@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. VII

institutionalized racism restricts #blackmen from getting jobs, but its also true #blackpeople r sometimes loath & lethargic on the job.

#blackpeople n corporate america notice the white women & asians working late n2 the night, u go home at 5:30PM then complain about a raise

#blackpeople corporate america will never tell us this but they think we r lazy, inarticulate & ineffective which is sometimes true.

This tweet explanation came to mind thinking about my last 5 year stint working a job in which I was motivated to stay and work late, take on more responsibility at the job in an effort to get promoted. When my girlfriend would call me at 7 PM and I told her I was still at work, she’d quickly rebuff, “why are you still at work?” And when I’d have conversations with the few Black American people on the job about how late I stayed a particular night or was going to stay, as we chatted while I was going to get something to eat as they were on their way home at 5:00PM/5:30PM, they’d all spit out a well-known dictum within the Black American community, “they ain’t workin’ me like a slave.”

I began to think of my CFO and how he’d be on the job 9PM/10PM at night walking around jovially speaking with his executive peers, also working late. I thought of the articles I’d read where Congressman were called to meetings 11:30PM – 3AM in the morning to get some bill pushed through to the Senate. I thought of stories I read about CEOs working 16 hour days 80 to 100 hours a week or CPAs working for the Big 4 accounting firms who reported working the same amount of hours during busy tax and quarterly income statement preparation and audit season for clients. I thought of the question, “how is it possible to work that many hours in a 5 day week? I summed it up that they work on weekends and/or from home to come up with these ridiculous hour counts. I thought of how much these individuals got paid; some $1Mill a year, other $250K-$500K a year. CPAs often work 2 to 4 years at a CPA firm making $40K – $65K, then go to a corporate company as a senior accountant or accounting manager and are put on a track to make $90K – $150K; $40K to $150 respectively in 5 to 6 years.

When I walked around the office during my latest time of working at 9PM, I’d rarely see any Black Americans working at that hour. But I would see many of the Black Americans gathered at the elevator between 5;00PM/5:30PM. I spoke with one young woman and asked does she ever work late. She quickly replied no and that, “it’s not about working longer or harder but about working smarter.” I asked her where she wanted to be in 5 years, she said to have her MBA and be within a management position in her current field. I then asked her, “don’t you think that is going to require you to work longer hours?” She said, “yes, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.” I also asked, “do you hope to get a nice raise at the end of this year of working for our current company?” She quickly blurted out an emphatic yes. While some of the younger Caucasian individuals went home at the sound of the clock striking 5PM as well, there were also quite a few who were around at 7PM – 9PM.

Apres 2007/2008 when thinking about hard work, I often think of Barack Obama and that he, a Black American man (though he’s half White American) was not supposed to win the Democratic Presidential nomination in 2008, especially over a White American woman candidate, Hillary Clinton whose husband Bill Clinton was already a proven great Democratic American President. But yet, not only did Obama win the nomination, he won the presidency by a landslide over John McCain in November 2008. I think it took tremendous emotional fortitude to stay the course and move forward to become The United States of America’s first, so-called, Black American president; he is, after all, half White American.

Once I saw this feat being accomplished by Barack Obama of being the democratic representative to run for office, is when I decided to study to take my CPA Exam, an exam which only 40% of candidates who sign up to take it, pass; the numbers are even more abysmal among the Black American candidates who sign up and take the exam. Every road block I came to in studying for the CPA Exam I thought of Barack Obama and the adversity he overcame to become the presidential nominee and eventually president; he and Michael Phelps. The tireless work ethic it took to accomplish what those two individuals accomplished that year of 2008 was a mammoth and colossal aberration from the status quo. Passing the CPA Exam was the hardest I’d ever worked in my entire life.

As I studied, passing and failing parts of the CPA Exam, and reflected upon my life and future career which I saw as being on its death bed if I didn’t pass the exam, I took a look back at my career and the careers of many White American or other Americans in Corporate America. The arduous preparation for that exam made me realize that either Black Americas are less intelligent and/or put in less work ethic than other ethnicities; a primary reason for the low passing rates among us, of not just the CPA Exam, but and seemingly (as reported in the media) any entrance type/prerequisite exam. Most CEOs of companies and those in management positions in Corporate America have their Masters In Business Administration, CPA, JD etc; Some do not have this educational training, but many do. Many Black Americans have not put in the hours of hard studying and work ethic to obtain the educational and on the job training, i.e. Malcolm Gladwell’s “Outliers” 10,000 hours, but complain about non-promotions and advancement.

I started to delve into the aspects of my career. The most of a raise I’d ever received on my professional jobs was 3%. I began to ponder why that was. I knew exactly why. It was because at the onset of my first job out of college, I wanted to be a Hip Hop producer of musical songs to rap lyrics. I left my jobs everyday a 5PM, rarely staying past 6:30PM to complete or get extra work done or asking for more responsibility on the jobs and was often times goofing off e-mailing my cousin or girlfriend all day or writing journals in Microsoft Word on my work computer. Add to that the fact I am a Black American male and there you get the lowest raise a job would offer an individual as a simple cost of living inflation raise. On my first job, I was angry about it and quickly made steps to leave. My second job, my manager gave me warning that he knew I was jerking off and that I was not carrying as much work as the rest of the team and that I should step it up and contribute more. But I really didn’t care, I was living in New York, closer to my dream of becoming a Hip Hop producer than one could get. I was leaving the job every night by 5:30PM going to my apartment to produce a beat on my ASR10 Keyboard beat machine sequencer.

I got fired from my first job in New York due to my lack of enthusiasm. I found another job 6 months later, which after my first 6 months there, I was working under a new Accounting Manager who quickly noticed my weaknesses in lacking attention to detail and was on me like white on rice. She reprimanded me for minor mistakes and tardiness. I’d get to work at 9:20AM – 9:30AM every morning as opposed to 9AM because no one ever said anything. When she did say something, from that point on I was there every morning at 8:30AM – 8:45AM and making sure during the day I covered every inch of detail of my work to doting my “I”s and crossing my “T”s. But she eventually ended up firing me anyway, on a day no less, when she checked my work, there were no mistakes and I turned it in two days early and asked her for more work to do or if she needed help on any special assignments.

After that termination, I could not find another solid job for 3 years, literally 2003 – 2006 I was unemployed. Employers would not touch me. One thing I noticed is that I was not articulating my experience well to seem very knowledgeable about accounting. I also noticed that I had a lazy drawl to my speech pattern and delivery which my current live-in girlfriend would point out to me as well. At age –, I immediately began to work on my accounting, speech and vocabulary skills; finally 3 years later I guess I perfected it and someone agreed to hire me.

