A few years ago when Denzel Washington decided to be an actor in the remake of the Manchurian Candidate, I would attempt make my guest interested in the movie. My tactic involved fast forwarding to the scene where his character plugged a bullet into the heads of his storyline’s soldiers. This worked maybe thirty percent of the time. I had to face the reality that people didn’t want to mix thought into their entertainment. Much like religion, the people that I dealt with would rather not add critical thinking into the miasma of emotional sensation. As I’ve grown older, I have learned that people only talk like they are intelligently processing life, in reality, they are simply doing what they deem popular.
As I work through many of my childhood traumas, I am forced to accept the fact that many people would rather indulge in frivolity because it popular than to do that which is anti-popular notion. Even those that have spent thousands upon thousands of dollars for paper work that announces to the world:”This person can critically think!” What has occurred is that paper work is chucked away for more paperwork, and only valuable when those with paper deem it valuable. It would seem that my childhood of boosting clothes and selling drugs for status symbols was an accurate disposition. But no way, right? There is no way that my criminal behaviors and social irresponsibility could ever find a correlate to the moral high horse riders. There could be no possible indication that my nights tossing crack rock on the ground for a few laughs could ever be met by those with higher degrees and those that always voice their opinion about ethics. Right?
As my years begin to take a toll on my previous athletic capabilities, I still notice a certain hypocrisy. While those that yell in our ears about voting, and the same ones that spent countless hours pushing Barack Obama watch a television show financed by a man that supported John McCain, the little devil on my left shoulder laughed. She shook her head and said,”See, all that shit they said about you didn’t mean a muthaphuck.” As the show progressed, and my twitter stream became a campaign for BET, the little devil laughed harder. She reminded me how much those that have cursed my name out in public because of misogyny were now watching a show filled with the taunts of limited Black beauty standards and elitist notions. The devil pointed out how many who defend Barack without reading ONE bill that he has signed, were deeply engaged in a show executively produced by Kelsey Grammar. The devil laughed her little ass off.
I wanted to shut the devil up, she always has this way of reminding me of my later teens, and how I used to trick people into giving me money for my drug addictions. And now, as I look at people that earlier called one another coons and sambos watch a show that was full of cooning and sambo-alotry…I was stutterstuck. Did these intelligent people not know who had produced the show? Where they completely oblivious as to the politics behind this show airing on BET? Was the dearth of Black television on Black Entertainment Television so much that they would be willing to support a show that promoted images not much different that Wacka Flocka and Gucci? Was it so important to just have Black actors in front of their face that they’d indulge in a modern day Step N’ Fetchit? Are middle class Blacks that distant from their urban counterparts that they have to watch a caricaturized version of their own people filtered through white america to feel “Black”?
Am I being too serious? Am I being too deep? Am I doing too much here? If the Republican party says “neither” with too much of an accent these same people would be in an uproar and yet we pour so much energy into a show entitled The Game. Do we not know what the game really is? We love to theorize as to why young Blacks pretend to be dumb, and why Blacks don’t excel in science, and yet we fill the quota for racists producers who present us as money hungry, materialistic athletes with no more intelligence than baboon with their ass out. We speak as though we know, while behaving as if we don’t.
The devil just showed me a guy with a package and a way to rob him. I’m attempting my best to listen to better reason, but my colleagues don’t seem to be able to produce good enough examples as to why I shouldn’t prey on the weak…