Lessons last longer than advice. There is good and bad advice, but what you learn from lessons never changes. Ever. The Denzel Principle is a book of lessons from an experienced man, without any filters. Steve Harvey wrote a great book of funny advice… with the fabulous Denene Milner co-writing. Hill Harper also wrote a good book, where a bachelor talks to other people’s advice and tells you what he thinks about what they think about relationships. My approach was  to be honest with women without any filters or co-writers and be courageous by drawing the story and the lessons from my personal life. The Denzel Principle” is a book of lessons.   As I re-animate my personal blog, I may or may not get to that. But I got one thing on my mind that I do want to talk about.

I think the first thing to do is to address my oft-mentioned “misogyny,” “misogynist screeds,” “relentless misogyny,” me, the “resident misogynist” and the like. Sexism and misogyny are different: Sexism can be and often is discriminatory, but is most often pro-information and pro-empowerment for a particular gender. Misogyny is oppressive, hateful and destructive towards women.  Both are pretty subjective.  However, we could safely call me a sexist in the same manner that you could call Oprah Winfrey a sexist. Sexism Oprah has a distinct, passionate point of view drawn from her life in her skin, and so do I.  Unlike Oprah, I sometimes choose to use plain talk (what I like to call “barbershop language”) to underscore ugly truths. I write the way many men talk when they have nothing to lose by being frank and honest.  I recognize that style doesn’t resonate with everyone, but what can you do? Well, if you’re a woman, sometimes you call me a misogynist, and use this label to taint everything I say. It’s the same tactic black people use when they call some white racists, or gays use when they call some heteros homophobic. But we’ll get to that later. Suffice it to say that here, there and everywhere many of the critics have written about the book, citing The Denzel Principle as an ugly addition to the canon of essays I’ve written for The Root.com that attack, oppress and degrade black womankind.

Ok. First, let’s figure out what we are talking about.

Misogyny functions as both an adjective and a noun. In popular culture, it was used a lot in the early parts of last century –improperly—primarily in reference to serial killers of women, rapists and pederasts.  When was that, you ask? Before most of us were born. Nevertheless, it was a very extreme, volatile term, meant to convey violence and pure evil. It wasn’t to be used lightly. It fell out of favor for awhile, but feminists reanimated it back to its actual definition—a preternatural hatred and contempt for womankind. Misandry, or the absolute hatred of men, is also a term that got some traction back then, but it fell out of vogue. For the last 50 years, everyone from super-models to rappers have been branded misogynists. Yes, women can be misogynists. But in the last 20 years or so, outside of feminist theory circles, you seldom hear it used to describe the behavior of women, although it should be.

I was first branded a misogynist when I wrote an essay on this blog dissecting the Duke Lacrosse Rape Scandal as a stripper shake-down gone horribly awry, which it turned out I was right about, to the very last detail. Before then, I’d heard the term used to describe my work, but I brushed it off – I rarely wrote about women, and when I did I was as specific as possible. You can have contempt for the actions of a person without having contempt for their entire race or gender. So accusing me of some “hatred or contempt for women or womankind” struck me as an easy way to discount my opinion without giving it any thought: it’s easier than saying ‘you are a man, so I will not listen to you.” There was another reason I gave it short shrift.

Calling someone a misogynist isn’t so much an insult as a diagnosis or sorts. Attributing the mis-behavior of Negro men to some kind of genetic flaw is always sexy copy since “Birth of a Nation” days, but too retro to take seriously. But then smart people started to make this observation, over and over, I’d hear it. I began to think, “well, maybe they have a point.”  But when I engaged them and asked them to find proof of this misogyny, they didn’t.  Not that they couldn’t, they just chose not to, I guess. I suspect this is because the term (noun) functions similar to the word “bitch,” once used to brand outspoken women in the 70s:  it is so vile and SO extreme and utterly unquantifiable. “Bitch” once had the ability to shut down outspoken women COLD, or provoke them to hysterics, which only gave kindling and credence to the insult.  Calling someone a misogynist has that same effect:  trust me, you can ignore it, it can make you can squirm. Or it can make you angry, and you react, push back and see how hostile you are? That proves it: You MUST be a misogynist. It’s a brilliant insult with no reasonable retort. It is rhetorically impossible to disprove, but easy to insinuate, infer and conjecture. We can’t prove that I’m not a misogynist? But we could absolutely prove it, if I was. And I’d down with that. Why would I want to do that?

Well, the word is liberally used to describe me and my work by so many, and my kids? They can read. My 20—odd year old? He thinks its funny. “Those people have no idea, do they Dad?” he says.  But one day soon, my daughter may ask “Daddy, What’s a misogynist?” I want to give her the best answer I can.