To address another matter regarding why Black Americans leave at 5:30PM; after a 3 year break from work, on this new job which I was glad to receive; ready and willing to work prodigious overtime hours, I noticed that I quickly learned my job to every last detail by the first year. My supervisor did not offer me any raise, which I didn’t want or feel I needed because I was getting paid $20K more than 3 years ago. Shortly after the first year, I told the CFO that he was underutilizing my skills and I could take on more responsibility. During the same period, the company shifted part of the accounting responsibilities to a shared services group and this severely cut into my work; with not much more responsibility, I began to hang around work less frequently and leave at 5:30PM with the rest of the Black Americans and other co-workers who felt that to be an appropriate hour of egress.

When the second year on the job rolled around; I noticed a 3% increase in my paycheck. I was livid, especially after making a great contribution to the team the first year and being told so through various e-mails by the manager who hired me. I quickly requested a meeting with the CFO and Director of Accounting. In that meeting I laid out my contribution, how I had saved the company money by filing the excise tax returns in a timely manner, which they had not filed timely a few times prior, to the tune of late penalties of $15,000. I presented all the things you read in magazine articles and blogs they tell you to do and enumerate to your superior at raise negotiation time. The meeting boiled down to the CFO telling me no, I would not receive more than 3% due to certain mistakes which he could not properly detail and recapitulate to me; I’d receive another 3% in Sept, which this was now June. I tried to propose a compromise to give me the extra 3% now as a retro-pay; mind you this only added up to $1,800, which was currently less than they were paying employees for job candidate referral bonuses. Also, unbeknownst to him, I was in his office listening while he was on the phone with a department manager giving little resistance and ultimately approving of more than a 20% raise to an employee. I made up my mind at that moment I was leaving the company and started going home every day at 5:00PM. The problem with leaving the company, it was 2008 and during the time of the housing crisis economic fall-out – Mr Hank Paulson “Mr. Bailout” – and there was not a job to be found.

I tell that story because often times it is the case, even if Black Americans do play an integral part on the team and make major contributions they still get looked over for raises and/or promotions they can economically feel. To add to the story, I was seeing White American young women and men getting promoted to supervisor of their position every three to six months which I know a raise came along with as well; some of whom I did not see working late nightly hours. So a Black American sees this and can quickly become prostrated. But, it is also often the case that Black Americans are the ones who leave at 5:30PM every day, are talking loudly to friends on the company phone or their private cell phones during work hours, they get into work late and leave a little early. After putting in 1 to 2 years on the jobs they are walking around talking about how much smarter they are and should have gotten promoted or given the opportunity. While that behavior could fly for many White American men and women, Black Americans you must stop the aphorism of lethargy and stick to the saying, “we must work twice as hard to get to the same place

Jrnl Entry No. 3.31.2003

Over the weekend, I was supposed to spend it with my girlfriend but what has been happening in the last month or so is that our weekend plans have been getting botched up into arguments and us not spending the time together. See about a month before that I went on an escapade. I wasn’t feeling Watrina at the time because it always seems as if I’m the one giving her all of the attention. I love her very much and would spend most if not all my time with her if I could. I’m always trying to be around her following her like a puppy dog, and she doesn’t mind so I guess you could say that is a good thing. She could tell me to buzz off so she could do her own thing with her friends, male or female, sexual, non-sexual, whatever. But she never complains about me being there. But on the other hand she never invites me there neither. I invite myself: go to her job and meet her and then maybe we’ll go out to eat; to spend the Saturday with her and her daughter if she is not gone with her father; to spend time or the night at my house, I always ask her for these things. She never does it on her own which makes me feel like she is not that concerned at all with spending quality time with me; she can take it or leave it, it doesn’t matter. So I said, “Fuck Watrina”! I’m not asking her shit: to spend time with her, to see her, to call her.

I was kicking it with my new buddy Metaphor “Simile” “MS” Kipperton, this rapper I met on the New York Music scene who I gave some beats to and because this girl from Youngstown Ohio where I went to college at, managed him before, paid for some of his studio time; through her, he connected with me. He is well known on the scene so he gets in all of the spots for free and most of the time, would get me in for free also, so it was all cool.   We were goin’ out on Saturday night to ”CREAM”, Sunday nights to “CLUB NV” or “TIKI ROOM”, Monday nights to “LOTUS”, Tuesday nights to SESSA”. I was actually having fun, living, which ever since I got here to New York, I haven’t been living because I’ve been too broke, paying bills, or not knowing where to go in the first place.

At this point, I had stopped paying my car note, I didn’t pay half my rent for one month because my electricity was out and my landlord didn’t seem as if he was making a strong effort to get the lights back on through electrical work that he had to have done. I also stopped paying my credit card bill which was draining me of $200 a month. So I had a little money to spend. I bought me a Mitchell and Ness throw-back basketball jersey for $325.00 to have the look of the male music industry scene in at least one outfit.

I wasn’t paying Watrina too much attention. And she didn’t seem to be making a big fuss out of it until like three weeks in, after I didn’t go to her nieces birthday party that she thought I planned on attending to meet most of her whole family and plus she had a magic show by a guy that I hooked up with and my other friend Zero was there. I didn’t go. After that weekend, she started really trying to see me but I was still like no, because every time we see each other, I have to wait around for her to do something else. I wasn’t waiting anymore. If she wanted to see me, no waiting till 10 P.M. or 12 A.M. is what I was on.

After that tirade, we got back on schedule a little, except for that the two weekends after that, we planned on spending Saturday night together, but we never did. One night she claimed she went to the Bronx to party with her friends in a hole in a wall bar and didn’t have cab fare back to Queens. The next weekend, which was actually the Friday and Saturday before this day that I’m writing this; Friday she claimed she wanted to see her daughter before she would send her off the next day to her father for a day and half. So at 10 P.M. she went home and told me to call her in an hour. I went home and shaped my hair up because I had this party in mind we could go to of another music industry friend who was promoting the party and the tickets were $20.00. I called her at 11 P.M. and she was not ready, saying that her daughter wasn’t home when she got there so she didn’t want to leave yet. And she knows that at these parties and clubs in New York, that if you don’t get on line by 12 A.M., chances are you won’t get in till 2 A.M. or later and the parties are over at 4 A.M.

So this was another case where she would have me waiting around on her when she told me she would be ready. I told her to forget it I was going by myself because I knew she was not ready. She said she thought the night was about me and her not the party? Well it was until she mentioned that we could go out, and I got all excited about going out with her looking sexy and being there for this dude because he knows a few people in the music industry and he likes some of my beats and he may manage me as a producer. I never told her that is why I really wanted to go to the party. What I was gonna do was go and get the tickets and come back and pick her up but after I bitched at her about not being ready when she told me she would, which seems like a ritual with her, she said she was out of the mood. So I went alone.

