Back to Being Black

Don’t Be Cruel  We’re not even a full week outside of Black History Month, and black folks are already acting a fool.  Didn’t the constant stream of Black facts mean anything to you?  Now that the 28 days of blackness is over, we as black people must find other ways to rub it America’s face that we are owed more than an entire month to celebrate our greatness. Unfortunately March 01 ended all of that and black folks are back to what the media thinks is the norm–Black folks being black folks.  No more images of great black heroes that will forever fill history books.  No more hyped-up panels, meetings, or discussion groups to examine ways to improve the current state of Black America.  Until next February, we’ll have to suffer as the scale tips more toward negative images of blacks.

At the beginning of this week, the media exposed a video of a young, black boy presenting his 2 and 5 year-old nephews with a joint.  Yes, to smoke.  The toddlers then both impressively and confidently proceeded to puff, inhale, and exhale.  In other words, they knew how to get blowed—not even a cough.  They must have had some practice.  The toddlers’ uncle, Demetrius McCoy, must be great with kids.  My uncle only every offered me advice about men.  This guy is obviously a better uncle than mine.  He entertains them, teaches them how to master difficult techniques, and involves them in his extra-curricular activities.  What a great uncle!  Demetrius does apologize for his actions.  Funny how the footage of the incident doesn’t show any sincerity.  Sorry black people, this one’s our fault.

You may have also heard about Bobby Brown’s recent renege on his commitment to a radio station.  The station, in exchange for Brown’s promise to be a week long guest/employee, posted bond for his recent jail visit.  As of now, Bobby is a free man, but somehow hasn’t made it to the station.  What’s keeping him?  Guess he’s just being Bobby Brown.

Why do blacks behave as so?  Is it in our genes, or do we just do it to give the media something to talk about.  I too am guilty of creating a negative image of blacks.  Yes, I have committed black-on-black crime.  I hate to tell on myself, but I feel so ashamed. 

A few days a week, I go to a local recreation center to exercise.  Although I have a membership at a much better gym with nicer amenities, sometimes I like to be around “my people.”  My gym is full of older, white people who just smile and wave.  The rec center is full of nothing but my people who love to laugh, chat, and are basically a source of constant entertainment.  That is except for the cutest little, freckled-face white boy–he always makes my day.  Lookout for more on him in the future. 

After work, I battle the stop and go traffic and head to the rec.  At the rec, my exercise options are lifting weights, running, or doing group aerobics.  Lifting weights is out of the question, and aerobics requires focus and coordination.  After the long work day and the strenuous drive, those are two things that I don’t want to think about.  The best way for me to shake off the work day is to run.  This would require a treadmill.  Unfortunately, the rec center only offers one treadmill to it’s members.  It’s not the rec’s fault; the center is maintained by the city and must take what they can get.  The problem lies in the availability of the treadmill, which is basically “first come, first serve.”  So in order to be first, I must 1)fight through traffic 2)change into work-out clothes 3)be the first to grab the key to the treadmill.  Sometimes I’m victorious, sometimes I’m not. 

Solution: Scheme my way into getting the treadmill key before anyone else can get a chance. 

At first, I had no problem getting to the treadmill.  Then suddenly, these two middle-aged women decided they wanted to use the treadmill too.  No problem, you say.  I should be glad that my fellow sistahs are concerned about their health, right?  Uhmmm, yes there is a problem.  Those heifers take turns WALKING on the treadmill—each for 30 minutes.  Walking is not helping them.  They need to take their asses to the group aerobics so they can feel the burn like all the other middle-aged women.  Now you may think I’m over-exaggerating, but the treadmill is kind of like my work-out sanctuary.  Just as well, they would be better off busting their buns in the aerobics class for an hour than pussy-footing it on the treadmill.  Believe me, I’ve attended the group class before and it ‘ain’t no joke.’  So where does this leave me now?  Back to my scheme.

  • Leave work 5 minutes early to get a head start on rush hour traffic
  • Grab treadmill key as soon as I get to the rec center
  • Run on the treadmill for 45 minutes forcing the women to join the aerobics class

This may seem petty to you, but I’m actually helping them out in the end.  They’re never going to make their target weight by walking for 30 minutes.  And it’s not like they’re doing any strenuous walking anyway.  The women, and sometimes men, who take the group class have experienced great weight loss.  So as you can see, I’m not hating, I’m helping.  Technically, it’s not black-on-black crime anyway.

Sincerely,

ty!

P.S. Please click on the links provided for further details and insight on the topics mentioned, in particular the calories converter.  There’s the proof.

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One thought on “Back to Being Black

  1. tovorinok says:

    Hello

    Great book. I just want to say what a fantastic thing you are doing! Good luck!

    G’night

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