Summer is almost overah... Thank God!

Well, I don't know about you - but this summer royally sucked wind. No brahsome foreign vacations with hot chicks with accents, no tense fencing at Summer Nationals, no Summer of George with 100% less employment and 100% more drinking, no giant fraternity conferences and the attending parties after dark. Just work, sleep, more work, and lots of "holy crap for crap" I need to hit the gym moments. Which also explains why you haven't seen a whole lot of very cool blog posts from me. Hell, here is a recap of the last six summers.





Summer 2002 - Ibiza, Spain


Summer 2003 - Dallas, TX


Summer 2004 - Minneapolis, MN


Summer 2005 - Myvatn, Iceland


Summer 2005 - New Orleans, LA


Summer 2006 - Atlanta, GA


Summer 2007 - Deadspin at Turner Field - Atlanta, GA


This summer (not me pictured, but representative)


Not to say the summer has been uneventful - Atlanta nightlife and party scene always offers something - but nothing too insane this time around. The biggest news this month for me is the discovery of a hip scene called Bricktown in Oklahoma City. Exciting! It even features a bar and grill owned by Toby Keith! But other than that, pretty much routine.

This is also not to say that I don't appreciate being a critical member of my team at work who finds it difficult to take even a single day of uninterrupted vacation. I get it, it is part of the life - a life I want to enjoy (the money helps too). And while I lived it up during the Summer of George (see link and above), the piper came calling that next winter and spring.

Still, I miss the days of half day Fridays where I could lay out by the pool at 2pm, or had the leisure time to work out three times a day during the week. These days, organization, self discipline, sacrifice, and the Blackberry rule the day. At least I am getting paid for it.

Better still, fall brings SEC football and the glory of the NFL, free booze parties, and patio events with women in sexy sundresses and weather that doesn't leave me dripping after five minutes. Autumn rules!

Killing My Tastebuds

Good taste is a delicate thing. The ability to taste the subtle notes in a 10 year old merlot, the interplay of cayenne and coconut in good Thai, or enjoy the homemade greens just like Mom used to make is a special thing.

Sometimes I wonder if I lost my sense of taste. I was at Dixie Tavern with friends last Thursday, and ordered the extra hot wings. Everyone warned me they were heavy duty, but I ignored them. The wings tasted mildy spicy to me, but not at all. Then I accidently touched my eye, and had visions of the drive-by pepperspraying I got in downtown Reykjavik. The intense itching, the sweating, the feeling of capsaicin and salty tears burning its way down my face. Thankfully, the eyes also lose their sensitivity to hot spices over time.

Even though the burning has subsided, it makes me wonder - is it really true you can have too much of a good thing? Would years of traffic cause the yellow brick road to lose its lustre? What a pity if it were possible to pan a well cooked filet or quality Beluga caviar because you've had it so many times before.

It Had To Happen Sometime

Everybody has dating dealbreakers. Even me. Rules that are in place to stop you from dealing with someone who has problems that you don't need to absorb. No matter how hot he/she is, these rules are immutable and are for your own protection.

There are the obvious ones... must look good, must have job, disease free, must not be nor ever have been a prostitute, must not be into anything overly weird like sounding or pegging, must not be uber duber super freak, etc.

But as a black man who dates all races, I never thought about adding this one: "must not be direct descendant of slave owners." I suppose it was only a matter of time given that I live and socialize in the South. Still, when I was looking over a magazine with a white woman I was out with and she pointed out a local as someone whose ancestor her family may have owned - I was kinda blindsided. It was the emotional equivalent of a major injury - the nerves deactivate themselves allowing you to get to help only to bring the pain once you are under care.

How do you process something like that? How do you bring it up again? Why, as a slave owner descendant, would you bring it up if you aren't proud of it? Even Strom Thurmond preferred to forget that he shares that sinister connection to Rev. Al Sharpton. It begs a lot of uncomfortable questions that have even less digestible answers.

Yikes.

I DON'T SEE NOTHING WRONG!!!! R KELLY ACQUITTED!

From Yahoo! News...

5 minutes ago

CHICAGO - A Chicago jury has acquitted R. Kelly on all counts at his child pornography trial.

Absolutely fantastic... FEEL IT for the R! I am dancing in my office right now... doing the love slide...

"My mind is telling me no, but my BODY, MY BODY IS TELLING ME YESS..." My body has a good lawyer, I must CON FESESSESSSSS, to you.

Catching Up

Summer has been poppin' here in the ATL, so I haven't been around long enough to write anything. Here is a quick recap...

• With beer festivals and wine tastings every week, it is a real wonder that the whole town is not filled with alcoholics. It is even a bigger wonder that the government bothers with Blue Laws in the first place. Everyone already knows to stock up.
• Chick volleyball players are tall. I mean real tall. I hung out with four of them during Atlanta's AVP weekend, and I felt like I was in downtown Chicago on a clear day. Lots of pretty things to see, but at some point you'll get tired of craning your neck. Having pretty girls rub my bald head is one thing, but it was weird she reached down to do it.
• A flowing lowcut sundress is the hottest thing an attractive girl can wear besides a bikini or nothing at all. Virginia Highland's Summerfest had sundressed girls out in force last weekend.
• I met a girl who plays on the offensive line for Atlanta's all-female tackle football team. She's kinda cute and not built like a freight train, but I still felt weird. So after discussing the play mix they run, I asked about the cheerleaders.

More to come...

An Oldie But A Goodie

I wrote this after having one of the most uncomfortable conversations in my entire life. I was checking my email in a hotel room during a fraternity conference, and a bunch of guys and one girl (all white) stopped by looking for alcohol (we had none).