I got there at 12:30 A.M. The guy didn’t arrive with the ticket until 1:30 A.M. and then he was trying to get rid of 8 tickets outside so we didn’t go into the party until 2:30 A.M., and it was cold out there and I didn’t have on a jacket so I was kind of glad she didn’t come. The party was crowded, especially in V.I.P. where we were standing. I really wasn’t feeling it. I just went to see who in the music industry I could meet, which I met no one. It’s kind of hard to meet people in the V.I.P. section flossing with bottles of champagne; at least that is what I think, so I didn’t talk to anyone.  

The most I said to someone was to this lady goin’ in and out of the bathroom with this guy. I said to her, “you better stay outta the bathroom with that gentleman.” She laughed at me and told me, “nothing happened in there; I know him.” As if I cared if she knew him or not, like I was gonna spread rumors around the neighborhood the next day.

I stayed till the party ended. I didn’t try to talk to any women because I wasn’t there for that. Talking to women is a job, and when I got my baby Watrina at home who seems, at times, to really care about me, and other times not, I don’t need to work to talk to other bitches, especially if they ain’t that cute and classy to begin with; which there wasn’t one woman who really caught my eye for me to say anything to.

I got home at 5 A.M. I wakes up at 8 A.M. to wash my clothes and my car, and take a shower to take Watrina’s daughter Queen to dance class at Alvin Alley. I was gonna wait for dance class to be over, and Queen’s father was getting her from there, and I was gonna spend the whole day and night with Watrina. When I went to pick her up, she claims she was ready but she took 10 minutes to get down stairs, which also seems like a ritual when it comes to me and she knows I hate that. I called her 8:30 A.M. and she said she would be ready at 9:45 A.M. But when the time came I was still washing my clothes and my car so I told her I’d be there at 10 A.M. I left my house at like 10:07 A.M. get to her house at 10:11 A.M. and she didn’t get downstairs till like 10:20 A.M. I thought she left and got a cab, which would have made me more heated because at times, she isn’t ready for her daughter’s 10:30 A.M. dance class and we don’t leave until 10:40 A.M., but she couldn’t wait on me? But she did wait on me and when she finally came to the door, I says in a comical way, “I was just getting ready to be like forget you, and leave.” She didn’t smile or nothing, just looked at me like I was stupid and got in the car. She continued to have this stupid look on her face as if she had an attitude with me but wasn’t gonna discuss it with me. So I say to her, “I don’t like your attitude.” I didn’t drive off either, so she says, “what, you want me to get out and take a cab?” I didn’t say nothing but again, “I don’t like your attitude.” She got out the car and took her daughter to take a cab, and I left.

I was ready for a joyous day with her and she gets into my car with a gas face. I just drove off and went home and went to sleep. Around 1 P.M. I woke up and got dressed, went and got my coat out the cleaners, and put my suit, which Watrina made for me, into the cleaners. I drove back home and was gonna go upstairs but I just sat in the car because I really didn’t want to do that. After 5 minutes or so of sitting there thinking where I could go, it hit me to go to Barnes and Nobles on 66th street in Manhattan and read Russel Simmon’s book “LIFE and DEF”. So I drove to the train station, put on my jacket and took the train there. I got the book and sat down and started reading it. I sat there for like two hours steady reading. It was an interesting read because I am a Hip Hop Head who loves Russel Simmons.

After about two hours, I purchased the book and went over to Tower Records to buy Norah Jones’ “Come Away With Me” and 50 Cent’s “Get Rich or Die tryin’” albums. I already heard the 50 album because it was Hip Hop. But Norah Jones won like 10 Grammys for this album and she and 50 had been battling for the number one Billboard top 200 chart spot ever since the Grammys were televised. I knew of Norah Jones’ hit single and I liked it, hoped the whole album would sound like that. I saw the price was $12.77 and 50 was $13.99 so I bought both of them. I really didn’t want to buy 50 since I already had a good bootleg CD copy at home. But I figured, if I’m gonna buy Norah and support her and I don’t even know what this album is, what type of music it is or nothing; I better get 50, the hottest Hip Hop album out of a New York MC since Biggie Smalls “Ready To Die.”

After I left the record store, I went to Houston’s maybe hoping to see Watrina there since she said she wanted to go there; maybe catch her with a date or something because the last like 5 weekends had not been spent with me, and the night before she was acting very suspicious about her phone and me using it and maybe checking her voicemail messages. I got to Houston’s and didn’t see Watrina. I ordered dinner, during with the appetizer I started reading Russel’s book some more, and then after dinner, waiting on them to take my plate and bring my check, I read some more. I left the restaurant and went home and put the Norah Jones album in and started to read some more.

It was like 10 P.M. The Norah Jones album was light blues, and the whole album was like that single, “Don’t Know Why.” The music was light and her light voice over the light melodies and drums was a very relaxing listen. I didn’t hear the words, just the music and her voice. I’ve listened to the album like 8 times and I still don’t know half of what she is saying on none of the songs. But I could see why America is going crazy over that album. First, it’s the music and her voice. Second, if you listen closely to the lyrics, it’s blues-like and I heard a few of the lyrics and I understand why people are crazy for it. I know music of all genres, trust me, and she deserves every one of those Grammys she got.

So at this point around 10:45 P.M., I called Watrina for the third time of the day to smooth things over to see if she would come to my house for the night. She didn’t answer her cell phone. I figured because she was mad at me and also she was going out by herself, with girlfriends or a male. She didn’t call me back neither.

After realizing that I’d read over half of Russel’s book, I put it down, shut my ringer off my phone and went to bed because I was tired from only getting like 4 hours of sleep that whole night and day before. The Russel book told the story I already knew about starting Def Jam, RUN DMC, PHAT FARM, DEF COMEDY JAM, ending the distribution deal with Sony, signing with Polygram, Lyor Cohen, Russel’s model dating. What I didn’t know was that he took drugs like he did. He gave a few business pointers, life pointers, race pointers, etc.

I got up the next day and put the Norah Jones album on again and cleaned up my apartment. I still had my phone ringer off because I was mad that Watrina hadn’t spent the night with me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Eventually around 1 P.M. I turned my ringer on and went about my daily business. I went back to sleep, I got up and got dressed, did some push-ups and sit-ups. I started to cook some steak and potatoes and green beans for myself. I also started to read the Russel book some more.

Now this whole day I was contemplating just breaking up with Watrina because it’s been three years and we have been going through this shit the whole time. It’s really getting tired and old, and I just want to stop the relationship because it seems like all we do, every other weekend is be mad about something. Finally after finishing the book, finishing eating, I decided to call Watrina to talk to her and smooth over this rough edge of a weekend we had. All day I had been thinking about not calling her at all but I broke down.

See what I mean, I’m always the one, making all the effort to call, to spend time together, etc. I called her and asked her, “what are you thinking about me right now?” She had nothing to say. I was looking for her to say, that either she loved and missed me or she wants to break up. She said nothing. So we started going into the weekend issue and she had a little sass and chutzpah in her voice and speech. Let me tell you, “if a bitch is being hard with you and edgy, and unsympathetic, it says that she is tired of the situation or that she is tired of the situation and on top of that, she is fucking someone else.”  

