The Palm Reader

he said he could read palms
so I wrote him a little note there
right there next to the love line
I worded the message with care

he said he could read palms
so I wrote him a little note there
right there next to the love line
it read love me if you dare

he said he could read palms
so I wrote him a little note there
right there next to the love line
he worded his reply with care

he said he could read palms
so I wrote him a little note there
right there next to the love line
it read I want to but I’m scared

and this right here is why...(2nd Installment)

My 2nd nomination for the 1 Mo' SANG-guh (1 More Single) Award goes to the only female group established in the 90s to put out 4, count 'em, 4 BANGIN albums back-to-back-to back-to-back.

I'm talking the only group to put out four albums that could play from start to finish with not one fast-forward (yeap, when this group first came on the scene we were still listening to cassettes), and not one single solitary skip. I mean this group is the reason Sony invented the auto-reverse feature.

I know you're probably thinking...En Vogue. NOPE!

TLC, right? NAWP!

What about SWV? Sorry!

I'm talking about the group that Flex Alexander once described on Showtime at the Apollo as "the fo' ugliest women in the music industry" (he was so wrong for that but soooooo right).

I'm talking about none other than the fat sista, the skinny sista who later became the fat sista, the dirty little light-skinned one that looked like a rat and Peppermint Patty (Hey, Sir). That's right! You guessed it. That MESS-tabulous foursome straight out the ATL...XSCAPE

These girls weren't ever cute, they're style was always just a little bit off and individually they were so forgettable but Great Jumpin' Ghost of R&B BATMAN when they opened they're mouths to sing...bless they're little hearts.

and this right here is why...
p.s. thanks Jermaine Dupri!
p.s.s. Hey, Keyshia Cole! We all know you think you're Tiny but newsflash ...Tiny could sing on key. Whiny sometimes but still on key.

LSL (Love as a Second Language)

If you've ever fallen for a poet, feel me on this one.

you make me wanna do some ol’ silly shit
like write you love letters that end in "maybe so"
scribble down our names together
even play some tic-tac-toe
with all them Xs and all them Os
XOs XOs
I wouldn’t mind doin’ some of that
hug me a little bit
I’ll kiss you a little back
but don’t get it twisted
that ain’t all where my head is at
let me tell you that this thing that I’m feeling
goes way beyond what might happen on sweaty backs
I’m thinking about rushing head first
smack dab into takin’ it real slow
but don’t worry cuz I ain’t that type
that feel like he gotta let ev’rybody know
what’s between us
ain’t meant for the world to see
what’s between us
ain’t for nobody but you and me
so get at me some time
I wanna hear you rhyme
get at me some time
I speak the second language
written between your lines

No, Really? #2

I came across this VIDEO in a blog yesterday and it struck me as quite interesting. I think the artist's content speaks quite eloquently to one of the majo in the Black community faces today...Excessiveness.

There is no doubt that each of us aspires to a life free of financial woes. I know I would like nothing more than to wake each morning without one thought, as the day passes, about how I'm going to make ends meet.

When I was a little boy people would ask me what I wanted to be and at some point I just started to answer "famous". Today, I realize that then it was not "fame" that I aspired to but the financial security I perceived it to bring. At 28 years old, I would like nothing more than to be "comfortable" and all this word implies.

Comfortable ~ When I can just set-up automatic bill payment through my online banking center and feel confident that each month the funds will be there. LOL

Hopefully, when I do finally reach this point, it will be the result of the effort I put into myself and my dreams rather than some "job".

So back to the question...

No, Really?

"Do you think that celebs setup automatic bill payment online? "

better yet,

"Does Oprah even have a debit card?"

"...and exactly how much money would she actually keep in that checking account?"

and this right here is why...

Today i introduce a little segment I like to call "And this right here is why..."

In a stand-up routine he used to do several years ago, Steve Harvey talked about groups and artists that he felt should be allowed to make "one mo' al-blum" (we all know the man can't talk).

Well, I got my own list of artists and groups that I wanna see again but NOT for a whole album. They need to just make 1 mo' "SANG-guh" (that's "single" for the ebonically impaired).

We DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT need them to try and stank up a whole album. We just need them to put out one mo' good song to break up the mess we hear on the radio today. If enough groups/artists put out one mo' good song then, we'll have enough to cycle throughout the day between Beyonce, Bow Wow and Chris Brown.

My first nomination is the group responsible for two of my Top 5 favorite songs of all time (the others "Be Happy" Mary J. Blige, "It's Gonna Rain" Kelly Price and "I Have Nothing" Whitney Houston). You CANNOT have a conversation with anyone of color about music who was alive in the early 90s without hearing two words, "Kissing Game".
My first nomination, none other than HI-FIVE (the WHOLE group and not just Tony Thompson).

