’Connell (ranked as high as #25 at the beginning of the season), and Paul VI (ranked as high as #17). Surprisingly, Good Counsel is the dark horse in the league and the Falcons managed to upset DeMatha at home earlier in the season despite not ever achieving a national ranking. Not so surprisingly Archbishop Carroll, Saint Mary’s Ryken and Bishop Ireton are all in the cellar of the league this year.

The pressure is mounting in the WCAC, and while DeMatha had the initiative early, Gonzaga effectively wrested control when they were able to take advantage of their home court on January 21^st. Of course, I’m going to be forced to go to the DeMatha home game early February 20^th to exact some birthday revenge while watching the freshman, junior varsity and varsity starting at 4PM. The DeMatha basketball teams aren’t the only ones about to have a showdown with the Purple Eagles, though. I’ll let our development director tell that story and explain a little more about our apparent rivalry. Peep the block quote below:

The varsity hockey team beat Gonzaga yesterday in the playoffs.  The varsity basketball team will host Gonzaga tomorrow night in a big WCAC game.  The swim team will compete against Gonzaga (and a host of other schools) in Saturday's Metros competition.

We bring this up in that it should be obvious to most that, while DeMatha has had many adversaries over the years, Gonzaga has become our biggest rival in virtually every sport.  Of course, we say this having endured the ignominy of The Purple Eagles being placed ahead of us in last year's Sports Illustrated rankings of athletic departments.  We understand how rankings are designed to sell copy and are folly, but Gonzaga? Ahead of us? The horror. The horror.  Say it ain't so Joe (Kozik).

The truth of the matter is that having rival schools, all in the proper context, can be fun.  "As long as things are not taken to extremes, rivalries can be wonderful for fans, players, and alums," said Dr. Daniel McMahon, principal.  "Rivalries affirm what you have in common.  Therefore, the game or contest is what then is used as a measure to distance one school from the other."

If anyone understood firsthand the Gonzaga-DeMatha rivalry and the ethos of both all-male institutions, it would be Dr. McMahon, as he and brother Tim (DM '78) are pitted against their two young brothers, Chris and Greg, who happen to be Gonzaga grads.  In fact, Chris McMahon is in the Gonzaga Hall of Fame.  A picture of Tim and Chris McMahon, wearing the football jerseys of their respective schools -- and sharing the same number -- can be viewed here.

It was also Dr. McMahon, who, in a meeting with Maryland Governor Martin O'Malley (a Gonzaga alum, we have to admit), presented the Governor with a DeMatha tie and reminded him that, as Governor of Maryland, he had no choice but to support the schools in his own state.  O'Malley, being the true politician, nodded, but we know where his loyalties lie.  In fact, when his band performed at DeMatha a few years ago, we just had to present then (Baltimore) Mayor O'Malley with a DeMatha t-shirt, which he promptly used to wipe the sweat off of his brow.  At the end of the night (10 pm), he then teased us for shutting down so soon saying that real Gonzaga men would never turn in so early. Of course, we would have had to pay him and his band mates more for overtime but that's another story.

Perhaps the most famous incident between the two schools took place in November 2003 when DeMatha and Gonzaga were to play for the football championship at Byrd Stadium.  It seems that a few Gonzaga students left a dead deer at the front door of DeMatha as (we can only guess) a sign of what was going to happen later that day. While that prank obviously was misguided, the DeMatha students used it to their advantage that night as a mock coffin was carried out on the field and the school's mascot, "Buck the Stag" (a student in a deer outfit), busted out of the coffin to the thunderous roar of the DeMatha faithful.

Of course, the hallmark of the rivalry is the give and take between the student sections at various games.  Again, while some of these chants can be off base, there have been some classic exchanges down through the years.  In the first year Mike Jones was the head coach of the DeMatha varsity basketball team, the Gonzaga student section began this cheer during a game:

"WHERE IS MORGAN? WHERE IS MORGAN? WHERE IS MORGAN?"

To which our students countered, "HALL OF FAME, HALL OF FAME, HALL OF FAME."

Of course, the Swampoodle partisans have also had to remind us that 'God is Purple' -- a popular sign at Gonzaga games down through the years.  The DeMatha response?  'So is Barney!'  And so it goes.

Without question, Gonzaga's greatest gift to DeMatha may have been Ray Smith, the Eye Street '54 grad, who worked at DeMatha for what could only be characterized as 35 semi-odd years.  "Raybo" or "The Little General" was known for his loud shirts, booming voice, and ability to throw unsuspecting miscreants out of the window of his first floor class.  Oh yeah, he taught Algebra and coached golf somewhere along the way too.

In all seriousness, we should point out that over the years the schools have worked together for greater purposes.  One year the two faculties came together for a one-day retreat; Gonzaga benefactors heavily supported the Tim Strachan/DeMatha Gala in 1994; recently, Matt Krimm '88 has held a huge DC benefit each year for a Scholarship Fund at Gonzaga in the memory of his friend Erik Kristenson, a Gonzaga grad and US Navy Seal who died in Afghanistan.  The benefit also supports a DeMatha Scholarship Fund in honor of Pat Krimm, Matt's father, a Vietnam Veteran who started our school's hockey program. Not surprisingly, both Strachan and Matt Krimm will be "in the house" for tomorrow night's Gonzaga game.

So we conclude with the story of a new book written by a Gonzaga alum, "In The Eyes of History:  Gonzaga College & The Lincoln Assassination": It seems the book finds a way to connect Gonzaga grads with virtually the dawn of Man as well as the invention of liquid soap.  However, specifically, the book traces several Gonzaga "people" to those who killed the man generally recognized as our greatest president, Abraham Lincoln.  So, I ask, tomorrow night, should our students chant --

"LINCOLN'S REVENGE! FOR HONEST ABE!"