My work on The Root.com has been cited as “relentlessly misogynist” by no less than a well-regarded and heavy-lettered Ivy League professor, author, pundit and branded feminist, so it makes sense to me that it would serve as the best example of my psychosis, should there be one. I’ve been writing for The Root.com for 2 years and some change. I wrote about women and relationships last year more than I ever had, mainly as a means to sneak in little promos of my book. Most people would agree that The Root has the best sample of my misogyny and hatred of black women and womankind.

As luck would have it, the current archive of The “Hardline” represents a full year of entries. There are 16 pages, and 10 entries on each page: 160, total. This doesn’t include the longer stuff I do for them —known as “Views” pieces—that mainly were written by request, more or less. Those tend to be outliers, I think. I do include the infamous “black women get real” ‘Views’ essay thing I did for them on this list, just to be thorough. This seems like a really good sample size.

OK, so bear with me. My math isn’t great, as I am dyslexic –yes, really –but I hope to muddle through this and not be too far off, numbers-wise.

So. One Hundred and sixty entries, plus one ‘Views’ essay. Ok.

Of those, including the essay, 51 blog entries or 32% overall— incidentally involve women as primary or secondary subjects,

1.       Aunt Jemima and Politics in Darktown – editorial cartoon in Cleveland causes stir

2.       Heather Ellis — WalMart protestor may bear some responsibility for arrest

3.       Michelle Obama’s Dating Advice — Michelle Obama and me give the same dating advice

4.       Myth of Marital Equality — no such things as marital equals: it’s a partnership that ebbs, flows

5.       Woman Beats Man on “Tyra” — why is DV on men funny and/or entertaining?

6.       Gina MacCauley on Dunbar Village — crazy as she is, Gina is the bomb agitator

7.       Mike Tyson on “Oprah” — Car-crash-o-rama

8.       Chris Rock vs. Regina Kimbell — the law suit over “Good Hair”

9.       Michelle Obama on Healthcare — She’s on it

10.   What Whitney didn’t say — Whitney’s was complicit in toxic relationship, daughter’s antics

11.   Big Love — I love big girls

12.   Rihanna’s Turn — If Rihanna hit Chris Brown, she should be charged: lessons all-around

13.   Roxanne’s a Sham – legend of Roxanne’s Ph.D was phoney

14.   Black Woman Arrested at Town Hall Meeting — Sad incident, caught on tape… race appears to be a factor

15.   Hilary Sets You Straight — H. Clinton will not be dissed

16.   The Virtual Break-Up –breaking up via text–really?

17.   Kirstie Alley — Why was Harry Allen going hard at Rebecca Howell?

18.   Debbie Rowe — She’s gonna fight for the Jackson kids

19.   Usher — Not Dad of The Year

20.   Madonna — Kid Shopping in Africa

21.   Chinequa Campbell cries “Race” — Chinequa says race, class played into her incident

22.   Woman Clocks Rapper — Why is it OK for a woman to hit a man?

23.   Husband Sues Wife for No Sex — Crazy sex boycott — dumb husband

24.   Check-Up on The Shack-ups — Know who lives with your kids

25.   First Mother IN Law — Send-up to mother in laws

26.   Sex Politics in Kenya — more ugly/crazy sex boycott

27.   African Booty Strike — irreverent take on the sex-strike that I regret the tone of a bit…

28.   Jamie Foxx: No Women, No Kids — why is a grown man taking shots at a lil girl?

29.   Dear Papa —- Al B. Sure’s son writes a letter to his dad, but is there more to the story?

30.   Black Women Choosing Gay Men? — Why is/was Dwight Eubanks engaged to a woman?

31.   Gay Marriage — why not let The Gays marry?

32.   Sean Levert — Is there a child support arrearage solution that doesn’t involve jail?

33.   Sadat’s Widow — Obama tankster

34.   He Deserved It — Why are we celebrating domestic violence of ANY kind?

35.   Rosa Parks — auctioning of her legacy and retailing of The Dream

36.   Private Line — checking text and email is bad for business

37.   Cover-girl in Chief — what’s the big deal with Michelle on magazine covers?

38.   Carla Was Robbed — Top Chef!

39.   Carlita Kirkpatrick — weathered scandal to stand by her man

40.   Rihanna’s Pictures — did we really need to see them?

41.   When She Hits Him — what happens when men are victims of DV?

42.   5 Peeps That will Ruin Your V-Day — funny riff on her friends that make your life hard

43.   10 Valentines thT will Put Him On Notice — funny riff about getting your man in check

44.   Nadya Suleman — Empowered woman or nut?

45.   Chris Brown/Rihanna Incident — so ugly. Maybe more than we know. everyone involved should be accountable.

46.   Hillary Clinton: Everywoman — Superwoman

47.   He’s Not That Into You, Sista — comment on Latyoa Peterson’s bomb-ass essay on film

48.   Why Not Oprah? — riff on Oprah’s political viability

49.   First Mother In Law, take 2 1/2 –more cheap in-law riffs

50.   A Divorce Supreme — pop culture riff on Housewife show

51.   Black Women—Get Real — hard advice about dating, from a man w/out much tact

That seems like a lot –until you consider that there are 155.8 milion women in America, slightly more than half the population of the United States. So actually, if I wasn’t such a sexist, I would/should have been writing about them more.

