Man, under-destruction?

 Ah yes....... it's that time of year again, time where we break out our best clothes and booze, go out on the town and find someplace memorable to celebrate the closing hours, minutes and seconds of the fated year. It's time to look back on the year, assessing the major highs and lows, all in the vain attempt of figuring out where our lives went wrong (or right) and correct the course. It's time to grab our nearest and dearest and thank whatever deity we pray to for the 365 days given to us to spend with them.  This time of year is a crock of shit! In the words of Chris Rock, "THAT'S RIGHT, I SAID IT"!!!!  No no, this is not me indulging in another tirade of the inanities of the holidays due to some isolation-induced dementia nor is it some retrospective on the futility of planning.  This is acknowledgement, pure and simple.  New year is not supposed to be some grand promise made to ourselves and those around us. A resolution is not a proclamation of our sup

When I was a kid, I was an avid viewer of “Martin”. It was a situational comedy or Sitcom starring comedian Martin Lawrence. Lawrence would pull an “Eddie-Murphy” (a term we used to describe a production of sorts where a key actor/actress played multiple roles), playing several characters on the show, requiring various degrees of make-up and props. The main character he played was Martin Payne, a radio DJ working for the fictional radio broadcast service W.Z.U.P., which he would usually work into his on-air segments by greeting listeners with “Whaddup, whaddup, WZZZZUUUUPPPPP!!!”  Now, one might wonder why I’m starting off with an ode to a random 90’s-era TV show, but there’s a reason. For those of you who know me and who read this, I’ve been on hiatus for a while. So, I use this as an off-ramp for this piece. So, in the spirit of the aforementioned, WZZZZZZUUUUPPPP!!!  Sup, folks. Hope all is well wherever you are or call home. I trust the holidays have been wonderful to you all. A

 They say always start off with a joke. It's comforting and it puts people at ease. Despite the nature of what I'm about to write, I can't help but revert to type. So......   Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life is harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world. Doctor says, "Treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. Says, "But doctor... I am Pagliacci."   Funny, right? Yeah, I didn't think so either. Naturally, there is a reason I started off with this. Not due to it's obvious irony (not to mention the fact that it's a quote from the film "Watchmen" based on the semi-popular comic book which I found to be unappealing), but because it is an accurate depiction of and summation on the life and tragic death of one of the greatest comedians of all time.  Comedian Robin Williams died on August 11th of this year. Alt

 I wasn't a very bright kid growing up. On some levels, I'm still that simple-minded child, going through life, head in the clouds, somewhat oblivious to the the state of affairs that our land/world is in. Admittedly, I'm aware of this, but it's not because of some over-abundance of apathy, nor am I incapable of understanding the way the world works. I mention this because of my initial difficulty of understanding a phrase I once heard, "walk a mile in another man's shoes". I had no idea what in the hell that meant, considering that very few people share the same shoe size and no two individuals could have the exact level of comfort with the same shoe. It wasn't until after a lengthy explanation (and a huge amount of personal patience on my fathers part) that I understood the phrase. And it is with that in mind that I open with this.  Having lived here in my current residence for over 4 years, I have been blessed to have met people who have been kind

 Stop me if you've heard this one before.....in every crew/group/assortment of friends, there's always that one person who stands out. They seem to be lost in their own world, or perhaps they don't seem to fit in with the rest of the individuals that make up this collective, or maybe they're just so awkward that their inclusion into the group is a bit of a mystery to all.  That's the set up.....now for the punchline.......  If you don't know who that is in your group, chances are that it's YOU!!!!  I'll allow a brief pause for those of a more sinister wit to absorb and enjoy that piece of rather hurtful humor.  Of course, that's just a joke, right? If a group is sincerely a group, then surely all it's members are equally valued and appreciated, right? Well, as much as we would like to think so, as I've said time and again, we don't live in a perfect world. Our world is anything but fair.  I open with this in regards to something I sa

 Growing up in my household, fashion had always been a bit of a touchy subject between the kids and parents. Namely because our parents didn't understand our constant preference of jeans, t-shirts and sneakers as our daily "uniform". In retrospect, I can understand my parent's desire for us to dress appropriately for certain occasions (I still remember the battle royal that went down during the infamous "graduation fiasco"), but on the other hand, we were kids. Isn't it in our nature to rebel through any means, including through our fashion? That sociological question not withstanding, this is not a tirade on pre-teen fashion choices.  After arriving in my current residence, I took stock of several items that I had in my possession. One of them had been my father's coat. Before my departure, he gave it to me, claiming that it would help me "stay warm". Granted, I took him at his word, not knowing that the ensuing winter would be overwhelmi

 Hello one and all. As I write this, I can help but feel like I sound like some messiah who just came back to his flock. And while my ego would like for me to embrace such a position, common sense and good judgement would advise me otherwise.  But, nonetheless I'm back. Forgive the absence for I've been away attending to matters that extend outside the blog community. To whose reading this that couldn't care less, my apologies for wasting your time with such drivel. Nonetheless, I beg your indulgence as I dive into yet another entry with my own brand of bravado.  Some of you might not know this, but my favorite rap group has always been Bone Thugs n Harmony. Although some might claim that it is their harmonious rap style and their fast-paced lyrical delivery that appeals to most, truth is, I can't truly describe why I've had such an affinity toward them. Nonetheless, my brethren and I have been huge fans since the days of "Cross Roads" (for which they wo