Okay, probably not.  But I do think this new book's revelation does make me understand one thing quite clearly -- now we know why so many DeMatha grads are Secret Service Agents.

Go Stags!  Beat Gonzaga!

TP

I know that I've been rather lazy in posting about basketball this year and I didn't want you guys to think that I didn't care.  The reality is that with every team playing twice in the season, it is an arduous task to keep track of it every week.  I hope that you've been following along at DC Sports Fan because it would be like a full time gig to keep up with all the twists and turns.  I do know that DeMatha (23-3)has only three losses, two of which have come at the hands of a nationally ranked opponent.  The best I can do is put up the rankings before the conference tournament starts next weekend...  Yeah, so I can’t get any more in depth than Tom Ponton, right now. You heard the man: Don’t let your kids grow up to be people that would harbor the likes of John Wilkes Booth.

Pray for the quick recovery of DeMatha British Literature instructor Dr. Charles "Buck" Offutt who suffered a stroke last week after over 50 years of service.

Beat Gonzaga!

GO STAGS!

More about my friend, Coley.

Coleman Mellett – an accomplished jazz guitarist, Mellett was a touring member of trumpeter Chuck Mangione's band for the last several years. The group was scheduled to perform this past Friday night at the Kleinhans Music Hall with the Buffalo Philharmonic.

Mellett who friends referred to as "Coley", grew up near Washington, D.C. and graduated from DeMatha Catholic High School in 1992. He moved to New Jersey to study at William Paterson University. After graduating he moved to New York and earned a master's degree at the Manhattan School of Music in 1998. Mellett, 33, lived in East Brunswick, N.J., with his wife, singer Jeanie Bryson –the daughter of famed jazz musician Dizzy Gillespie.  DeMatha Catholic High School band director, John Mitchell tells 9 News Now, "he had a passion for what he was doing. He did all the right things. He took lessons. He practiced a lot, listened to all the great guitar players at the time and was just one of those people that was a joy to teach."

Speaking of our time with Mr. Mitchell, I happened across a video of the DeMatha Wind Ensemble performing a piece that Coley and I played together when we were students there.  It made me a little nostalgic and I remembered the time when Coley was the premier musician in that storied program.  Coleman won recognition for all of his achievements in music at DeMatha after he received the John Phillip Sousa award in our senior year.  Instead of using his award as a personal platform though, Coley urged five other section leaders in the band to deliver the addresses before the major performances.  Of course, I was one of those five other students, but I can't stress this enough as an example of the kind of person Coleman was.  Coleman Mellett was insatiably interested in spreading success.

For Coleman, it wasn't enough just to achieve greatness in music.  He was clearly destined for all of that at an early age.  His proficiency on the clarinet was equal to his business acumen and he set the wheels in motion to motivate the entire Wind Ensemble to be the absolute best that we could have been.  It was not really a surprise when DeMatha was voted the best concert band in the country for the 11th time in 13 years our senior year.  (The organizers of the national competition have since asked DeMatha to stop competing in order to give other schools a chance to win.)  What was a surprise was the fact that our best musician wasn't a self-serving, egotistical bastard.  I know musicians pretty well, and let's just say that the man was a rare breed of extraordinary talent and humility. 

Somewhere close to the end of our junior year in 1991 Coleman took the reigns from within the bourgeoning music program of DeMatha and subtly began to exert the influence of an heir apparent.  Slowly, Coleman assembled a core group of senior section leaders to maintain the focus and ultimately unite the band.  We called ourselves The Six of Us.  Bottom row: Sean Cawley, french horn section leader; Daniel Cooper, tuba section leader; Frank Pesci, tenor saxophone section leader.  Top row: Chad Bickel, trumpet section leader; Coleman Mellett, clarinet section leader; Joe Polowczuk, alto saxophone section leader.  Out of all of my musical selections, including being named to a first chair at All State or playing with the Prince Georges Philharmonic, I would still have to say that it was more important for me to have Coley's trust and confidence to be included in that elite of the elites group. 

With one decision made by one of my own peers, I enjoyed the buoyed self-esteem that has propelled me to this day.  (Contrary to popular belief, the DeMatha swagger that some mistake for arrogance can take a little while to set in.)  Before all of that, I believe I was holding myself back because I thought that my best wasn't good enough.  I think that each of The Six of Us toyed with the idea of making a career out of music if only because we were so thoroughly engrossed in upholding the DeMatha standard.  Coleman was the only one to actually follow through with that from our class, however, and that is not to say that music was his only option.  Coleman was a talented student, to the point where I would have many conversations with him about why he chose to take such hard courses.  I couldn't understand in my youth why someone so talented and so sure of his chosen profession would volunteer to take Calculus with Mr. Coughlin.  We suffered through it together, though.  That was Coley: his success was not only transferable, but it was commutative. 

The Mellett family is holding a memorial service for Coley on March 7, 2009 at St. Peter’s Catholic Church on Capitol Hill located at 313 Second Street, SE Washington, DC 202.547.1430.  Service will begin at 11:00am EST and will be followed by a reception downstairs at the church.

The Mellett family has set up a Scholarship Fund at DeMatha in Coley's name for aspiring jazz musicians.  To give, make a check payable to DeMatha and mail to Mellett Scholarship Fund c/0 DeMatha HS  4313 Madison Street Hyattsville, MD  20781.