Watrina hasn’t spent really good quality time with me in a month and the last two weekends, she has disappeared on me. At the end of the conversation, because she didn’t say that she wanted to break up, I said, “forget it, drop it. I want to see you.” She said she had to braid her daughter’s hair and she would call me back and didn’t know if she would see me or not. An hour and a half later, after she was in the bed half sleep, she called me. She tells me that she is not coming over because she should have been over last night; like that was all my fault. I called her three times during the day and she never answered her phone and didn’t call me later that night. So I bid her a good night and hung up the phone on her ear slightly. I tried to call her back 10 minutes later to tell her I was trying to smooth things over and she was playing games of you-did, who-did. I called her like 7 times and she didn’t pick up the phone, playing games, but of course she is gonna tell me that she was sound asleep in 10 minutes after getting off the phone with me knowing that I was angry at her for not wanting to come over. So I left her a message that, “this relationship is over! What is wrong with trying to smooth things over by spending some time together and forgetting about Friday and Saturday, and you fucked that up on Sunday. Fuck You! I’m going out to find me another bitch to fuck since you don’t want to come over.”

I went to the TIKI ROOM and chilled; met Metphor and Zero there. I was pollyin’ about music, not concerned about bitches. I met this guy who I’d been looking at for a month now who looks like he is in the music industry. Turns out he is down with DJ CLUE and Dessert Storm and works in the Sony building down the block from where I work. I met this female “Combination” whom I’d seen around at Justin’s Restaurant on Tuesday Industry Nights, and other places like two years prior, and Metaphor said she was a rapper. I met this other guy whose face I always recognize. He managed Uncle Sam, a fallen-off R&B Singer, and a few other groups or singers who have all fallen off. I left around 2:45 A.M. drunk off Hennessy and Grand Marnier.

My mind was still made up that I’d broken up with Watrina. I called her when I woke up at 7:30 A.M. to tell her that I’m bringing her leather she bought to make me a leather suit, and her mother’s plate. She tells me to bring it later. I told her I was bringing it now. She asked, “is it that serious?” I said “Yeah, it’s that serious!” She obviously hadn’t gotten my message. When I got to her house I asked had she gotten it. She said yes, not to argue in front of her father. I told her to her face, “this relationship is over, it’s no good.” She nodded her head, handed me the stuff she’d bought for my daughter from the GAP and I left. It was over in my mind. When I got to work, she called at 10 A.M. telling me that she is coming over my house tonight, so I’m just gonna have to let her in because she is gonna be there. I told her, “don’t come and I’m not saying it’s alright because I’m not gonna do like you, always say something and then don’t do it or be late doing it.” She hung up because she was entering the train station. She called me later saying, “we shouldn’t break up. We have a nice family, and we get along together.” All of which is true, even the part about us not breaking up. I love what we have, truly, but it seems that she doesn’t love it as much as I do, or maybe I don’t love as much as I say I do because we keep having these bullshit arguments, I’m tired of them and I want out! She wants to take some time apart but still be together. I don’t believe in that shit because if you need time apart, stay apart, which we can’t seem to make it together, so maybe we should be apart.

@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. VI

stop treating other black people when they approach u as if they r incompetent. stop ignoring other black people whenwant to work 4 u

black people u must go about running ur small business with an initiative for future black social change.

black people if u own a small business u can find a black cpa through NABA & if u type in black lawyers association on the web many pop up

some1 said “i’ll never switch from my russian, guy he saves me money.” black slaves saved america money, but america isn’t loyal 2 us. Hmmm!

This tweet was born out of my fantasy that when I passed the CPA Exam, as a Black American CPA, I’d be able to walk up to any Black American business owner, Black American celebrity, Black American NBA/NFL player, Black American rapper and have a brief conversation with them bestowing the knowledge that I was a Black American CPA, pass them my card, we’d exchange information and the person would automatically become a client. My line of thinking was that individual Black American professionals would be delighted to work with other competent, affable, congenial and convivial Black American professional individuals to handle their business matters.

Once I moved to New York, I found a Black American doctor and a Black American dentist. I think of Chris Rock’s comedy skit: “The only Black people who live in my neighborhood are Jay Z, Mary J. Blige and me. Across the street lives a dentist. You know what a Black American dentist would have to do to live in my neighborhood? HE WOULD HAVE HAD TO CREATE TEETH!” This wouldn’t be necessarily true if all of the Black American elite music and movie celebrities, as well as sports stars who live in New York or pass through on assignment would go visit Catrisse Williams, VIP Smiles for their 6 month cleaning or cosmetic dental work. It should be automatic. But Black American people do not think like this.

When I first passed my CPA Exam it was NFL Draft night 2011. I had printed up some make shift cards with the name of my CPA firm and phone number on them. I went and snuck into GreenHouse night club on the corner of Vandam and Varrick Street. As soon as I hit the entrance door to the club, I was looking Shaunie O’neal and Evelyn Lazoda right smack in the face. I had seen Shaunie O’neal earlier in the day at the Converse store on Broadway in SoHo on my lunch break from work.

I thought to approach her, as I felt pretty confident in my outfit, intelligence and articulation, but didn’t have a speech exactly prepared to speak about the subject of becoming her CPA, and plus she had a friend with her so I let the opportunity pass.

In the club I was armed with cards to pass them out to people in VIP and trying to make deals with the pretty ladies in VIP to connect with the guys with money for a commission; with the music blaring, they either could not hear me or had no clue what I was talking about. I approached a few guys who appeared to have money or were brawny enough to be new NFL draftees or current players in the league standing directly inside the section off from the VIP area; they nodded their heads, took my card and went about their way. I made my way over to speak briefly with Shaunie, as I was too afraid to tell her I was a CPA who’d like to work for her, I simply asked her had she noticed me in the Converse store earlier that day. She said something back to me which I could not hear, we smiled at each other and that was that. I had also passed a card to Evelyn Lazoda and said something to the effect of, “I’m a CPA, take my card. I want to make sure you and Ochocinco don’t go broke.” She looked at me in stupefaction, took the card, I bid her a nice night and that was that. Shaunie’s boyfriend at the time was a light skinned young model. She was in the Converse store that day purchasing black Chuck Taylor sneakers for him that he had on his feet that night. I talked with him in the hallway leading to the entrance/exit about being his CPA. He sold me the story that his agency takes care of that business for him. I next bumped right into and gave a card to the boxer Zab Juda, he looked at me as if I was stupid or he didn’t know what I was talking about. At one point, I was standing next to a guy who had on a diamond necklace, I think his name was Pierre. He was in ear shot of me and we could hear each other very well, he said to me, “I have about three CPAs who work for me.” He took my card. I saw him later at the diner on 23rd St. driving a metallic blue S550 Benz AMG, getting out of the car clearly inebriated. I spoke with him once more and showed concern for his safety, which Pierre assured me, he would be OK. He was the guy I had most contact with that night in passing inside the club and at the diner. I never heard from him.

