@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!

@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. 0

One night, Nov 9, 2012 4:00 AM, while expunging excrement from my body after having eaten a whole bag of Chips-A-Hoy chocolate chip cookies and four bowls of Honey Nut Cheerios, all with milk, while also high on an Ice Coffee – I usually do not drink coffee – I had purchased earlier from “The Pantry” on Decatur and Lewis Ave, after my two mile run around the Bedford Stuyvesant Brooklyn, NY block of Decatur and Chauncey Street between Lewis and Stuyvesant Avenues; I was reading a book, “Men Woman and Children” by Chad Kultgen. I thought the book to be true to average American middle class White American life; it was a dramedy and I was enjoying the read. It hit me, that while I already had a book in production which would take me years to finish, and just after hearing from my girlfriend I’d been involved with for 11 years (currently my fiancé as of this writing in 2013) (it’s currently 2019 and economics of it taking a Black American man twice/three times as long to find employment as a White American man, the relationship has dissolved.) through an emotional tumultuous relationship which had not culminated into marriage just yet, that I would be a good writer, a project which I thought I could finish very quickly as a book and maybe even a series of books came to mind.          

One day Oct 4, 2012 as I had come home from a morning run around Boys and Girls High School track in Bedford Stuyvesant Brooklyn, searching for a new employment position and dealing with covert (so they thought) discrimination of recruiting agencies as well as from individual company HR recruiters who all would call me at this time due to a great background and resume, but the moment they heard my voice – which I was not doing my job to disguise it to sound like Brian Gumble, defunct of any natural bass and/or Black inflections in his speech – and heard that I was a Black American man, it seems they quickly lost interest in speaking with me regarding Accounting Manager positions paying $85,000 – $110,000 even though I had 10 solid years of work experience, 5 at the last company I was employed. I had recently passed my Certified Public Accountants (CPA) examination, which I thought would boost my credentials as a job candidate, but companies all seemed to have no interest in finding me positions or hiring me.

A deep enmity for Corporate America and in tandem White America began to brew inside me. I began to despise my own race of people because I thought, due to their ignorant ethos, cultural shibboleths and ways of living, it was reflecting badly on me in the eyes of recruiting agencies and employers who took the chance to invite me in for a personal interview, but I was not receiving any offers.  On this night in October is when I came up with the Twitter name @BLK_PEEPSTOP (since then, no longer active) to expunge all of my thoughts about things Black American people do, don’t do, say, don’t say, think and don’t think which are either beneficial or detrimental to Black American people’s survival on American soil.

For it seemed to me White America and Corporate America had and have been discriminating against Black Americans blatantly in the early 60s and 70s and covertly during the 80s, 90s, 2000s and beyond; you’d think we’d get it by now and wean ourselves off of their placating, assuaging and coddling us, to become our own independent society who covertly (just as they do us) does not deal with or need them to survive. This charge was further exacerbated on Sun Nov 4, 2012 when I got my hands on a book called “Jerusalem 1913”, a story of how Zionist Russian and German Jews infiltrated Palestine in the early 1900s and took over the land to brew the boiling pot that cooks to this very day of Arabs having been pushed out of Jerusalem, fighting and bombing Israelites.

As I began to read my tweets, I thought that while some needed no further explanation, many others were not inexplicable and needed further analysis. So I started to write a book of my interpretations of the tweets. At the start of this book, there were 494 tweets directed at Black American people to infuriate them, educate them and hopefully get some discourse going of how we can become a better people. A few people started following me on twitter, but I quickly blocked them because I did not want any people of any kind, any organization following me; eventually, I came to the conclusion, I DID NOT WANT ANYONE FOLLOWING THIS TWITTER PAGE.

I addressed most of my tweets starting with: #blackpeople, hoping that would reach a number of them out in the tweet-o-sphere / Black Twitter, but that did not seem to be doing anything. I wondered if my tweets were getting blocked because they were too political or of a strong seditious nature. The first few days the tweets came to mind in rapid succession but quickly began to slow down. I surmised in my mind I was not doing this for followers, but to get this info out of my head and consciousness as I was talking to myself rather constantly on these particular issues because one can not readily verbalize these type of phrases or thoughts to Black American people without them getting very defensive or upset: as I tried many of times to disseminate some of these thoughts on my girlfriend and got into fervent discussions, she called them “arguments, which left her uneasy and losing sleep.”

My point to this whole project is that Black American people do not speak of such ills.  We sit silent while everything goes wrong in our culture, and we are used and abused by White American people of all backgrounds: Italians, Irish, Jewish, WASP, Germans, Russians, etc. Everyone seems scared to address particular issues.

But these are things I’ve reasoned with myself that need to be said directly to Black American people by Black American people.

There is a dichotomy of feeling in my writing, I’m a little jarred when other races of people talk about Black American people in this context, but when I speak on them myself, it seems I harbor many of the same ill feelings.  I think the difference is, I’m expressing these feelings hoping they will be erased and get better, but when other people of other races express these feelings, they are laughing at us with no hope that things will get better. My layout will be simple. I will post the tweet as written on twitter. I will then proceed to explain and articulate, as to what caused the thought behind the tweet and expound upon my direct reasoning and interpretation since twitter does not allow you to do such with just 140 characters.