Pictured above is Coleman Mellett and his wife, Jeanie about ten years ago.  I went to high school with Coley, and we both graduated in the DeMatha class of 1992.  I called him Coleman "the soul-man" because he opened my eyes to the fact that it was indeed possible to be a superior jazz musician and be white.  Never mind that there were already tons of white jazz musicians that I could have been exposed to, and Coley mentioned them all.  The fact was, that Coley was there in the flesh for me, and he opened up his home when he could have easily dismissed my ignorance.  DeMatha was that kind of place, but Coley was still special.

Coleman Mellett died in a tragic plane crash that killed everyone aboard late last night when he was headed to Buffalo to play a gig.  Coleman was an outstanding guitarist that played with the Radio City Music Hall orchestra, and an equally accomplished clarinet player.  I'm going to miss Coleman for his honesty and for his humor.  You could always count on Coley to give an honest answer and also to cheer you up with a joke after breaking your heart.  My prayers are for his family right now, because I know that Coley is in a better place.  My guess is that he's jamming out with the best of the best and holding his own.  Rest in peace, good friend.  Never in a million years did I think that you would depart this world so soon or else I would have held you tighter.

Coleman is survived by his wife Jeanie, his brother Zebulon, and his sister Brady.

They say that Nero fiddled while Rome burned and George W. Bush read My Pet Goat to schoolchildren as the single most calamitous terrorist, or otherwise, event occurred on U.S. soil. Only the mad emperor Nero was likely playing a lute, and New York City and New Orleans could both certainly duke it out as the limits of presidential ineptitude. Otherwise I think that the analogy kind of works.

The fall of the World Trade Center and one wing of the Pentagon could all be disastrous in and of themselves. The fact that they both occurred on the same day among other attacks shows the cunning of a committed, organized enemy. Hurricane Katrina, or rather George W. Bush’s lack of response to it, revealed a slothful callous side to a man that was generally regarded as brash dullard. The 43^rd President proved impetuous after the events of September 11, 2001 and he literally wasted no time in squandering billions of dollars in resources in order to exact revenge by launching The War in Afghanistan and the subsequent Second Gulf War, and Occupation of Iraq, on October 7^th of the same year.

Those of us that knew the type of man George W. Bush was knew that he would lump them all together in one great mess. The election thief that he was, he also had a penchant for jumbling things up like the words and phrases he often mixed in official public speaking engagements. As a politician, however, he was unequalled in his almost innate ability to deceive people into believing that he actually stood for something, anything that they might share in common. What most people didn’t know was that George W. Bush really didn’t have much of a plan beyond holding on to power after his election. The sheep of America elected him again to make certain of his incompetence in 2003, and he didn’t disappoint.

By the time that Katrina made landfall in New Orleans on August 29, 2005 even the sheep were certain that they were witnessing new levels of uselessness in their shepherd. Up until this point, historically speaking, United States presidents would be most proud of acquiring territories and protecting citizens from harm and here was George W., the only man to lose a city and thousands of inhabitants. At long last the jig was finally up on George the younger and it became apparent that his lack of ability ran rampant in other areas as well. The economy began to unravel from his wanton deregulation after the housing bubble burst. Both parties refused to cooperate with Bush in his waning days, a special brand of bipartisan vitriol infected the government, and even a journalist threw two shoes at him at a press conference.

Enter a brand new day and President Barack Obama. With less than month in office he has quite a job on his hands, thanks to George W. Bush, who incidentally, believes that history will vindicate him. I, for one, don’t think that this could possibly be the case because I was really trying to look for any long lasting silver lining in the cloud over his presidency and I couldn’t find any. The only thing that he managed to do was to royally screw things up. Maybe it will turn out that Bush is that dark nadir before Obama’s light? Only time will tell the story, but if the newspapers write the first draft of history then blogs are the new outlines.

As for the U.S. economy, I don't think that there will be a quick fix for President Obama.  As it stands right now, there are too many new unemployment claims and even reputable companies are reporting significant losses.  President Obama has made terrific strides in his first week in office by chastising those banking companies that still paid record bonuses despite the fact that they received monies from a government bailout.

Such shameful behavior is something that Americans have become all too insensitive towards under the regime of George W. Bush.  Of course, after eight years of a dysfunctional regulation system for banks it will take a considerable amount of time to reverse these negative effects.  I hope that it will not take years, but rather months before we can truly be optimistic about our economy again. I have no idea how President Obama plans to go tinker with the minutia but his campaign did outline clues to his larger, overall plan.

One of the biggest boosts to the economy will take place after President Obama stops wastefully spending for combat troops in Iraq.  The war in Iraq was a major debacle created by George W. Bush and it has been a tremendous strain on our military as well as a drain to our financial standing.  George W. Bush previously, and incorrectly I might add, estimated that revenues could be generated from an invasion in Iraq through the sale of oil.  A reduction in force in that region will greatly impact our ability to become financially responsible again as well as rest our overworked combat troops currently stationed there.

When George W. Bush took office, he inherited a fiscally responsible government that was actually functioning at a surplus from the William Clinton administration, the 42^nd President of the United States.  Now, eight years later, President Obama has inherited a highly partisan government with the biggest deficit that the United States has ever seen.  Of course the details are all pretty complex and cannot be expressed to the fullest in this simple article but I believe that you can get the general idea that Obama isn’t exactly set up for “no crystal stair.” So far, though, President Barack seems to be suited for the task and I have every confidence in him to turn us around. The optimism is truly infectious, and I am told that not since Kennedy did the nation seem to rally around an individual in such a way in order to help change the perception of Americans around the world.