Looking closer, of those 51 entries, 22—or 43%—of the entries deal in commentary where gender identity is not incidental, and I comment on a specific kind or woman, specific group of women or just a specific woman that gets to gender politics of some sort. It’s 14%, overall:

1.       He’s Not That Into You, Sista

2.       Why Not Oprah?

3.       First Mother In Law, take 2 1/2

4.       A Divorce Supreme

5.       Black Women—Get Real

6.       Nadya Suleman

7.       Carlita Kirkpatrick

8.       Rihanna’s Pictures

9.   What Whitney didn’t say

10   Big Love

11   Rihanna’s Turn

12   First Mother IN Law

13.   Sex Politics in Kenya

14.   African Booty Strike

15.   Black Women Choosing Gay Men?

16.   Chinequa Campbell cries “Race”

17.   Woman Clocks Rapper

18.   Husband Sues Wife for No Sex

19.   Nadya Suleman

20.   Hillary Clinton: Everywoman

21.   First Mother IN Law

22.   Myth of Marital Equality

Blogs entries about domestic violence in general, usually in conjunction with a news story – 6 or 1% t of the blogs involving women, 4% overall

1.       Chris Brown/Rihanna Incident

2.       Woman Clocks Rapper

3.       When She Hits Him

4.       Woman Beats Man on “Tyra”

5.       Rihanna’s Turn

6.       He Deserved It

Blog specifically or that allude to female on male domestic violence- 5 or 10% of the blogs involving women, and 3% overall.

1.       Woman Clocks Rapper

2.       When She Hits Him

3.       Woman Beats Man on “Tyra”

4.       Rihanna’s Turn

5.       He Deserved It

Blogs about relationships, in the broadest sense (e.g. electronic break-ups, gay marriage): 12 or 7%

1.       Gay Marriage

2.       Private Line

3.       Michelle Obama’s Dating Advice

4.       Myth of Marital Equality

5.       The Virtual Break-Up

6.       Black Women Choosing Gay Men?

7.       5 Peeps That will Ruin Your V-Day

8.       10 Valentines the will Put Him On Notice

9.       He’s Not That Into You, Sista

10.   Check-Up on The Shack-ups

11.   Black Women—Get Real

Blog about black male/black female relationships, specifically: 2 or .006% and 1%, overall.

1. Black Women—Get Real
2. Black Women Choosing Gay Men?

Father’s rights and responsibilities (e.g. absentee-ism, estrangment, child support) 3 or 1% and 1.9%, overall.

1.       Check-Up on The Shack-ups

2.       Sean Levert

3.       Dear Papa

By way of comparison….

Blog entries that include men as primary or secondary subjects: 105, or 65% overall.

Of those, blog entries where gender identity is not incidental, and I comment on a specific kind or specific group of men that gets to gender politics of some sort: 50 out of 105 or 47%, and 31% overall.

I didn’t link the stuff I wrote about men – you can, if you want. I feel like I’ve done the hard part.

By the numbers, we don’t learn much except that I should be writing about women more than I do. Since The Root.com has been cited by no less than three people –one of them an esteemed professor –the numbers should tell us something quantifiable, yes? It seems to me that in order for anyone to qualify as a “relentless misogynist” significantly more than half of their work should be dedicated to their vitriol about women everywhere and  persecuting or down-grading women, or that the work that is there be flagrantly vile, beyond the pale and abhorrent, displaying an wanton hate for womankind most people find apparent.

While it is certain that the works linked here are critical of some kinds women in general and some women specifically, most noteworthy is the fact that these blog entries are not without context: they are about news items, mostly, or news-makers. They are timely culture criticism from a working culture critic. If they were at all different in form or content than comparable criticism of men, that would be a grand tell. However, there doesn’t seem to be any evidence of that. Sometimes I am rude and offensive about men. Sometimes about women.