And this right here is why...

"Kissing Game"



"Never Should've Let You Go"

Every now and then...

...one of them will do something to make me say, "I love me some white people!"

Tranformers The Movie

If you are an 80s baby, like me, then I'm sure you grew up on The Transformers. My favorite were the two boomboxes (Shockwave and Blaster). They were the ones that ejected cassettes that transformed into other little mechanical creatures.

I can't tell you how heartbroken I was when Optimus Prime died (see video below) in the first movie back then. Talk about a tragic loss!



I'm not sure if the following clip from the new feature captures the same feeling I got when I watched the original Transformers cartoon. I used to love the cartoon so much for the simple pleasure of watching them transform. I can't tell from this trailer how they accomplish that feat in the movie, though. I'm still going to see it! Enjoy.

Shoo Fly, Part I

"I NEED A WHEELCHAIR." Everyone looked at me dumbfounded. "I NEED A WHEELCHAIR." Dumbfounded and non-responsive.

My eyes raced around the emergency room. Within seconds I had memorized every face, every expression. They would pay if something happened to her. Still no wheelchair. Then, in the corner of my eyes, I spotted the spokes. Near the door where I entered, a folded wheelchair rested on the wall. I darted for the chair. They darted after me.

Through the automatic doors and down the ramp, I was at the SUV. Carefully, I lowered her from the seat into the wheelchair. Her breaths were labored. Each more precious than the one before. Quickly, I spun the chair around and dashed toward the emergency room door.

"SHIT!"

The only way into the ER was up a ramp which meant that I would need to lean her back in the chair. How can you lean her back in the chair? She can’t breathe. She already nearly blacked out trying to get out the car.

"Grab the front of the wheelchair," I snapped at the face from the lobby, "We’re going to have to carry this thing up the ramp."

My uncle and I proceeded to lift the chair up the ramp and just as suddenly, the first face I memorized in the ER knocked me to the side. Instantly, he leaned the chair back and started up the ramp. As I gathered myself there at the base of the ramp, her eyes rolled back in her head. I was helpless to help her. She was out.

By the time I got to the top of the ramp and through the doors the hospital intercom blared, "CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE!"

What the hell does that mean? Did you hear that? What is a code blue?

I can’t remember if I knew what Code Blue was or not. I don’t recall if I figured it out right there in the ER but soon it all hit me. The look I saw on her face, as her head fell limp and her eyes retreated in her skull, might be the last look I would see on her face alive.

We waited in the lobby of the ER. My mother...in tears. My uncle, an innocent bystander, lapped the room in disbelief. She was the only one of us who had seen anything remotely like this. Times before when it got this bad, I was always left at home to man the phone and keep the rest of the family updated but, tonight I was here out of necessity. Tonight, home was a twelve hour car ride away and there was no phone to man.

It had been about an hour since my sister coded and very little word had come from behind the double doors of the ER. I sat on the far wall of the waiting room in direct site of the double doors...anxious. The television mounted in the corner of the open space was of minimal distraction. Distractions? This room had none. The walls, the chairs, the ceiling, the floor...white. Barren. No paintings. No posters. No brochures. No magazines. Just wait.

We knew she was alive but that was all we knew. My father had been allowed behind the double doors some time ago but had yet to return with any news. The double doors were hinged to swing in and out so they did not come in direct contact with the ground. The shadows at their base intrigued me. I assumed the shadows were doctors and nurses scrambling back and forth among the patients. I hadn’t seen anyone else come into the emergency so I assumed my sister was one of maybe two or three patients being treated.

Finally, the doors opened in my direction and my father appeared in the lobby. He spotted me immediately. Mother hadn’t noticed me notice him and my uncle still circled the room in a daze. My dad motioned for me to come over.

"Son, your sister is Ok," he managed, "but it’s bad". I stared intently into his eyes. "I really don’t think that your mother should see her like this." I was still silent. "But if you want to see her, I think it’ll be ok."

It can’t be that bad. How bad could it really be? What the hell happened in there? It must be pretty bad if Daddy doesn’t want Mama to see it at all.

"Son, there’s nothing I can say that will prepare you for what you are about to see," he cautioned. "I’m gonna need you to be strong and hold it together. We can’t break down or else your mother’s gonna break down."

Now I was looking into his chest. My Daddy put his hand under my chin and lifted my eyes to meet his, "I’ll understand if you don’t want to go in."

"No. No, I wanna go in," strong in voice, weak in spirit,. "I can do it."

"Ok, son. I’m gonna go and talk to your mother. You can go in whenever you are ready."
He rested his hand briefly on my shoulder before he made his way toward the waiting area.
The amount of time I stood at those double doors I may never be able to determine. I had no clue what condition my sister would be in on the other side. Prayed? Maybe, can’t remember. Cried? No, I know that for certain. Talked to myself? Not aloud but all the voices in my head certainly had a lot to say already this evening. Finally, all of them agreed that it was time for me to go in.

to be continued...