The beautiful irony of it all, of course, is that President Barack Obama is a black man. Should he succeed, once again, America will have to acknowledge the fact that this grand experiment in democracy and liberty would not have been possible were it not for the contribution of those that it had formerly cast aside as undesirable. George W. Bush, the favored son of the 41^st President, a man of great privilege will finally be exposed as a bright and shining lie. The underlying current of white supremacist racism may finally begin to be swept away from the world and King might realize the broadening of his dream as the tide turns in the favor of a more perfect humanity. And speaking of a more perfect humanity, I bring you a black man on United States legal tender. Above is the approved design of the District of Columbia issued quarter featuring legendary musician Duke Ellington.  Check it.

The following critique is based on “Ed-Ucation” On the album Chronic 2001, by Dr. Dre featuring Eddie Griffin, and block quoted below.  If you can't handle the language of this serious discussion, then now is the time to avert your eyes.

Aw, they say uh… a Black Man is a pimp. Well let me tell you the biggest pimp on planet motherfuckin’ Earth, is her momma. It's her momma that told her, "Get a man that got a good job girl! Make sure he got a good car girl! Make sure he can take you out and buy you somethin’ to eat, girl!" What happened to just fallin’ in love with a nigga with a bus pass –just cause you loved a nigga?

But I'm the pimp motherfucker! I gotta be the player!

Biggest hoes, on planet Earth are walkin’ through the motherfuckin’ neighborhood!

You knew when you got with the nigga he already had a woman. You knew he already had a family but you fucked him anyway!!! And then when you thought you was gon' lose the nigga, you went and got pregnant –didn’t you bitch, didn’t you?!

The ole’-keep-a-nigga-baby!

And then when the nigga ain't around, what do you tell the child? "Aww that nigga ain't shit, that's why yo' daddy ain't here; cause that nigga ain't shit."

How ‘bout being a woman, and tellin’ the kid the truth, that: yo' momma, you was a hoe?

Tell the kid! "Momma was a hoe, I was weekend pussy. I had you to keep the nigga, it didn't work out, that's why he ain't here –but he a good nigga ‘cause he take care of his REAL family. I was just a dumb bitch, tryin’ to keep, a nigga that I wanted."

 

Let us take the time to reflect on what comedian Eddie Griffin had to say about the current state of the dysfunctional Black family in his epic piece on the even more epic record, Chronic 2001 by Dr. Dre: Wow. Where do I begin?

Eddie begins his tirade by explaining that the complexity of the Black Family can be traced to the instructions that little girls get from their black mothers. While there is some inherent truth to the matter that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world, I believe that Eddie Griffin also negates the instructions that little boys might be receiving. Surely, all little black boys can’t be orphans in this cycle of detrimental instruction?

The materialism that Eddie Griffin rails against is put in stark opposition to love, and also the construct of marriage for socio-economic gain. Such a wide-spread model would lend itself more readily to such criticisms if it were not for the fact that it is not somewhat rooted in natural law and Darwinian thought. I wonder if Eddie Griffin would agree that the stereotypical selection criteria for black males (fat ass, big breasts, and cute face) are somehow above the base characterization that he posits for black females.

Eddie Griffin doesn’t waste any time explaining that love, being the expressed ideal, is hardly a consideration if one were to affirm the stereotypes of either sex. Instead Griffin is willing to make the leap that black males have such a need to defend themselves from such a vicious mother-daughter conspiracy that the only solution is to embrace pandering. The degradation of the black female is complete when Eddie acknowledges that prostitution is rampant and that the associated loose moral code is responsible for high single parent birth rates.

Paradoxically, even Eddie Griffin purports that the black female moral code is so corrupt that it only allows for the prospective gain for the otherwise unwanted pregnancy. In his speech, only women that have realized that they are still unlikely to garner the favor of siring males for having their children are able to realize that errors were made. The root of these mixed emotions can be traced back to the times of chattel slavery in the United States where the emasculation of the black male was utterly complete as he was powerless to stop the capitulation of his family at the hands of a white master.

On the one hand, having a child should be the most significant moments of parents’ lives regardless of the potential for upward mobility as a result. On the other hand, Griffin reinforces the concept that such lofty ideals such as fidelity are often ignored in the black community in lieu of petty materialism. (In hip-hop terminology, this is the "jump-off," in recent vernacular the nomenclature groupie suffices.)  Perhaps the general idea that the construct of marriage was created to better provide for offspring due to the fact that it has the tendency to promote a cohesive family units is under attack?

Griffin boils it down in crass terms as “the-old-keep-a-nigga-baby” scheme in which loose women will have a child for anyone that they believe could be a gateway to a better life for themselves. While such craft and guile could apply to virtually any race and any point in time of history, it is most damaging right now in the black community given the astronomical single parent rates and given the trifling number of black males heading households. This stark reality is the biggest clue that Griffin is engaging in rhetorical satire. The suspension of disbelief must be applied and suddenly the double standard is blurred.

If only it were true that so many black males had enough to offer that would warrant their women the incentive to ensnare them, but this isn’t reflected in reality. In today’s society black women are outnumbering black males in the key, usually economically indicative, statistic of college admissions. Couple this with the fact that a black male as a “pimp” or “player” is decidedly undesirable for a myriad of reasons and that they often have little to do with financial gain for the females and you can see the losing battle black women are facing. Griffin reconciles this fact by assigning the blame back on women, tongue in cheek, by stating that most black men are likely to take care of their “real” families when this is obviously not the case. Such mythical families never seem to materialize in the lyrics of hip-hop or otherwise in the recent oral tradition of black diaspora. 