The book uses a lot of different voices, saying a lot of different things in a lot of different languages. Some voices are angry, some hurt, some bitter, some happy, some street, some satirical, some suburban, some academic, some comedic. Some reviewers get that. Some don’t. One of my favorite reviews talks about how the word “bitch” appears in  The Denzel Principle 11 times in the first 4 pages, or something crazy like that, and uses this to make the case that I must be a misogynist. The truth? Like I said, the book is written in a few different styles, and the language is most often context-appropriate. The word “bitch” appears seven times in the first 15 pages, 29 times over-all. Of those 29 times, the word is used by the narrator –me!– 4 times to describe two specific women in two contentious situations. Two more times, two women use the word “bitch” to describe womankind and then one specific woman. The remaining times, “bitch” is used as a verb, mostly, or as a weird adjective, like “bitch-trap” –in that specific case, as an homage to Robert Beck and generally, to be consistent with the barbershop language peppered throughout the book. If you don’t hang out in bars or barbershops—like I do—this language will sound foreign and ugly. So, I the “B-Word” comes up a few times. It’s not like I named the book “Bitch is the New Black” or “The Bitch Switch“ because that would be silly, hateful and misogynist on its face. And my book is about dialog and lessons… not “bitches.”

I recognize that not everyone shares my wit or sensibilities. My apologies. This entry isn’t a defense of my work in general or the book specifically. It’s me saying that if you think I am a woman-hater and I’ve asked you to make your case, you don’t have an excuse anymore. I have drawn from what one EXPERT suggested was the most POTENT example of my misogyny.

So. Make your case.

I (often) get paid to make fun of people, and for the most part I hit above the waist. I recognize that all things are fair on the Internets. I’m just asking before you prepare yourself to diagnose someone—anyone—as a misogynist or a woman-hater, or a misandrist or a homophobe or anything quasi-clinical and de-humanizing, make sure you have a good argument. A really, really good argument.

More later.

p.s. these numbers? don’t prove a thing, one way or the next. In know that. Oppressed people feel insults on a visceral level that is hard to quantify, and women who feel oppressed and attacked –like black women must feel— are no different. Some women tend to be more compassionate to womankind than men are likewise, to the point where an insult to one woman is an insult to the whole. This is a trope that we see played out with blacks, Jews, gays, Asians, Italians, Latinos, the disabled and other oppressed minority groups. I get that. Whether the outrage is real or even justifiable I can’t speak to. I’m just saying: I don’t know that attacking the messenger with ugly names, in any event, is the answer and the best way to fire debate and constructive dialog about anything. But on the internet, the loudest argument wins.

With all the talk about Chris Brown and Rihanna, I’ve been talking and writing a lot about domestic violence. Chris and Ri were not married, are not related or cohabitating, so their incident comes more accurately under the heading of assault or another term I am hearing a lot of lately –Intimate Partner Violence.

I’ve been trying to broaden the conversation because I have been assaulted by women, and I know how helpless you feel as a man caught up in it. Every man I know has a “crazy bitch” story, as in “that crazy bitch tried to punch/cut/stab/club me. “ I don’t know what happened between Chris Brown and Rihanna, but I know that studies suggest that women instigate these crack-ups more times than we think. I really feel Byron Hurt’s attempt to get at men who abuse women, because we can all agree those “men” are sub-human. But while he wrote out the 10 excuses men use for hitting women, I kept waiting for the women’s list. I’m still waiting. I dig B’s idea, but I think we have addressed the equation from one end for long enough and found that it doesn’t work. The numbers haven’t gone down, and there has been no change. So it may be time for a new approach. Shaming, blaming propping up the double standard and polarizing the conversation doesn’t move it forward. We have to not just acknowledge that women hit men and that it is wrong, but figure out how to stop it. Trying to emphasize he frequency or disparity in the numbers misses the point, since some much of IPV involving women hitting men goes unreported. I think we have to agree that it’s wrong or agree that there is a double-standard.

First, let’s figure out what exactly we’re talking about.

I think there are two types of domestic violence perpetrators: there is the partner using violence as a means to control, diminish and manipulate, and then there is the partner using violence as a secondary language. I’ve been a victim of both, so I can tell you there is a distinct difference, if the net result is the same. The first group of abusers are monsters who, failing rigorous counseling and rehabilitation, should all be shot and killed. But I guess imprisonment would suffice. They are almost always men –women don’t Deebo-up on men like that often, although it does happen infrequently. The second group of abusers—the Reactionists, I call them—are the ones men run across the most. The women who think it’s ok, charming, empowering even—to act out violently. They use violence as a means to gain compliance and communicate contempt, dismay, displeasure, discontent, and dominance. In my experience and in the experience of other men I know, they are almost always black. I’m not generalizing, just reporting. There is not always a problem, but when there is a problem, the problem could turn loud and physical in a heartbeat. And there you are. That’s a tough space to be in. I’m convinced that men need tools and options when met with female aggression.

Women say they should be able to hit men, because they can’t hurt men, but I don’t know that women are any “weaker” than men in fisticuffs. According to the National Center for Health Statistics, the average weight for a woman is 163 lbs, and the average man weighs 190 pounds. That’s not a big disparity but outside the UFC, 20+ pounds would put you in another boxing division. So let’s give that women are certainly the lighter sex. But not for nothing, it’s worth pointing out that, at 163 pounds, you can do an awful lot of damage to someone who isn’t fighting back. And attempting to restrain a 163-pounder may require effort that could lead to bruising, which is pretty much a ticket to jail.

