Friday, March 26, 2010

What Killed The Glass Of Tap Water?...."The Bottle Did"

Bottle water killed the complimentary offering of a glass of water to guest. It makes house, apartment or condo guest real greedy. They'll open one, half drink it, then take it, and a new one for the road. I'm going to start breaking out that pitcher of Brita filtered water with glasses again and add lemon slices because lemon slices always make you forget that you're drinking tap water. And to all my trend following-consumer friends who are addicts for good marketing, "Smart Water" will not make you smart "Reading Will!!!" Trust me, one of my boy has been drinking "Smart Water" for years and he just got caught sexting back and forth with his assistant. His wife put his raunchy self photo shoot into a slide show then emailed his whole contact list. So whatever water his wife drinks he needs to start drinking that!!!

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Epiphany #6

If you open up their closet and you are avalanched by a mountain of their junk then that means they still haven't dealt with all their mess and probably don't know how, so bring your maids kit and apron because you'll be doing a lot of soul cleaning.

Monday, March 15, 2010

The NFL Combine...."The Athlete Auction"

Well that time of year has come and gone again where young super freak athletes built like Skynet T-800's parade around a field made of artificial green being told when to jump, when to run and how fast to do it, it's the human "Best in Show". Whoring what's left of their athletic talents at the 2010 NFL Combine, after the good Old Collegiate Mob and Shady Booster Dons have already slutted out their talents for billions of that new, funny looking money in exchange for buffet type meals, warm up sweats advertising the schools name (free walking ad space), a few girls who give them an early dose of how addicting fame can be, and an education that most of them never even get. All for the sake of wanting to do what they Love, "Play," buy Mom and Big Momma that dream home down the street from the hood and to be able to trade in the lemon that barely made it to each and every one of their Pop Warner and high school games for the German experience, a Mercedes Sl v12, with heated leather, navigation and wood grain. Oh and let's not forget do a little splurging on themselves, not limited to, but exhausting a few G's; making it rain inside clubs, normal or nude, or mining a neck, wrist or mouth full of those blingy things.

After watching this years future Monday Night prospects push themselves to be valued high in the eyes of those who crunch the numbers and determine these Gridiron Cyborgs' worth based on pre-written guides, like some sort of NFL Kelley Blue Book; how old they are, their weight, height, how fast they run the 40, and how long they'll last in a game where every time they touch the field it is like being in mini car accidents. Where each down played is an investment made in the bank of "Brain damage," which I guess turns out to be a much better diversified portfolio than being bankrupt vegetables, "Spine or the Mind, Mind or the Spine?"

There are only two activities that take place over the six days, the personal interview and the drug testing that I midgetly agree with. Contradicting myself just for a brief moment and tapping into my own inner business man, I can kind of understand owners wanting to know what they're investing in, but even that concern has its limits to me because that's what behavior clauses in contracts are for, "Behave or don't get paid." Sad thing is most of the players invited will probably never even make it out of the Combine to become household names, only to be written off as just clunkers, never getting a chance to earn any of the cash, which is why some, I guess, invitees take their chances by not even attending. Critics or experts, experts or critics say it's a risky move when it comes to how high a player drafts. But I like the gamble just for the principle "Draft me for what I've done already and let me finish proving while you're paying me," that's one hell of a poker face.

I wonder though, do other professionals like doctors or lawyers endure this same kind of exploited obstacle course after they've already proven themselves worthy by finishing med school or passing the bar? I know in every industry or on every job there is competition to remain and exist, but usually it's that way once you're already a part of the team; getting paid, competing to remain a part of the team all while continuing to be paid right?

I mean are med students put in a surgery room the size of an arena with other med students and timed on how fast they perform an open heart surgery? Or are Law students put in a courtroom to see how many witnesses they can break in a day? How well they studied and what ivy league school they obtained their degree from is often enough to pave their way. If I'm not mistaken, medical students are paid minimal salaries while they do their residencies and the same goes for Law students when they're legal assistants. The outcome of their careers rest solely on their shoulders, it's up to them how long they burn the oil in the libraries studying. Which is the equivalent to a student athlete eating right, daily weight room workouts, staying out of trouble (which still bugs me to why it's so important for athletes to be held to that standard and not other elected "Role Models") and avoiding all foul play 

i. e., drugs and steroids. But yet they don't get paid for this same focus and discipline as their fellow future professionals. And if a player does decide to partake in the fruits of their labor and accept bags full of cash gifts it is a violation, in comes the banishing, quickly ruining their future which is why I again respect the athlete who decides not to attend; "You can't win for losing," so play how you wanna play and at your own risk.