Now I know that this song came out in the year 2000 and here I am writing about it and discussing it a full nine years later, but you need to understand that this all comes from a place of great historical reference. Both the Chronic albums by Dr. Dre were explosive in the rap scene and influential to millions of black people, not to mention groundbreaking works. The problems of the black community cannot be solved overnight but some would argue that hip hop hasn't done enough to exonerate itself as a sole source evil in the corruption of our youth. This masterpiece is a recent shining example of uplift. Eddie Griffin did an outstanding job of drawing attention to the ills of the black community while also providing quality entertainment. To borrow a word from hip-hop icon and pioneer, KRS-One, this work is a very strong piece of edutainment. I don’t believe for a second that Griffin, a comedian, wants you to take his words seriously and as gospel.

I believe that Griffin’s genius is evident in the fact that he has it on one of the most classic hip-hop albums of all time, over beats that are deliciously funky, pumped right into the ears of the people that probably need to hear it the most. The Signifying Monkey is ever ready to draw attention to societal ills and personal deficiencies, and much like the old Negro fable, Griffin is safe in his tree of black pop culture and flinging shit. Some people may say that the whole entirety of Griffin’s exposure is airing dirty laundry but when you have even higher profile comedians accused of enacting similar or worse offenses in real life, who is to say that it wouldn’t be aired anyway?

President Barack Obama is going to be all over this topic, though.  I fully expect him to address it in the first year of his first term.  And to whoever said that learning and entertainment couldn't be married, isn't very smart.  Why else do you think that I have bombarded you with pictures of pretty women all over my web site?  (Don't get mad, but we're doing a mixed bag today.)  The racist folks used to say that if you wanted to hide something from a nigger, all you had to do was to put it in a book... 

Man, it's a damn shame but I laugh to keep from crying.  Would you like a thin mint?

The Root Inaugural Ball

I suppose now is a good time for me to try and recap my whirlwind inaugural week. Of course the balls preceding the actual events were lots of fun but the highlight had to be seeing Barack and Michelle Obama on the cover of the Washington Post on my 35^th birthday. What better present could a brother ask for? A black man is the most powerful man in the free world. Say word!

One of the flossiest events that I went to was The Root Inaugural Ball.  There were more celebrities there trying to impress the print media than there was actual print media. This was by far the most telling event that I attended because it drove home the point that if that a tree falls in the woods and nobody hears it, did it really make a sound? Newsmen in the political process therefore dominated my focus. I am an extremely big fan of people that read the newspaper and check everyday for their favorite columnists. I can usually be found in the comment section of the Washington Post and I couldn’t imagine being with someone that didn’t read a newspaper regularly.

All of the boys had a really good time.  I had to rock the velvet Sean John on them, though.

Eugene Robinson is one of those guys that I typically read. As far as his opinions go, we don’t always agree but I believe that he is a voice for the sort of people that I pay attention to. Namely, Eugene Robinson represents the demographic that I like to call: black-folks-that-have-some-sense. I’m talking not just talking about the Black Bourgeoisie, again or the groups most likely associated with the Talented Tenth. I’m talking about black people from a diverse socio-economic stratum that are not overly influenced by the negative stereotypes or mentally disenfranchised. If you want to have your finger on the pulse of what black people could be thinking about a variety of subjects, you should really check him out.

The Root Inaugural Ball was that rare mixture of celebrities with public intellectual figures and print news. Dr. Henry Louis “Skip” Gates is the co-founder of the online magazine and enterprise known as The Root. Gates has broken new ground in relation to minorities in the media by introducing a web site that focuses on genealogy issues specific to our community. The Root also offers a venue from which the world renown Harvard professor can push a responsibly agenda as he chairs the W.E.B. DuBois Institute for African and African American Research. As both an educator and a writer of great importance, Dr. Gates has been a lion of our time.

Dr. Gates is also one of my good friend’s supervisors as she is one of the editors of The Root: Natalie Hopkinson, of course, holds it down in her own right as an author and is Rudy’s wife. I would be really remiss if I didn’t thank her for all that she has done for my own writing career as well as providing for admittance into such great events.

Now, on to the foolishness: once again I had to engage in paparazzi status because none of you people believe stuff without seeing it. I got a chance to take pictures with a few celebrities but I really saw a whole lot more. Oprah Winfrey came through, as well as Spike Lee. I didn’t get to talk to either of them, however. I don’t think that I was on their list of people to talk to, although I did see both of them. I actually tried to speak Spike Lee, but he wasn’t really feeling me I guess. Oprah was too busy being Oprah, and she was mobbed by every woman on the set trying to get their picture moment. It was at this point that I headed for Samuel Jackson.

True story about Samuel: seconds before my picture was taken next to him a white lady and professional photographer walked up to him and said, “Danny I’m a fan of your work.”

Samuel Jackson looked her dead in the eye and said, “I’m not Danny Glover.”

I took this as my cue to chime in with, “I’m Danny.” I think that Samuel Jackson got a kick out of that because of the inference that if we all look alike the names shouldn’t matter much either. Anyway it got me a picture next to a screen legend and I didn’t even have to use one of my “motherfucker” jokes do it. I was really proud of myself for that moment.

Another proud moment came with actor Jamie Hector of the acclaimed series The Wire remembered meeting me at Penn Station three years ago. I guess he was really serious about building a house and when I told him that I was an engineer so long ago, it made quite and impression on him. Of course, when I told my sister this, she was immediately like “I know him:” Which is Lysa-speak for I know him better than you. No worries, I was just happy to be there.