When I got attacked by women, I didn’t know what the hell to do (I ended up just taking it), and when I asked around, no one else seemed to either. As a man, you go in thinking everyone knows the rules—that smart boys don’t hit girls and smart girls don’t hit boys– so it’s not a situation you ever expect to find yourself in.

Facing it, what’s a man to do? Well, I got a list. It’s not a catch-all, and your results may vary, but as passive-aggressive means for dealing with violence are concerned, I think it may be a good place to start. So, in no particular order, I give you…

Ten Things Men Can Do When Women Attack

*Leave –make it a non-negotiable, right off-top. Nobody hits anybody. There are too many women in the world to be with a crazy one. And any woman who thinks its OK to hit a man as a means of communication is obviously crazy. So you could just say “fuck it” and leave.

*Walk Away –Merely walking away isn’t always a practical solution, because she may follow you out the door.

EVEN IF SHE FOLLOWS: getting out in the open is important for a few reasons, one of which we’ll get to later.

In the meantime…

*Bob, Weave Protect and Deflect –Arms up, use open palms to deflect kicks and punches. Be moving away from the conflict. Go back later, pack your shit, and leave.

DO NOT PUSH, SHOVE, TRIP, ATTEMPT TO RESTRAIN MOVEMENT OR ENGAGE PHYSICALLY IN ANY WAY, as it may lead to bruising.

*Pepper spray – if I woman comes at you with a blunt object or a weapon, spice up her life a lil bit. Leaving might be a good idea.

PROBLEMATIC BECAUSE: you can’t just go spraying less-lethal chemical agents willy-nilly. She must be brandishing a weapon or a blunt object, and you better be able to prove it. Not for nothing, because this brand of self-defense can be construed as assault, and both of you may go to jail.

For our purposes, let’s assume a woman attacks a man with her hands.

*C all the police –The first moment you can. This is almost never possible. So, if you are retreating into a public space, ask a bystander to call the police. They will help you pack your shit so you can leave.

This particular solution is a gamble and MAY NOT WORK IN YOUR FAVOR BECAUSE: to avoid liability, cops very often MUST take someone to jail. It’s a 50/50 shot that will come down to who has recent bruises and who has the better, best documented story. More the former than the latter.

*File a report – Protect yourself and if you intend to stay in this relationship, it makes a lot of sense. Did she destroy your property? File charges. Start a paper trail. Or just leave –who needs the drama?

*Record the incident – Were you able to tape the incident somehow? File that with the report. Police say this is an invaluable tool to help sort through the suspect/victim statements. After you leave.

HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT? Call your own voicemail and let it roll.

*Are there witnesses? – Encourage witnesses to make statements to police about what they saw while you are leaving.

*Solicit her people for advice. – This is an under-rated, largely untried solution. If the girl has a father in her life, he is probably the one to talk to, because the women will, in all likelihood, be indifferent. So, by “people,” I mean her uncle, her pastor or some male figure she has known a long time that cares about her. This could easily backfire, and lead to you getting your ass kicked by her people. But it seems to me if her men-folk have any sense at all they will try and talk some sense into her. Try this, before leaving.

*Couple’s counseling –but I say that not knowing one couple who have successfully been through it and remained together. However, I think it may be important for a third party to tell that using violence to communicate is wrong. Worth a try, before leaving.

I planned to attend my 20-year high school reunion, but mostly, I ended up just going to the meet and greet, which was the night before. I paid and everything for the reunion, but I had my son Saturday night, so that pretty much trumps everything.

My best friend came by and picked me up, and off we went. Back before I moved back to Cleveland—almost six months ago–he was pumping up the reunion—“y’gotta go, dawg!”—but it wasn’t that interesting to me. There was no one in particular I wanted to see. But the more I thought of it as fodder for writing, then the more sense it made to go. Like I said, I ended up not going to the reunion itself, but the meet and greet was probably as good as it was going to get.

So we get to this pizza place—Pizzazz—head down to the basement, and the motherfucker’s packed to the gills. Which means, there are about 50 people here. What struck me immediately is that, after 20 years, the room still self-segregated itself, cafeteria-stylee: white alums were at the bar, while black folk had pretty much taken over the back. This was the first sign that skipping the reunion itself was a good move. I had to make my way through the white folks to get to the black folks, and while some remembered me, most did not. Granted, I didn’t have one of those nametags, and I am about 120% larger than I was in high-school. But I’m still me. Most of the white folks didn’t even acknowledge me. Even a girl I dated briefly—white girl—was at a loss. Our love affair, obviously, was not the World Series of Love. This experience, a troubling stumble down memory lane. I was invisible in high school, I thought. And I am invisible today.