 In any high school, you could tell who the cool kids were from the activities they partook in. Growing up in Eritrea, the cool kids were always active in debating. Might sound weird to some, considering how debating has been a bit of a geek-oriented endeavor but such was the culture of my native land. I remember during an intermission of one of these debate activities, people were being invited to share some poetry they had written. And from the sea of enthusiastic individuals stood a solitary young man. Now, the said young man was blind and needed help getting up on stage, but once he did and once he stood before the masses, both his voice and message spoke volumes. He read, aloud, a poem he had written. While the title of the poem eludes me to this day (which is understandable considering it was almost 15 years ago)the title still stuck with me, namely because he kept shouting it out....."I AM BLIND, BUT NOT MY MIND"!!! The poem was a tribute to all disabled individuals wh

 I've been called a Renaissance man a time or two. No, I'm not boasting of some inflated sense of creativity or ability, but I will admit that I lean a bit towards the creative side, as most of you can tell from the countless entries I've made on this tip. But, if I were to be brutally honest with, and about myself, I don't know how to draw. Seriously, the last sketch I ever made was when I was nine and even then, it looked like it had been drawn by a chicken that had suffered a stroke half way through. Granted, such a comparison would be mean considering my age at the time, but nonetheless, I could not draw back then & I can not draw now. And if I were to continue in my candor, I would say that one of the primary reasons I stuck with writing was because I couldn't draw worth a damn.  I'm sure most of you are probably wondering why I'm starting an entry on such a self-deprecating note, but as I've assured you all in the past, there is a method to my

 Who watches "Family Guy"? It's an interesting show, isn't it? I mean, take a man like Seth Macfarlane, a college frat boy who "grew up" in a loose sense of the word, allow his adolescent mind to wander into varying realms of insanity, thus culminating with the creation of a whole world that seems like a suburban moms nightmare and suddenly you have a hit T.V. show.....admittedly, one that was not without its share of controversy, competition and ultimate difficulty.  I find that each character seems to represent different aspects and dysfunctions of the everyday regular man. Take Peter Griffin, an overgrown child with a peter pan-complex who refuses to grow up, Glen Quagmire, a pervert who makes Albert Desalvo, a.k.a. the Boston Strangler, look like a chiorboy, Cleveland Brown, a misrepresentation of everything potentially wrong with African-America and so on.  But, for all the characters on the show, it fails to portray "the irritation", that g

 If you ask anyone who knew me when I was a young child, or "knee-high-to-a-grasshopper", they'll tell you that I've always been a dancer. Hell, according to mom, as a young pup, I used to get dressed, mosey on down to the living room, turn on dad's 8-track (we were one of they few who still had them) and just jam. I guess that explains my love of Motown (60's RnB and soul) and 80's joints. I've gone through my own evolution of dance of sorts. I've outgrown the electric boogaloo, the slide, the robot and the running man and replaced it with main stream, poppin & locking and my personal favorite, Krump. Even now, with my current, albeit gradually healing case of sciatica, I still can't help but bust a move whenever an appropriate beat comes on. I guess that explains the irritating delays in my recovery. Nonetheless, I've always been a dancer, or rather, a lover of dance. I guess that would flow nicely with my singing (which, I don't

When I was in college, I fell into a bit of a minority. Not just because I preferred to speak english over my mother tongue (Tigrinya, Eritrea's national language) but because of my choice of majors. While most people expected me to major in English, I chose journalism, mainly because I felt it had more to offer me career-wise. And even then, I was still a bit of a loner. While most of my class-mates minored in political science, which was the "norm" and practical, I chose to minor in history, which I had always loved since high school. And in history, a common theme I found, time and again, is that man is truly the most violent of god's creations. For example, I once read that since the beginning of recorded history, humanity has had about 289 years worth of peace. That's roughly 8% of recorded history. What that means is that the other 92% of the time, we spent it engaged in some war, military act or what not. In short, we've spent the rest of the time tryi

 Is there anybody on the planet who isn't a fan of Will Smith? I'd be sincerely hard-pressed to find one, to be perfectly honest. The man is multi-talented, humble and (let's be honest) looks like a statue of a greek god carved from obsidian (which is a dark, extrusive igneous rock.......yes, I paid attention in 9th-grade geography.....I also watch the Discovery channel). He also seems to be somewhat of a sensitive soul and one I can relate with (as arrogant as that may sound), especially after his recent statement......"Every young man needs an Uncle Phil....". It's funny......I've always agreed with that and I'd once again be hard-pressed to find anyone who would disagree.  Actor James Avery a.k.a. Uncle Phil, died on the last day of 2013 from complications of open heart surgery. He was 68. While his death is indeed a tragedy, I'm not writing this to mourn his death but to celebrate his life.  As it usually goes in Hollywood, Avery gained most