Chris Tucker was getting interviewed by some kid. I thought it was cute and I took a picture. I was really feeling the 360 degree, dope boy, waves that Chris Tucker was rocking. I wish my hair did that, but it doesn’t. I think that Nigerian hair is probably the most unruly hair on the planet, though. I bet that Chris Tucker couldn’t get his hair to bead with a few drops of water and a verbal command. There is a positive in everything if you look hard enough, I suppose. I could be a Rastafarian any time I wanted to be. I could rob a bank with an afro and go into a bathroom and have dreads as a disguise in the space of thirty seconds.

Anyway, because there are so many Howard University folks in mainstream print media, this affair turned into a quiet Bison Ball.  Aside from Natalie, Ta-Nehisi Coates was there and so were half of the political science majors that came through in our era.  Man, there were a lot of Howard lawyers in that place!  These days, none of them want me to call them out so I don't say anything.  I just take their pictures and their cards in case I finally get busted for urinating in public.  To have so many lawyers and stuffy media-types in the building all at once it sure didn't stop folks from getting down to DJ Biz Markie, though.  I'm sure that this was the first official inaugural ball in the United States, or any other legitimate country for that matter, that ever featured a hip hop pioneer.  Now, how fresh is that?

Well much ado was made about the whole affair on CNN and apparently on Larry King. I had friend call me all the way from Tortola in the British Virgin Islands and he told me that he saw me on television. The whole thing doesn’t surprise me because another Howard friend, AJ Calloway, was covering the event for Extra. Not long after we dapped the camera mysteriously panned in my direction for the coveted background shot. I must have been on television for two minutes, just standing there, trying to make small talk with the passerby’s. I’m mad that ya’ll missed me.

Random Photos Edition

Damon Weaver is interviewing comedian Chris Tucker at The Root Inaugural Ball in the V.I.P. section.  True story, some random (black) couple came up to me and my date in the Kenneth E. Behring Center (the exhibit in the Smithsonian where they house the Presidential memorabilia) and asked if we wanted their V.I.P passes.  It was that kind of night.  I guess I didn't even have to ask Natalie for any additional passes since black folks were in a giving mood.  Now how often does that happen?

Speaking of the Kenneth E. Behring Center, it was really interesting to see the presidential photos all in a row. Once again number 44 cemented a major point without even having to say a word in that one.  What a different world the children of today will grow up in!  Tom stopped by The McGann residence after we took the TJMS scholarship winners from Howard University out to lunch.  Aren't Maven and Maverick McGann, adorable?  Maverick is Tom's godson, and Maven is my goddaughter. 

Thomas and Toy couldn't bring my other goddaughter because of the hectic schedule, but you can get the general idea.  We're all thick as thieves.  I can't wait for Toy to have her birthday party in Miami this year so we get to go jet skiing and party hopping all over South Beach, again.  I haven't been there since Oscar's 30th birthday party a few years back and I'm super stoked to make it happen.

There were these little cakes at Toy's birthday party in Dallas that someone made and I swear they melted in your mouth.  The description "bite-sized cupcakes" doesn't really do them justice, but they were shaped like hearts and I absolutely loved them.  Please, Lord, let there be more of those little cakes in Miami in a couple of weeks.  Hmmm-um-um.  Scrumptious and delectable!

Speaking of Oscar, Tom's little brother, he came through Washington DC sporting a brand new girlfriend.  I know if may be hard for some of you to believe, but Oscar used to be one of the biggest pimps on this side of the Mississippi.  I suppose after he graduated FAMU and headed back West he settled down a little.  Let's say that his 30th birthday party in Miami was the last straw.  Now that he's deeply involved in Reach Media and Radio One, he needs to keep a more professional profile.  Quietly, you need a wife for all that and I guess he's about to make it happen because he's never been so forthcoming with his women before.  Anyway, I got a candid shot of him and Rudy, and a couple of him with his family on the historic night of the Tom Joyner All Star Tribute.

Keeping everything into focus, to the right are the TJMS Scholarship Winners from Howard University.  They were the spitting images of Thomas, Rudy, and myself when we were at Howard so many years ago: one was a political scientist, another studies communications and the one all the way on the right studies biology.  That sort of thing just doesn't happen everyday.

Another thing that doesn't happen everyday is getting asked to leave a restaurant when you clearly had reservations.  B. Smith's restaurant in Washington DC takes the cake for their asinine behavior on the afternoon of January 19th.  Those imbeciles over there had the nerve to turn down our reservations because they weren't able to figure out that Barack Obama's security detail would be conducting a sweep of Union Station.  So the long and short of it is, that the maitre' d at B. Smith's restaurant told the Tom Joyner Foundation to go and fuck themselves because they didn't have their acts together during the biggest week in the city.

Being the resourceful bourgeoisie black folk that we are, though, we headed to Georgia Brown's restaurant instead and Tom vowed that this was the last time that B. Smith's would get a chance to enjoy his business.  All in all, the girls were very resilient and they had a nice time eventually.  You would think that B. Smith's would have been smarter than all of that so that they could get a good plug on black radio, but the dumbasses didn't even read between the lines when I was trying to explain that one of the girls is handicapped and not necessarily all that mobile.

The Southern Christian Leadership Conference, Civil Rights Inaugural Ball was an event that I attended in great haste after the Delta Sigma Theta Sorority and 100 Black Men affair that my mother helped to plan. The busiest night of all the week’s festivities occurred on January 20, 2009. The actual Inauguration ceremony had already gone off without a hitch and I even had a chance to watch a little of the parade. Thank God that I live so close to the National Mall in South West, Washington DC or I wouldn’t have been able to see any of it. People were drawing comparisons to the Million Man March back in 1996, but I must admit, there was little to compare.