It seems as if on the surface, Black American people take other Black American professionals (CPAs, Lawyers) for granted as not knowing how to handle business. I have asked many Black American business owners in Bed-Stuy the, “whose your CPA?” question. A partner of the Therapy Wine Bar, told me someone they’ve used for 16 years whom I found out was some guy out in Benson Hurst Brooklyn, NY of all places; a place where a Black American man couldn’t mistakenly be caught in the neighborhood or he would be beat, occasionally to death, as was Yusef Hawkins in 1989. One partner of the Voudou Bar said they use some Russian guy who specialized in bars and that he saved them so much money in setting up the POS system, etc, and went into how they wouldn’t have time for me to learn their business and/or make mistakes; therefore they would never hire me as the main CPA of the bar that I’d supported with my dollars as a patron, as does many other Black American persons in the neighborhood, simply because it’s Black American owned. They would not grant a Black American CPA the same courtesy their business was thriving on. Of course this conversation was taking place on a Saturday night, with me being full of liquid courage (though, I do not think the person knew that) and I have not had a chance to initiate a formal meeting; I’ll let you know how that goes.

I recently read a book called “how to get anyone to SAY YES, in 8 minutes”. What I learned is that when persons are approached by someone they are not familiar with or have no prior relationship, their automatic unconscious response to any offer you make to them is repulsion. People do not know they behave in this fashion; this, on the surface explains why when approaching celebrities or sports players in a club, they are befuddled by my approach and I never hear from them. The NBA/NFL trains athletes to be on guard for people who try and sell them on business investments or financial advisement services, (not absolutely sure if they train them to be leery of Black American people; but looking at how adamantly they tried to convince LeBron James to not let his close, past high school state championship bound, team mates/friends handle his business affairs, I wouldn’t doubt it). Even with the hermetic club scenery and training of freshly minted millionaires to be on guard, I have read of many financial advisors, CEOs of hedge funds and stock brokers meeting clients sitting next to a pool on vacation or in a country club, being handed brochures out the trunk of a person’s car and later following up to do significant business with that person. So while it’s understood about the unconscious response, shouldn’t there also be an override to get to a positive response, at least to exchange telephone numbers and let the person work to set up a proper meeting, when approached by someone from your own race, whom you know is limited in opportunity and resources, whom you share many cultural traits and shibboleths, seemingly intelligent and articulate with enough nerve and chutzpah and ingenuity to approach you; at the very least, a hustler, grinding to make his/her life legally better?

I have tried to get persons I’ve been associated with all my teenage years and the bulk of my adult life, from my hometown where I grew to get me a meeting with NFL players they were directly related to in reference to being their CPA or giving me a reference to another rookie player or just giving me tips as to what they expect out of their professional CPA who handles their tax filings or financial management. I was granted no such meetings nor spoke with the players to receive no such advice or references.  No other race behaves in this manner and it is a PURE SHAME and lack of intelligence and non-support on our part as a race perpetually discriminated against by every other race within America.

As the population continues to grow within America, as immigrants legal and illegal enter the country with their hunger for survival and – find a needle in a haystack – work ethic, and government relief (Welfare and Affirmative Action) roles continue to get smaller and/or non-existent, it is imperative we as Black American people, especially those of us who are entrepreneurs do business with one another, establish scholarships to put our children (especially young men) through universities, teach them through interning and apprenticeship and hire them into long-term gainful employment positions. For Black American people and Black American men to survive, going forward, there must be an effort to trust in the education and work ethic of ourselves; even switching out the professional services that were sought upon persons of other races and replacing them with future growing professionals of our own race and culture. It is not a matter of reverse discrimination, but a matter of survival and a reprove to a system that has always treated us unfairly and will continue to do so. An interpolation of a lyric by Phife from A Tribe Called Quest in which he said, “Ego, I’m on my own jock still / cause if I don’t say I’m the best  / tell me who the hell will” (“Word Play” Beats Rhymes and Life album) I say “BLACK AMERICAN PEOPLE  / we must be on our own jock still / cause If we don’t say we the best, tell me who the hell will?” NO ONE!

Jrnl Entry No. 1.17.2003

I’ve just decided that I am not working today. We get off at three o’clock in celebration of Martin Luther Da King Holiday. Today is my mother’s – Birthday. She just got out of the hospital for infectious blood, causing blood clots in her pelvic area hindering her ability to walk. She was just in the hospital for two months. I went to see her a month ago and ruined my Christmas vacation days but I guess you have to do those type of things you know.

My Christmas was nothing to brag about. I was invited over to my girlfriend’s house for dinner with her father and her daughter. Her mother was at work and her aunt who stays there was at another relative’s house so they filled the void with me. Any other time I’m not allowed to step foot in the apartment.

My New Years was alright. I met this girl by the name of Evette the Saturday before New Years at a party my friend threw at the Supper Club in Manhattan. She looked nice at the party in black pants and a white top. She seemed as if she was skinny. She is my age or a little older and she is a teacher. I was mad at my girlfriend at the time. She hadn’t called me in like three days. I went to Evette’s brother’s house to a little corny New Years house party. When I first saw her brother I originally thought that he was gay. I came to find out that he was far from gay, but maybe a little in the closet bi-sexual. He had two kids, a boy and a girl, and a sexy ass fiancé. His fiancé was short and light skinned, short length hair, and had a big round ole ass that I was staring at all night.

Evette was all corny looking in some corny jeans, a corny little top with her stomach out which was not toned; not really fat, but just not toned. She was a little heavier than what I originally thought at the club though. She had on some corny sneaker shoes that she may have picked up from one of those $39.99 stores on 125th St. in Harlem. We danced a little at the party and drank a little. At 3 A.M. I left. She must did not like me neither because we haven’t talked again after that night.

I crossed the Tri-Boro Bridge. I gave some white guy begging to pay the toll to take him over the bridge, a ride. I probably shouldn’t have done that. He could have killed me but I took a chance. He just wanted a ride, not to have to take a long train ride to get to the same place right across the bridge.

I went to Astoria Projects where my girlfriend lives and said she’d be over her friend’s house getting drunk for the night. I called her to find that she was at the Project Juice bar at a neighborhood party. I told her that I was coming there. I went and they tried to front and not let me in the door like it was some fancy club in Manhattan. I called her back and told her to come outside since they wouldn’t let me in. She told the guy at the door to let me in. They were charging $10.00 to get in there and I paid it; a free drink came with the $10 entrance fee. I went to the bar to try and get a Hennessy and Remy Martin drink. The guy told me that mixed drinks don’t come free with his stupid ass. He should know that Hennessy cost more than Remy Red so his overhead would have been cheaper if he would have mixed the drink than just give me straight Henny which is what I asked for after he told me that stupid shit.