No, Really?

Today, I'm going to introduce a new segment I like to call "No, Really?" I'll simply give you the scenario and pose a question. Feel free to hit me up with your thoughts and similar experiences.

No, really?

"Is it that bad when the chinese/tex-mex take out place in your neighborhood knows your voice, your address, your phone number and your order when you call?"

I have lived in the same apartment in Brooklyn for almost 3 years now. Food House, on Dekalb Avenue, was probably the first takeout place to leave a menu on my door. So, I just started ordering from them since my apt is really too small to cook in.

In the beginning, I usually ordered the M11 (chicken tostada salad) but have since branched off to the Q2 (chicken quesadilla) and the #52 (sweet and sour chicken) among other things.

And how weird is it that the same girl has been taking the orders since the beginning? The delivery guy is usually the same too. There have only been maybe one or two times that a different guy showed up. So does that mean I should have put him on my Christmas list?

No, really?

Whitney First, Family Second!

Ok!

*as I gather my composure*

Let me start by saying that I love Whitney like I love LFC movies (let that one marinate) and I am more than a little bit excited that she is getting herself together. With that said, I have to say that I would rather she just make me wait for the first single off the new album than to release nonsense like this:
FamilyFirst

The single, "Family First", from the new Tyler Perry production Daddy's Little Girls starring Gabrielle Union and Idris Elba, is almost as frighteningly disturbing as watching someone get hit by a car. The horror is not so much because of Whitney as her mother, Cissy, and cousin, Dionne Warwick, who make guest appearances. Dionne just sounds like Dionne. I don't really get into her. My Daddy loves her but I don't get the hoopla. I guess she must have been PHYNE back in the day. But, heavens to Megatroid, when that Cissy Houston gets to braying like one ol' mule, I just can't contain the laughter. She sounds so much like a donkey that I almost expect Harpo to appear in a pop-up and say, "I's gettin' to it Pa. I's gettin' to it."

It is rumored that the young voice on the song is none other than Bobbi Kris, our favorite little dysfunctional reality show progeny. She actually sounds pretty decent but those of us who bought Whitney's Christmas CD back in 2003 are not surprised. She accompanied her mother on "Little Drummer Boy". I'm not too sure who the guy is that appears for a couple bars. It may be her brother, Gary, but last I heard he was much more talented than this.

Now, to stir up a little controversy. Have any of you ever wondered why Whitney Houston doesn't really look like her mother. I used to just think that maybe she looks like her father until it occured to me one day that she looks an awful lot like Dionne Warwick. Well, I did a little research and lo and behold, based on old footage of Dionne, they have very similar mannerisms. Not to mention that Whitney's voice shares more in common with Dionne than Cissy (just check out the note Dionne hits at the end). DionneWarwick Plus, the older Whitney gets, the more she looks like Warwick. Besides, everyone always says that they are cousins but no one ever talks about how. You look at the pics and you tell me...

P.S. For those of you who didn't catch the LFC...hit me up and i'll fill you in! In the meantime, check out some throwback Whitney. The note at the end is simply angelic!

WhereDoBrokenHeartsGo

Sounds a lot like what you heard earlier from Dionne, hunh?

Coincidence? I think NOT!

Does He Look Like a Hero?

On Tuesday morning, a 50-year-old African-American man dove onto the subway tracks at the 137th Street No. 1 station to save the life of a man who looked nothing like him. The teen was not related to Wesley Autrey. The two had not even been conversing prior to the seizure that caused the young man to fall onto the tracks. However, within a split second, Autrey leaped onto the tracks, covered the teen with his own body and held on for dear life as a train roared overhead. Did I mention that his two young daughters witnessed it all from the platform edge?

Take a look at Autrey. He looks like many of the Black men we pass on the streets of New York City everyday. We pass many of them without so much as a second thought but there are those among us that would never suspect that one of these men would be the one to change the start of a phone call from, "Ma'am, I'm sorry to have to tell you this..." to "Your son has been in an accident but is alright".

The video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_N2zhu5RH34 shows a man who looks and acts like many of my uncles. He looks like the same man that causes women to clutch their purses. The same man that makes men double check the back pocket. How many people have continuously looked over their shoulder when he was walking behind them after dark while he was simply headed home after work. And we all know that it gets dark pretty early here in NYC during the winter. Some days I swear it's dark at like 4:30p.m.

Long story short...I'm not saying that sometimes that little feeling in your gut isn't right about some of the creeps on the streets. However, the next time you think you have that feeling stop and ask yourself is this intuition or conditioning?