I made it back to where a lot of the S-Town-types were holding court, and was disappointed that a lot of these cats were still the same. They are exactly as I left them. I guess you are whoever you are going to be by high school, and a lot of the cats who were assholes in ’88 where just assholier in ’08. Among the men, I probably looked the most drastically different. In high school, I was 110 lbs, mostly muscle and hair. This morning I tipped the scale at 226, more or less muscle and hair. And gut. There were a few extremes, and I was probably one. But mostly everyone looked the same. The women who attended were either dramatically thinner or about the same, which just some of that MILFy seasoning (e.g. wider hips). Most of the girls either looked real bad (read FAT), real good, or about the same. And that’s how they treated me too, even after all this time. Real bad, real good, or about the same. So nothing has changed much in 20 years.

There was a lot of drinking and laughing, and it was weird to be in a room where a good portion of these people had intimate history together. Weird, because some of those folks were trying to get reacquainted, on the low, and they often had husbands and wives in tow. And, just like I did in high school, I had fun watching that drama play out. There were a ton of under-class party-crashers, and that was cool. Also, there were a few mean-mugs from cats, cats who haven’t done much with their lives but work shit-hole jobs, showing up like the Time Haters to try and throw salt on whatever you are up to. I even had this dude try to re-start a fight we started back in 1989. I was floored, like, I would have beat your ass at a buck ten, but at two and quarter, you may not survive it. I just laughed it off, because he was trying to get his thing off. He wanted to feel as if he belonged here. Like he’d done something. He needed that cafeteria dynamic. I gave him his moment. I’m magnanimous that way.

I had fun, but by and large, I was an outsider in high school, and I was an outsider 20 years later. I didn’t feel any more invested in Shaker Heights’ myth of integration. And I know it’s a myth because, even after 20 years, these folks didn’t feel any more comfortable comingling with black people. At the reunion, I’m told people sat Shaker Cafeteria –style: white s on one side, blacks on the other. And it took some real doing to get the white people to cross that line. These are all middle-aged people from one of America’s first models of integration and diversity. Obviously, the social engineering didn’t take. If you are going to your next high school reunion, I have some helpful advice for you–more like, some simple math.

jimi izrael’s High School Reunion Math

1. As a rule, any sentence that starts with “remember the time you…” = a scenario you don’t want to remember.

2. Felony record= not as sexy as it used to be in 11^th grade.

3. When people remark on how big you’ve gotten, they rarely mean that in a good way.

4. If you need to remind someone that the two of you dated…. Don’t.

5. Chams De Baron shirt or Chic jeans = “I work at Family Dollar and still live at home.”

6. Being confused with someone else you went to school with = net loss.

7. Stuck up, popular girl who would give you no play + 20 years + 180lbs= Karma.

8. Calculating the chances you’ll get laid at your high school reunion: Popularity in high school divided by years away from multiplied by fame and/or relative success and the price of drinks and time of night, squared.

9. Bald > Receding hairline. This applies to women too.

10. Recalculating your sexy: whatever your sexy was in high school minus a GED +your undergrad degree+ your grad degree minus 25 for every pound you’ve gained and strand of hair you’ve lost, divided by the price of drinks, squared.

All that said, I took pictures, and I ganked some from others.

This is Ed Blunt and Gabbie.

You may recognize Ed from “The Inside Man.” He was the father.

Kahlil and Edna

ME and Lisa.

Me and Darla

Nirvana, Me and Lynette

Retired New York Giants defensive end Michael Strahan recent skermishes in divorce court serve to underline why there need to be changes in the child-support laws—and I have come up with the perfect solution. It’s a fact: men that make a lot of money get taken to the wash in divorce court, and that makes sense to me: if your wife is a (quantifiable) partner in your success, then she should be compensated for that investment. Quantifying that investment is complicated, but no matter: alimony, in a lot of cases, is warranted.

People that say ‘the child support solution is to wear a condom’ are generally pretty stupid people who would have you believe they were born in a manger with Three Wise Men bringing gifts. 85% of us were not planned. Most of us were conceived in the back of someone’s car or, like me, on a couch in my grandmother’s basement. The only reason she keeps the couch, she says, is because I was conceived on it. How about that?

Well, that’s another matter entirely.

Re: child support, men should pay up, because the purpose of child support is to provide care to child long after a relationship or marriage has been terminated. That makes all the sense in the world. The vast majority of mothers need this money to make ends meet and support them while they try to make a go of it, single-parent-stylee. I’m down with that. What’s confusing to me is the idea that support should somehow make the child’s life on-par with the father’s life. Nah. These laws are antiquated, and assume that women don’t cake like men do. If Mommy is losing like that, and we want the kid to live like Daddy—>shrugs<—I say Daddy should be given custody. That makes more sense to me.