The party was alright, full of all the hood rats, men and women from the neighborhood. Bonet, Watrina’s friend was there with her, and she was in the mood to dance. She was bobbing her head to the music. She had on this red outfit and was looking corny to me because it didn’t fit her body right and tight, or maybe she just doesn’t have a body like that. When we got outside later that night, I realized that the outfit was an Echo Red velour suit. She had on some blue and white Tims with it and it just didn’t go.

Watrina was in a dancing mood. We started dancing; me, her and Bonet. Watrina left me to go and dance with someone else she knew from the hood. I just chilled in the area where we were standing. I noticed every time she turned around the guy she was dancing with would purposely move his pelvis forward to put his dick on her ass. One time, he was pointing at her ass as she turned around. I didn’t trip. He was drunk, oh well. Another time she danced with another guy and he was doing the same thing when she turned around right there in front of my face. When she got done dancing with him, I told her, “please don’t put your ass on niggaz dicks in front of me.” She was like, “chill, I’m in my neighborhood.” I just repeated myself because I see these corny ass mutha fuckaz pushing their dick out every time she turned around. I didn’t mind her dancing, but the grinding shit had to go. I told her that I could go home if that is what she wanted to do. She went over and started dancing with some other guy. I saw her being a little more careful about him putting his dick on her ass. But I wasn’t really paying her any attention at that point.

I was sitting there chilling and some drunk lady came over telling me how good I looked, that I couldn’t be from around Astoria, etc. I danced with her and she wanted me to grind on her, but I don’t believe in pushing my dick on no bitch ass but the bitch I am fucking. If a bitch turn around and she puts her ass on my dick like this girl was doing, I just dance normal and do my thing. But these niggaz dancing with Watrina were like, once she turned around, running to grind on her ass. Her friend Ney, when she heard me telling Watrina to stop putting her ass on niggaz dicks in front of me, started screaming out, “don’t be the jealous boyfriend, she is going home with you tonight,”

When Watrina saw that one girl grinding on me she came over there to break that shit up. The girl was telling her that I loved her (Watrina) because I wouldn’t grind her ass and I had told her that I was there with Watrina. The night went smoothly. Watrina’s friend Temeace, whom Watrina thinks I like, showed up and we danced a little. There wasn’t but one bitch other than Watrina that I would have talked to in there that night. Some dark skinned shorty with a weave in her hair, a little fat ass, etc. I should have talked to her when Watrina left after our short argument and she went to dance with another guy, whom they were in each other’s ear for a minute.

Watrina does what she does but when I do the same shit she gets mad and bitch about it just like I do. She really doesn’t know how to handle this serious relationship which is what I think we have. But she is learning. I love her and want to work with her to make it work because I think we can have a good future together.

I had to leave her by herself in a club last week. She was acting like she didn’t want to be there with me so I went off by myself to do my thing. She was complaining from the moment she stepped out of the car; about her feet, she didn’t have any money. When we got inside she didn’t take off her coat. She moved from sitting with me because she said she wanted to get out of this lighted area where we were sitting. Maybe she didn’t want somebody, one of her friends to spot her there with me. I don’t know, but I wasn’t feeling at all that she wanted to be there with me. When I came back to meet with her because it seemed to me that she was gonna sit there all night, she was gone. I searched the club for her and didn’t find her. I went outside and called her and left a message on her machine and I went home. She didn’t call me Saturday.

Saturday night Carol Ann, whom I’ve been fucking with the whole time I’ve known Watrina; she called and I went to her house in Jersey and spent the night. I didn’t come home till the next night like 9 P.M. I then went to the TIKI ROOM, this Sunday night spot that is free to get into. I buy me a French Connection “Grand Marnier and Hennessy and I usually chill, talk to a few honey’s that I view as worthy of me stepping to them, and try to meet people in the music industry. This night I met my man Zero and we were chillin’ and talking. He bought me a second drink so I was real drunk after that. I was following this little short sexy dark skinned young lady by the name of Kim around. I probably could have gotten with her but by the end of the night I was so drunk I left and had forgotten all about her, as I did the week before, about this girl from Harlem whose number I thought I could have gotten. She was dark skinned and thick.

I’ve met a few people at the TIKI ROOM. I met Rockwilder there and talked to him about Hip Hop Production. I met Yogi of the one album group, “CRU”. He produced that whole album and I thought it was incredible. I met Pharoach Monche also. I tried to talk to him about getting a track on his album since he said he was working on it. He said it was finished though. They say they are gonna charge to get in the TIKI ROOM next week. It’s a cool spot and I like it so I’ll pay $10 to get in, definitely not $20 though.

I’ve been goin’ out every since the holidays, spending money that I don’t have. My electric is out in my apartment and I am not paying my landlord no money till he fix that shit. It’s been out for a month now. So I’ve been spending the rent money. I’m about to spend this half I got now on a trip to Atlanta for the All Star Weekend. I asked Watrina to send me but I don’t think she is. I guess she doesn’t want to feel like she is playing herself by sending me on a party trip. I told her that I would like to see my father which I would since I haven’t seen him in like 4 years. I’ma have to ask her again.

Watrina spends so much money I don’t see what is wrong with her spending a little on me. She bought me two pair of jeans for Christmas the day after Christmas from The Atrium. She took me shopping with her. She bought herself three pair of A.G. Jeans. I forget the name of the designer, but those are the initials. The jeans cost like $169 a pair. The total bill came up to like $579 and she thought that was cheap. One pair of my jeans cost $40 on sale, originally $79; the other pair cost $99, originally $139. I’ve bought some shirts to go with the jeans and a few pair of sneakers.

I hope Watrina reimburses me or this stuff or pays my rent because if she doesn’t I’m in trouble. She is trying to break up with me for leaving her at the club but I won’t let her. We’ve made love and spent a few nights together since that night. She could be just using me till she finds another guy but I doubt it and if she is, I’ll live. She told me that a guy like me in NY is hard to find, with his own apartment, car, nice job, big dick, etc. She says she know a few guys whose dick’s aren’t the size of mine on soft when they are hard. That shit just blows up my head a little.

Women always complain about finding a good man. I think I am good so I naturally think that any woman should be happy with me. I got many if not all of the qualities that they say they look for in a man. That is why when a bitch don’t do what I want her to do, I don’t talk to her for a few days to let her think about what she will lose if she don’t act right. If she gets too bad, I’ll break out. But I got to cut that shit out especially with Watrina because she is too young to be putting up with that shit and she is showing and telling me that she is not gonna put up with it. But I’d rather just walk away and not talk for a few days than have a big argument and still not talk for a few days. I’m finding out that is a bad way to handle the situation with your partner. If I ever want to keep a mate and I do want to keep Watrina, I better stop that shit.