The atmosphere was charged but there weren’t nearly as many people on the National Mall back to hear Farrakhan ramble on and on about atonement. The good old fashioned love-in gave me a nice respite from the anticipation of absolute bedlam. I thought that there was going to be complete anarchy, but once again, I was wrong about Barack Obama. I wanted to be a safe witness to history and I got my wish. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary went down. Black people and white people came together as Americans and everything is okay. I suppose that since I’m talking about all of these important political and social organizations I should co-sign the remark that part of the dream of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. has finally been realized.

Who would have thought this possible? I certainly didn’t think it was possible for me to make it to all of the events that I made it to, but I did. I suppose I really am a pessimist when it comes to certain estimates. The best part about the evening was catching up with my favorite friends before they went back to the hustle and bustle of their everyday lives. I know it is a rare event, indeed, that could bring us all together and that we were the witnesses to what will be the only first inauguration of a black president of the United States of America. I don’t think that this blog warrants me waxing poetic on that topic because I think that I do it in another post, but everybody should make a note of how cool it is to watch history unfold. It really is a brand new day in America.

Contrary to popular belief, I had a date at these events so I wasn’t totally alone and looking like the fifth wheel again. I just don’t know how comfortable I am putting up my date’s pictures because we haven’t reached that level of friendship yet. I’m adverse to taking liberties because for all I know she’s totally embarrassed of me and otherwise can’t be seen with me. Now I know that some of you are thinking "yeah right" but the truth of the matter is that there is a good chance that this is exactly the case.  On the brighter side, I do have pictures of my Aunt Diane and mother. I escorted both of them to the The Root Ball, as well as to the Delta Sigma Theta production. We all had a blast, thanks for inquiring. I had some difficulty with tying my own bow tie though.  I need a lot more practice before I start auditioning for the James Bond role.

Um, are ya'll peeping Toy in the purple velvet?  I, myself, was like "yess!" when I saw her in this dress.  So awesome.  I must give props to all of the ladies this week for holding it down and looking absolutely marvelous.  The guys had it easy.  I could have worn the same tuxedo over and over again, but I tried to be a little more classy than that.  The women, on the other hand, had to come correct to so many events in succession and they all knocked it out of the park.  Kudos.  On another note, I'm about to start telling people that these photos were taken at my wedding.  I know that I'm not married or anything, but these might be the only shots of us all together after so many years of being heavily involved with our out families. 

Well the program title read “Radio One All Star Celebrity Tribute to Outstanding Morning Show Host Tom Joyner” and it was obvious from the start that the evening would be all about the man who changed perceptions about Barack Obama and engaged hundreds of thousands in the political process. Of course, I’m talking about the medium of black radio and the most outstanding and dynamic educator and entertainer and his knack for reaching and galvanizing the black community. The election of Barack Obama cannot be solely attributed to the dedication of one man “partying with a purpose” but there is certainly no denying that without his input, in between catering to the general black masses from his nationally syndicated radio show, the outcome would have been much closer.

How much closer, you may ask? Well let’s just start with the fact that long before Barack Obama might have become a household name and a presidential hopeful, Tom Joyner registered hundreds of thousands of voters in a community that was most likely favorable to such grandiose notions of a black president. Without any motivational empowerment of the black community it can be said that Obama could have very well lost.  I am certain that I am not the only one who thinks in this way, today. Some of you already know from my earlier posts that I didn’t even succumb to the faint delusion that a black president would be possible in America until it actually happened. (Up until last night, I was still rubbing my eyes and discussing over filet mignon that concept was finally sinking in -more on that later, though.) The third page after the autograph insert on the second page of the program was a letter from the 44^th President Elect Barack Obama saying as much in a public thank you letter.

This was a tribute to someone that helped to elect the President of the United States of America. He is a black man from Alabama –and a king maker in the truest sense, in a nation that had nothing but open contempt for him at the start of his career. Sadly, at the start of his shining tribute, I was once again late and in the tented Green Room behind the theatre enjoying lamb shanks and jerk chicken. I was sipping champagne when the announcement was made to take seats in the auditorium so as not to embarrass Radio One’s affiliate television station TV One during the eventual broadcast. I was one of the first to bail after the proclamation was made by millionaire owner Cathy Hughes but it is important to note that there was very many a star that was mesmerized by the elaborate spread provided by Hennessy.

When I took my seat in the wing behind Tom Joyner the evidence seemed a little stronger that “the play was the thing” because Chuck Brown, Eric Benet, Raheem DeVaughn, James Ingram, and Jamie Fox were all great performances. Cathy Hughes wasn’t really the best emcee for the event but it was more of a tribute to Tom coming from her, so none of it was worse for the wear. Conspicuously absent from the tribute were his radio show co-hosts but affiliates from other stations like Russ Parr and Huggy Low-Down paid homage. By the time Dick Gregory got on the stage, I really knew that this was something special. As usual Dick Gregory framed it in the most succinct way, as only a 76-year-old black man could, “thank you, Tom.”

Now on to the foolishness.  There are so many flossy things to talk about but I'm going to limit it to just pictures and random statements.  The event was super tight.  There can be no equivocation on that point.  Tom Joyner and his sons have revolutionized black media to include a social conscious.  I am proud to say that my friend and college roommate helped to raise more money for Historically Black Colleges than the United Negro College Fund.  That's right, Tom Joyner, Jr. is a force to be reckoned with in black higher education as the CEO of the Tom Joyner Foundation.  Youngest son, Oscar Joyner, is also a friend but he concentrates his efforts as President of the Reach Media, a Radio One affiliate that incorporates radio, television and events.  The boys aren't playing around, and neither was I at the event billed as the kick-off to start inaugural festivities.  I took pictures and downed as much free alcohol as social circumstances would allow.  My only mission in the night was not to embarrass anyone, so it was just like the good old days when we were in school.