I must say the whole process seems a little slavish. All that's missing is some Massa looking man examining their nude frames, stretching and opening their jaws just to show how strong their teeth are in front of an audience full of pale, sun stressed looking potential buyers and owners, while rapidly shouting out prices for their stock, "45,55,65 Sold!" Now some would argue, "No one is twisting their arms," well maybe not someone, but life sure is.

Life has them hostage and ain't no negotiating. Rent, gas and lights keep their hands bound and demand to be paid. Then let's not forget about family, close and extended who depend on them to feed the whole nest. Family is the hybrid beggar, a cross between the IRS and a disgruntled ex wife, "They want more than half" of what you worked so hard for, which is a special kind of pressure in itself because they never want to be the warrior who let the village down, leaving them with a smeared name, "Aww he really changed." But none of what I just said should even be an argument because the truth is they are future professionals who have worked just as hard as other future professionals and should be able to step through the same doors without having to build the same door over and over again before they walk through it.

When the ink on the headlines dries, A "Riser" or "Faller," one of the two titles will be the Sir that stands before each of the young athlete's name. It's not my birthday, but I wish I were in charge of passing out the sir names because they'd all be Risers to me, just for making it this far.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Awkward Moments....

Even when you're not trying to be sexual certain things we say can come off sooooo sexual. A woman said to me "Aww you're so cute I could just eat you up" and I said "Be careful now I'm full of bones." Talk about awkward and as a man, trying to explain what you really meant just makes it more freakishly awkward. I guess for us the little big head is always pulling the strings, making us their puppets even when we're not in the mood to play.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Quotes Of The Me

"Everyone wants to be a Philanthropist, it's American Culture "What did I do while I was there" so I guess it's just a matter of what kind of Philanthropy you want to be remembered for. I know mine, you?"

Monday, March 8, 2010

We Are Gods Kleenex

When it rains it's Gods way of letting us know that we're Loved. The joy is so overwhelming that the tears flood our lives all bubbly, like warm baths, cleansing us of everything that makes us dirty. And when our Holiness is done showering us with gallons of affectionate blessings, Cotton clouds brush across the Anointed ones' cheeks, soaking up every Loving drop of Hearty Heart left, like Bounty. And for our troubles of wearing shorts when it's pouring, ruining that new car wash or for nappying up freshly permed and stitched in weaves because of all the heavy sprinkling, God will smile a big bright rainbow across our gloomy sky to color our mood gay, keeping us happy until the next emotional vent storms our way.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

"Life" by Genevieve Richards

"Life? Can we call a truce? I promise that if you stop sucker punching me, then when I get off the floor, I will not beat you into oblivion as you so deserve. I don't know if you remember the last time I had to kick your ass, but as I recall, it wasn't pretty. So... do we have a deal?"

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Epiphany #5

How clean they keep their home is usually a great sign of how tidy they are with their life.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Silencing The Crickets

Mind full of crickets. Life ping's around, like a kid kicking a Coke can. The future of the invent is like an expecting Mom not wanting to know the sex on the ultra, "You never know what you're getting until it get's here." Thoughts all wrinkled, optimism is the maid that irons them out, fear is the mud that tries so hard to dirty them up again and again, but then faith is always the Tide that Surfs right in and cleans them Fresh, like lavender spring wind. Mornings bring new chances, evenings remind us to take full advantage of whatever's left in the rest of our 24, nights mean it's over forever and ain't no turning the past back. The jukebox only plays two tunes, happy or sad, so the song you sing should always be worth the quarters you spend.

I Love the mood that the forest is in when flowers are blooming, "Silent and Beautiful," with Bambi skipping thru its bush not stressed because all the wolves have been humbled to puppies. The sun joins the party, so it shines down and dances across the grassy floor, like Sammy playing Bo Jangles on Broadway. An audience of chatty birds whistle and applaud from their branch seats perched high above in maple flavored pine trees, looking down on chickens who've forgotten that they have wings and are too afraid to fly. Moving like a slinky, the water falls meeting the rest of its body in a pool big enough to hold its weight, causing a cool mist of spit to spray tired and parched leaves from all the bouncing around to the beat of a soulful breeze. This kind of mood is what silences the crickets and gives ink to a future that was once only just paper. This kind of mood is what silences the crickets....