Boy Watrina has done a number on me. She’s always thonged out. He ass, though it looks flat in some jeans that she wears, is so soft and jello-like when it is in my hands. I love when she rides my dick and her ass flaps up and down on my dick. I just bust a big ole nut and let the feel good out. I like her little cute tidies. We have a good sex life. She ain’t afraid to put the dick in her mouth neither. She licks my ass at times when she is sucking my dick. I guess she felt how good it felt when I do it to her when I lick her pussy and ass hole; she decided to return the good feeling to me. Now I got to work her up to making me cum in her mouth from sucking my dick. If we get married, I told her that I’m fucking her in her ass on our honey moon, or soon after. Now that would be the ultimate sex life without being a swing couple. I can’t let Watrina go because a good sex life; with style, money, not fat and flabby, and who is willing to take care of me, hit me off with some doe when I need it; I’d be a fool to let that go and I’ma hold on as long as I can. She probably thinks the same thing about me so maybe we will make it.

The re-po man is after my car since I haven’t paid my car payment in like 3 months. They called my apartment in Queens. At first I wondered how they got the number, but that was easy because it is a listed number. They still have no clue that it’s me who lives there though. They tried calling my mother saying they had an insurance check for me and could they send it to the Jackson St. Address. So apparently they’ve done a little research and found out where I used to live in the past and present. I don’t park my car in front of my apartment building so they may find it, they may not; if they do that will be fucked up.

It will be good to have the money in my pocket. Maybe I’ll live like a real New Yorker spending the money I would on a car payment and take cabs here and there with some of the money; rent cars to go to Ohio to pick up my daughter, etc. It will probably be a cheaper move actually than paying $342 a month for a car payment. I dropped my insurance two years ago, they are also looking for the car for that purpose. We’ll see if they find it though. If they do, it’s not worth much with 112,000 miles and it’s only 4 years old, so they won’t be able to sell it for much if they do get it back. I’ve gotten my money’s worth out of it; driven to Mississippi, to Atlanta, back and forth numerous times to Ohio and New York.

My finances are all fucked up. I consider myself a failure in life because of that fact. I’m nowhere in life right now; further than a lot of niggaz, but still nowhere to my standard of living. My apartment is raggedy, I don’t have all the clothes I want, I don’t have a dime in the bank, just debt, and that is a fucked up way to live. Watrina I my emergency money, and that shit is not always gonna be there so I better not get too used to it. I’ll get this shit together one day but until then I’m livin’ on the edge trying to get into this music industry and make money which there is no guarantee that I will make a lot of money doing that. All this make me constantly say that life is bullshit. But Oh Well.

Jrnl Entry No. 12.30.2002

So the year is over. My relationship with Watrina is about to be over. We lasted a year and eight months. I guess that is good for her being a – year old who said she didn’t want to be in a relationship anyway. I really dove in with her though. She was my girl. I took her to meet my whole family. I took her on a trip to Florida to meet my cousin/brother Romeo and his wife and kids. Nothing all that bad happened in our relationship except that she talked to a lot of guys claiming that they were friends. I don’t really think that she was fucking any of them, but I’m a realist who will never eliminate the possibility. I’ve been fucking with Carol Ann ever since I met Watrina so whatever she has done to betray me, I’ve done much worse. I was fucking Coffee for about six months of the time. I fucked Sausha a few times in Warren and she even came and stayed a week with me while Watrina was in Jamaica. I fucked three little neighborhood girls on sort of a steady basis for like three months. I fucked Haitie whom I met taking deposits to the bank for my job.

So trust, if Watrina did fuck Thurston who she went on a trip to Vegas with; if she fucked Lamont who used to call her every day; if she did fuck Catcher whom I’d catch looking at her ass on our meetings together because she was his fashion label consultant; if she’s went out with the last guy she gave her number to on the street (the 908 guy); if she fucked the guy she met at her job and told me that she thought he was gay, and the next thing I know he was on her cell phone leaving her a message; if so, I’ve did all the same, so oh well. I haven’t spoken to her in two days. She hasn’t called me and I haven’t called her. If she doesn’t call me by 12 A.M. tomorrow night, I’m calling her the next day and I will say, “this relationship is officially over.” I met this — year old teacher at the Supper Club on Saturday night. So now I have a woman who is older than I am and I will see the difference in the relationship.

I threw all of myself at Watrina and she didn’t do the same. She’s just now starting to show me that she loves me, but this not calling me is not cool. We’ve had two arguments in the last two weeks that have resulted in us not speaking. This last one I thought was cool because I left a message on her phone that it was O.K. I’d make an adjustment in my attitude and we’d move on, but she never responded. Watrina has a bright future ahead of her from what I can tell. She gonna make lots of money and be well off. With a good responsible man by her side, won’t be no stopping her. I thought that man could be me but it’s not looking like that will be the case. My prediction is that she will be pregnant within a year of us breaking up, and trying to make a relationship work with that guy. Good luck to her.

I’m a little scared by our break up but not broken down. I’m not old enough to be trying to save a bitch as if my life depended on it. I still got years left in me before I get to that point. I’ve taken Watrina back at my angriest points and settled and called her on many occasions and apologized to her for the simplest of things and taken her back when she was on my last nerve. BUT THIS IS IT! She has never apologized for nothing that she has done or made me upset about. I’M DONE!

I was out last night with my man Aderale who popped into town for the New Year I guess. He showed up here Saturday night unannounced, which is not bad. I ain’t on that shit really, but maybe he should have called because he traveled here five or six hours. What if I already had visitors or I was out of town. I guess he was just bored and wanted to do something and didn’t care if I was here or not, he just would have went somewhere else I guess. We went to the TIKI ROOM on 22nd St in Manhattan last night. I was politickin’ in there about my music pretty well I thought. I met this producer YOGI who produced one of my favorite Hip Hop albums, “CRU, Da Dirty 30”. Yogi gave me his number so I’ma try to get in the studio with him and check what he is doing and learn the business from him if he lets me. I got a few other numbers of rappers to send my beat CD to for a listen. I saw Pocahanas from Makin The Band. I didn’t know her but Aderale did. I never saw the show. I got her manager contact to get some beats to her. She raps and sings.

I’m not getting down on myself about this music shit. I have a whole new attitude about it. I wasn’t even excited about getting Yogi’s number or whoever else’s I got last night. If it happens it will happen if it is meant to be. That is how Watrina viewed our relationship and now it is about to be over. She never took it too serious I guess all that much so I’m gone. 2003, single to find a new bitch. I met this girl Julia last night from London. I like the look of her. I gave her my number because she said that she didn’t have a phone yet because she and friends moved here. I hope she calls me.