My usual leash, Rudolph, didn't get there until much later due to the fact that his son Maverick had a basketball game.  I'm sure he would have put a stop to my paparazzi status.  It was not as if I was star struck, but I wanted to take pictures for the historic event.  Plus this is good documentation of me finally becoming a believer in Barack Obama.  Anyway, this is what Rudy would have had to contend with: Does anyone remember the girl from the television show "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air?"  Yeah, well she was there and I took a picture with her.  How about basketball player Alonzo Mourning?  Yeah, well I took pictures of him, too.  It went on and on like this until I finally left the catered Green Room at the behest of a millionaire.  Now after the event, we went to go eat some more and I felt really silly at Old Ebbet Grill.  Tom Joyner and Gerald Lavert treated us to a late night meal and a cocktail as we discussed the night's proceedings.  Everyone was all smiles but it was starting to become telling to me that I wasn't the only one marveling at the beauty of it all.  In a few short days there will be a black man as the President of the United States.  The restaurant that were eating our late night snack in would have been off limits to all of us, regardless of star power, in segregated Washington DC 60 years ago.  Anyway, you slice it, it was a much better look for everyone on hand or anyone else that might wonder in 2009.

Cut to Pretty Toney talking with his assistant pimp.

Pretty Toney said "no man, all bitches are the same just like my hoes. you know, I keep 'em broke.  Wake up one morning with some money they subject to go crazy, you know.  I keep 'em looking good and pretty and all that, you know?  But no dough..."

Cut to Goldie's pimp sponsor laying down the game before he puts him on.

Old Pimp "The game is out there Goldie, just waiting for you.  You can be a player, perhaps one of the best.  You see you were one of my best boys: the sharpest.  I hated losing you..."

The Old Pimp continues in the classic black exploitation film, The Mack, featuring Max Julien.

"We gonna change all that now.  I'm going to put you on your feet again.  You're going to have a bank roll so big when you walk down the street it's going to look like your pockets got the mumps...

Now remember a pimp is only as good as his product, see, and his product is women so now you got to go out there and you got to get the best ones you can find. You got to work them broads like nobody's ever worked them before.  And never forget: anybody can control a woman's body, see, but the key is to control her mind.  You see pimpin' is big business and it's been going on since the beginning of time and it's going to continue straight ahead until somebody up there turns out the lights on this small planet.  Can you dig it?  Right on."

Cut to BIG DIC holding it down at El Porto in the frog raise-up stance. 

Ya'll all better recognize game.

I know that all of you are thinking what does DICooper surfing at El Porto have to do with the pimp game.  The answer is simple:  I'm Venice Beach official Dog Town status and you can't even stop the Bruzz!

I forgot to tell all of you Happy New Year in 2009 because I've been extremely busy.  I rang in the New Year in San Diego with my good buddy Joel and his family.  Joel handed over his son Tosh to Grandma Denise for the evening and Joel and Maya threw an after party from 0100 to 0700 on January 1.  Our other Italian friend, Daniele, was also on hand and we had a hell of a time.

Somehow we managed to surf the next day like it was all good, at Swami's.  I cut my hand on a rock but I also surfed the best that I ever surfed in my life that day.  I was looking like a serious pro for a couple of waves there, and some photographers were taking shots of me and asking for my name.  The funny thing is that after Daniele dragged me there -because Joel wouldn't even consider it, I didn't want to leave.  I think that it is going to be a pretty good year.

It is all about looking forward in 2009.  I have a brand new niece and my career is starting to take off.  This make-it-happener gig seems to be right up my alley and the Stags are kicking ass in WCAC basketball and taking names.  We're getting a new president in a matter of days now, and my birthday is around the corner.  The future just seems brighter in 2009, doesn't it?

Everyone is asking about the Inauguration and if I'm attending any of the balls.  Well any time that you have something black and bourgeoisie as the first inauguration of a black President of the United States, you know that I have to make it happen.  On a scale from one to ten on the black bourgeoisie meter, this series of events rates one thousand.  It is off of the meter, folks.  There will not be a bigger, blacker, more bourgeoisie event in our lifetime. 

The only thing that could possibly be bigger than a black man being the leader of the free world is if Jesus Christ came back in a pimped-out Cadillac from the sky and threw a week's worth of parties before the rapture.  But even then, I'm pretty sure that Jay Z and Russell Simmons wouldn't be there, or at least they wouldn't be nearly as excited.  I shouldn't have to tell you people anymore that Jesus is black, but you get the gist of the fact that everybody and their momma would be talking about, "I know Jesus.  We go way back."  Oh, and Jesus is black, people...

At this point, my "in" at all of the inaugural events is owed, once again, to the fact that I am a Howard University alumnus.  The Bison are taking the lead in all of this because Barack received an honorary degree from Howard a couple of years ago and Washington DC is really our town.  Brothers have already gotten their tuxedo games up to par and are ready to make it happen.  The catch for most people is that fact that the events are all pretty expensive, but to a Howard man, this is old hat.

Every Bison knows, or soon learns, that it is not always what you know, but who you know.  Sometimes it is a combination of both.  In my case, I happen to know all the right young, gifted, and black folks on the scene and I am fortunate enough to call most of them good friends.  I'll be sure to take plenty of pictures because this is definitely going to be one for the ages.  I'm reluctant to post my personal schedule because some of you will just be jealous.  Let's suffice to say that your boy is blessed!