Anyway, one of the guys asked me if I was looking at porn. From what I remember, I was not - just checking the email. Strangely, the conversation turned to specific types of porn, and one of the guys started singing the praises of interracial porn. This guy started talking in detail about how he loved watching big black guys rail these little white girls, and other guys just jumped in in agreement. I felt like just walking out - except of course, it was my room. I looked at the girl (someone's girlfriend), and she looked at me with a strange look I was not willing to decipher. Eventually, my roommate kicked everyone out, and I penned the story below.

It's relatively funny, completely offensive and Rated R.
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I'm Your One Black Friend!

What’s up dogg? Ha, just kidding man. Thank God it’s Friday. How’s the job? Mine is boring too, until I see Sheila from accounting with her fine white ass and big white titties. Come on man, you guys have monopolized the Vanilla Sky for too long. Is the game on? No, I meant the hockey game. Dumbass.

Still looking for a girlfriend? No wonder, you look like a chump. A plaid shirt and hunting boots make you look like a serial killa, not a tru playa. Let me change your wardrobe. Let’s get you some looser fitting slacks and an ungodly loud shirt, and accessorize with a chain and a nice watch. Now you won’t be able to keep the women off you.

Now that you are looking fly, let's go out to the dance club!. Awesome, we're just in time for the blackout! Let’s go on the dance floor. What, you can’t dance? Come on, go out there… give it a shot! Ok, ok, wow, lets go back… what were you doing out there? You looked like an albino flamingo having a seizure. No wonder you can’t get any women. Rather than dance, just kinda nod your head to the beat, like its good music, but you are too cool to be bothered. Then when a girl wants to dance, you just kinda let her do her thing in front of you – you play your cards right, all you gotta do is grab her hips every now and again when she grinds on you. How do I know all this? What black guy doesn’t know all this?

No, you can’t say the N-word, I don’t care how cool it is. Even if it is in a rap song. Well, just once. Yeah, you’re my nigga too. Don’t worry, if anyone says anything, just tell them your one black friend said its ok.

While you are at the bar, why don’t you get me a Hypnotiq and Hennessy. Get yourself one too. Yes, it looks and tastes like a blend of antifreeze and motor oil, but Juvenile likes it so it must be good. At least it tastes better than that 40oz Colt 45 you gave me before we left your place. Nobody who has money drinks that shit.

Look’s like you are doing better out there, I hope you get that brunette’s phone number you were grinding on. Where’s the blonde? She just went to the bathroom… she is really digging me man, and if I am lucky, I will be digging her too. She’s totally coo-coo for cocoa puffs. It’s all your fault anyway. You white people worked so hard to keep your sisters and daughters away from black men for so long, the whole white female sex is just overcome by curiosity. Do you think Seal got Heidi Klum because of his rugged good looks? Haha, don’t worry… you white boys still have the Asian strange sewed up. Ok, this is not the proper context to use the N-word.

Hey, thanks for giving me and Sarah a ride to my place. Yeah, I’m sorry you had to see that in your rearview mirror – but you said earlier you liked downloading interracial porn off the internet, so I figured it was ok. I am sure those love stains will come right off the leather with a little soap and water. At least now you have something to talk about in your diversity training class on Monday.

It was good hanging out with you, see you next year!

Why You Should Stop Whining About Big Oil

It's easy to blame high gas prices on the evil oil companies. But after enduring a dramatic upturn in the bitching and moaning market from politicians, the media, and people on the street, I would like to present to you the actual facts, and let you decide the truth:

http://www.energy.ca.gov/gasoline/margins/index.html
This is California government's assessment of what goes into the price of a gallon of gas. Currently, 25 cents per gallon goes to the costs of refining, distributing, and marketing, and big oil profits. Yes, these "windfall" profits are less than 25 cents per gallon, after you take out what it costs oil companies to maintain refineries, transport goods, and sell their product. This total has in fact gone down, from about 50 cents two months ago. Total taxes amount to about 66 cents, and the bulk of the price per gallon is due to the market price of crude oil (primarily determined by OPEC). So for all the complaining politicians do, they are taking a bigger cut of your money than oil companies are.

http://cbs2chicago.com/politics/gas.prices.taxes.2.729939.html
While 66 cents per gallon represents the average tax total in California, in my city of Chicago, taxes make up 20% of the total cost, up to 80 cents. The upturn in gas prices is actually a boon to the governor of Illinois, because it means he can take more of my money to buy off his bookie and mob contacts. This article includes a classy quote from Dick Durbin, the second biggest pussy from Illinois in the U.S. Senate, asking oil company execs, "Does it trouble any of you when you see what you're doing to us?", despite knowing full well that the feds and the government of his own state make more money on gas than oil companies do.

http://auto.howstuffworks.com/gas-price.htm
An easy-to-read and non-politically-motivated primer on how gas prices are determined. A must-read if you think you have any right to complain about how much you're paying for gas.

So how can gas prices be reduced? We can take away oil company profits, which will probably save you a few cents per gallon, and in return destroy any chance of future innovation in the development and delivery of new fuel. We can take away gas taxes, saving you up to 80 cents per gallon (although probably less, since tax cuts will be shared between the consumer and the producer). We can negotiate with OPEC to increase supply, which has never worked. We can open up new avenues of supply, like ANWR, once we get over our fear of forcing a few dozen caribou to move to Canada. Or you can stop driving by yourself 100 miles a day to and from work, you suburbanite whore. The choice is up to you.