Most often, the amount paid to the mother seems to be more about adult support than child support, and it’s not uncommon to see mothers riding fine, iced down, and find your seed out there in holey shoes and moth-eaten Old Navy gear, eating pot-pies for dinner. The women sometime don’t work, and child support becomes their primary income. And there is no way to know how much of that is being used for her upkeep, and not the kids. So how do we fix that?

Child support should not be based on the income of the father—that’s ludicrous. That’s basically encouraging women to use children like paychecks and lay back. And if you need child support to survive, again, you should consider giving custody to the father. I think there should be a different formula for determining child support that encourages all parties involved to be responsible parents.

The Ultimate Child Support Solution goes like this:

• The feds should figure out the median grocery bill for a mother and a child and every stage of development. Support should cover half of that grocery bill. This should include formula, diapers, etc.
• The feds should figure out the median cost of housing a mother and child, based on price per square foot of a two-bedroom apartment. Support should cover only the price per square foot of the child’s bedroom.
• Support should cover half of the median amount of all utilities, including cable..
• Fathers should have to contribute $200 quarterly towards clothing. This will go up $100 per quarter when the kid becomes a teenager.

In order to receive child support benefits:

• Unless she’s mentally defective, mothers would have to be employed within six months to a year of birth of the child. If not employed, mothers must be enrolled in an accredited certification program or college and afforded grants, work-study or other some-such to pull her own weight.
• If there is some medical or religious reason why the mother can’t work, the father should be given custody.
• If a Mother is shacked up with some dude, benefits should be cut by half.
• Every time the woman had a new baby by a new daddy, the benefits from the previous child would be cut by half. What do I mean?

So say, sister, you had a baby with Bootney, and his payments are $350 per month and then you and Rufus hook-up and make a kid. Congrats. That means while Rufus will pay his full obligation, you just cut Bootney’s payments by half, to $175 a month. Next thing, you have another baby with Lil Murder from up the block. That’s cool. You have just cut Rufus’ payments in half, and now Bootney only has to pay $80-some dollars a month in support. And so on and so on and so on.

What About Dad?

• Fathers, instead of being jailed for non-support, would be compelled into job-search, work-study, re-hab or job training programs, and would be assigned a worker, parole-officer-stylee, to monitor their progress. Three interviews a week. Two applications a day. For as long as it takes.
• Fathers paying support would have mandatory 50/50 custody.
• Fathers who actively elude their parental responsibility could sign away their parental rights, but still have to pay support.
• There would be no “back support.” You pay while you are working. After three months of unemployment, treated as non-support.

Fathers who would prefer to have custody of their seeds would receive a court-appointed attorney to fight for their rights.

And to prevent abuse, no more child support checks. Support money would be loaded onto a debit card, much like the one used for food stamps, and the same kind of strict purchasing guidelines and monitoring would govern its usage. If a father has custody, then all these things should work conversely.

The Ultimate Child Support Solution prevents men from running from responsibility, prevents women and men from abusing the system, and, most importantly makes everyone responsible and evens the playing field.

What do you think?

With Biden and all his cool credentials and no heavy additives, pollutants or bitter taste, Obama going to add his flavor and essentially make political Kool Aid, which was the best thing for the party. I doubt the Clinton supporters will be sipping, and I see some salt her game that her supporters might throw in the mix. But let’s face facts: Obama needed a white man in his stable. Flat out. I’m not an Obama supporter: in fact, I haven’t chosen sides one way or the next. I like to keep my politics to myself. Suffice it to say, however, as white men go, he could have done a lot worse than Biden.

Signing the papers wasn’t traumatic at all–I was more concerned about missing my flight than the dissolve of my marriage. I wanted out in the worst imaginable way, but I wasn’t going without my son. See, here’s a free tip to all you Dads on your way to divorce court: the mistake you, Alec Baldwin and others make is getting the divorce out of spite in a huff, then leaving the child custody piece to be ironed out, or relying on the mother to do the right thing. Fuck That. If you feel you’ll make the better parent, fight for it. Fight like a muthafucka. Get your priorities right–sell those spinning rims and hire yourself a lawyer. And not no TV rent-a-lawyer, or a laywer/real estate agent, or anyone who will do it pro bono. Because they may have a law degree, but very often they will fuck you up by not reading the fine print. Hire someone who knows what the fuck they are doing. Someone who knows that, as a man, once you give the divorce, you have no cards left to hold. So play that muthafucka WELL. Spend that lawyer money. You’ll buy $200 Jordans but not pay for a lawyer? Ok. Truth to tell, you don’t need your kids anyway.

In other news, Dame Dash got his house foreclosed on! I remember meeting Dame for the first time at a Vibe event some years ago… dude was THE self-promoter, talking about building this empire. All these years later, he got it right, kinda. Hope he bounces back and keeps his crib.