I’m going in debt by going out like I’ve been. As of now, I’m $100 in the hole. I’ll take it out of my rent money since my landlord hasn’t fixed my electrical outlets or hasn’t had them looked at by an electrician. I’m trying to get in contact with this guy who does photo shoots of nude guys for gay magazines. He says he’ll pay $250 per session that he uses you for. Maybe I can make a lot of extra money that way. I seem to have a nice body. I have heard too many times that I have a long big dick so that must be true; so maybe this, taking nude pictures for a gay magazines, will pay off if a big way. If not, I’ll probably just end up disgracing myself. But I need more money and I can’t think of any other way to make a quick $250. It is the only option I have so I’m taking it. I got to do what I have to do to survive and live how I want to live.

I haven’t talked to my daughter in two weeks. Her mom took her down south or somewhere for Christmas and didn’t bother to call and tell me. Maybe she is mad because I keep half the child support sometimes when I need it. I do that because she gets my tax return money. I mean hell, I need some relief from somewhere. Who’s gonna pay me back for when she was being unreasonable and not letting me see my daughter? She’ll eventually get all the money paid back to her somehow.

My finances are getting so fucked up. I had to pay $802.00 to get this lady’s hood fixed after Watrina tried to throw her daughter’s bike at me and missed and the bike landed on the hood of my neighbor’s car, and then she took the bike and broke out my rear car window. In all I paid out $1,300 which came from not paying my car note which is already on my credit report as being late because I don’t pay the extra $55 a month for an insurance fee after I dropped my full coverage insurance because I couldn’t afford it two years ago.

FUCK IT, is what they say, because you only live once right? That is why I fuck the way I do because it is or was my only source of entertainment. With hardly no money to go out and Watrina not being there half the time for me, it left a lot of time to fuck other bitches who wanted some.  I mean “I ain’t married right?” Isn’t that the statement to shove off the guilt of cheating on someone? SO FUCK IT! I just hope this behavior doesn’t carry over into when I do get married because that will be trouble.

I hope this music shit or something comes through for me with a nice size check in the next year or two because I sure need it. If not, I guess I’ll live like most, with fucked up credit and no money, moving from job  to job for a higher salary of thousands, of which I’ll only receive a few hundred because of taxes.

I tell you, life is bullshit. They say even with all the money problems solved, you still have problems, so when does it ever end; when you are dead? Makes you almost want to kill yourself to think about it. Fuck that, I got to have a win situation in life somewhere in the future. Everybody lives for a better future. I live for a better financial future, a better relationship future, to accomplish my music dreams in the future.

What am I living for today when I think about it? I guess I’m living to get home and relax. I’m living to get home and cook me a chicken dinner. I’m livin to get to Justin’s tonight to maybe meet more music people or meet a nice young lady. I’m living for Watrina to call me and ask what is wrong and how can she fix it. I’m living for the next time, which may be tonight, to talk to my daughter on the telephone. That is about all I can think of. But living for those things, am I happy?

I guess they all will make me happy, but I don’t feel they will make me as happy as being in the studio with Yogi recording a Black Rob song for Bad Boy Entertainment, or being a mid to big name producer in the studio with my second greatest rapper of all time as of now, NAS. KRSONE holds the crown for his 15 years of rockin’ his genre and generation. Tupac and BIGGIE haven’t gotten that time in so they don’t get a crown. I’ve already discussed that issue so it’s dead just like they are.

I have an open mind about the future at times, but most of the time I am pessimistic about it. I’m pessimistic about life: my wife will cheat on me and me probably on her; a divorce is possible if I get married; I may not make it in music; I may not get anywhere in this accounting career of mine neither; I don’t see a prosperous future with minor or major riches. I don’t know man I don’t know, but I’ma KIM (Keep It Movin) That I all any man can do. KEEP IT MOVIN!

@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. V

y do u think u c white people always jogging n winter spring summer fall? it helps u live longer & the oxygen n take makes u smarter.

The “oxygen intake from running makes u smarter” is me being facetious, but the fact may be true. I started running at the age — and while it may not make you smarter, there are some added benefits to it: healthy heart, added life span, weight control, energy boost, solace and peace of mind you experience while pushing yourself through the breathlessness (which eases after 1/2 a mile), ease of stress, added to a sense of accomplishment for running in the first place. In the aspects of solace, piece of mind and accomplishment I would say those are qualities that go along with a person being smarter and thinking clearer.

But back to White American people now; on any given day, at any given time, take a trip to Central Park, the parks along West End/West Side Highway in Manhattan, or along certain sections of the FDR Drive or even walk across the Brooklyn Bridge and there will not be a time that you take one of those trips you will not see White American people running: Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall. There may be a majority of White American people in America who do not run for exercise or sport, but when you take a look around, the majority of the runners anywhere, especially in winter are White American people. My finance remarked to me, day after Thanksgiving, “you goin’ running? It’s cold as hell out here.” To which, I remarked, “people run in the cold”; her response, “yeah, crazy people!” As I continued to walk to the track, I thought to myself, “so Black American of her to say something like that.”          

I’m a proponent of running, exercise, good health, good mind and body. I have yet to run a marathon and probably never will, but never-say-never. Maybe if Black American people took the extra effort to do some exercise which is somewhat arduous and challenging, maybe most  of our great grandparents, great aunts/uncles, grandparents, parents, aunts/uncles would not have died from or currently have diabetes. Or should I say, “most of my…….” And definitely my current generation will not fall victim to the same fate of high blood pressure, heart disease and diabetes complications.

As to the smart White American people thing, I’d be willing to bet, take any middle manager, middle or senior executive of any Fortune 500 company and for the majority of them, running or some other form of semi-strenuous workout activity will be in their exercise regimen; apart of company management and making 6 figure salaries seems smart to me, especially in a capitalistic, materialistic society such as America.

@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. IV

#blackwomen stop going outside in head rags looking like u r walking out on a slv plantation. u look ridiculous, ignorant & pusillanimous!

On the streets of New York City, especially Brooklyn and probably other cities as well, Black American women walk outside with these scarves wrapped around their head and tied into a knot at the front. It looks so Aint Jamaima and servant like. Black American women wear these scarves as if they are a fashion statement; like they are sexy. In actuality, and I do not know how they are impervious to the fact, they make these women look poor, sloppy, unintelligent and spineless. And these are probably women who complain they cannot find a good enough man in their lives.

First of all, if a guy approaches you with this type of scarf tied on your head, he only cares about coitus with you and he, more likely than not, is not all together himself. With the scarf on your head, no man who approaches you has any type of respect for you and probably doesn’t have respect for himself. He’s not prone to satisfy you sexually, probably has low self-esteem and may even beat on you.

These scarves make a woman look lifeless. If you do not mind looking as if you have no courage and no respect for yourself, by all means, continue to go outside with these head rags tied around your hair.