Onward

Ok, the reborn Cleveland Scene just had a joint to celebrate being back in style and shit, and had the best spread I’d seen in a while…. Sushi and the whole nine. A lot of stuff I didn’t even know what the fuck it was, but it was crazy-tastey. I hate those small-ass plates they give you at shit like this, so I’ve devised a method to get the maximum use of every square inch of your plate.

Now, look at my plate:

The key here is to put food on the plate in a counter-clockwise fashion and build upwards, like the Aztecs. Food like sushi makes this easier. Plate-building is a skill budding journalist and writers will need to know as the lay-offs are coming fast and furious. When the food is free eat a lot. I mean, sure, I don’t know what it was, but I’m not dead , right?

Onward.

Is it me, or is there this weird new genre? MILF TV, where older women are flaunting their sex appeal, has replaced T-and-A TV. I’m not dissing it, I’m saying it’s kind of taking over, certainly in the reality TV game.

Reality TV either features young women, gay men, or older, ass-hot spankable woman your older sister probably went to the mall with. Which is kinda hot. For me, most of the women of reality TV aren’t old enough to be my mother, like the term “MILF” signifies. But a few are, and that’s OK with me.

I don’t know why some cats chase after these young chicken-heads, man. Younger women, while hot horizontally, are headaches in high heels. As I get older, I find that older women are highly underrated. Square biz. That may change when I hit my 60s. But given the way ladies are taking care of themselves? Maybe not.

I guess I’m confused about whether turning in underage T-and-A-type TV for older T-and-A-type reality TV is a good thing, given the fact that most of these vacuous reality-show women look to have had work done. I don’t know if that’s a positive message to send to viewers, a negative message or a net wash.

Like, I used to have a thing for Vicki Gunvalson, not entirely unrelated to the fact that 1) she resembles someone very close to me and B) I’m on record as an ass man, and Vicki’s packing some action in the back, if you get my drift. Anyways, imagine my dismay when I found out she’s had work done — I was devastated.

I’m in the minority, maybe, but I prefer the natural beauty of a woman, wrinkles and all — with maybe an hour of yoga or spinning class a day —  the Booty Bot-chicks you see who are, like 30 percent plastic, all strings and gurneys. As I say on my joint on The Root, I’m really looking forward to Real Housewives of Atlanta even if most of the women are in my age range.

Random picture time … this one from a vegetarian march in The Village early this summer. Carnivores — like me — this is supposed to be our colon. On Parade.

Moving on.

Okay, so I did a joint on Hancock that never made it to market. So I thought I’d put it up here.

Enjoy.

Seeing is Believing

Hancock, if not the best film of Will Smith’s career, is second only to Iron Man as best film of the summer. And to think, I almost didn’t see it, because the critics were panning it like an Adam Sandler film, and I think I understand why. Film critics are so used to mindless summer fun-type of films with little plot but lots of laser beams, grumpy aliens and maybe some brief nudity for Dad or pre-pubescent Junior. Every summer film has one thing in common: a plot that can be summed up in one line. As brilliant and subtle as Iron Man is, it is still a movie about a rich guy in a magic suit who triumphs over evil. This logline describes every incarnation of Batman or Superman to ever make it to the big screen. Iron Man stands out because unlike Bruce Wayne, Tony Stark is not just a rich asshole with anger problems. He’s a complex hero, not altogether likable but not above redemption. John Hancock is a character with just an unbelievably satisfying twist that doesn’t involve radioactive spiders or anti-war rhetoric. At the moment of the reveal, I gasped audibly. Vincent Ngo has written the most perfect superhero movie script since …. well …. Iron Man.

Hancock is not a color-by-numbers summer blockbuster. It’s not a popcorn-muncher. Although kids should see it, it is certainly not a kids’ film. This film sells itself as a superhero story, and that’s a necessary deception. Will Smith, whose Overbrook Entertainment is in on the money-side, needed to put butts in the seats. You see all the CGI stuff in the commercials, and that’s fine and dandy, but Hancock was mispromoted with good reason — it’s not the kind of film Americans go see. Unlike Men In Black or Independence Day, two of Smith’s summer blockbusters, it can’t accurately be described in one line. There’s no Jeff Goldblum, no wise-cracking, chain-smoking worms. And sadly, no Rosario Dawson. There are lots of explosions and special effects, but the film is layered with incredible, unexpected complexity.

What some are describing as an “implausible plot-twist” at about midpoint — or top of the second act — of the movie is, perhaps, the most remarkably simple explanation, the most ingenious plot device ever seen in a superhero movie. Ever. Consider, that Superman in merely the secularized legend of Jesus the Nazarene re-told: The son of a powerful benevolent being sent to earth to save us all from ourselves. This point, not unrelated at all to why I don’t understand that Hancock requires more suspension of belief than any other film. The premise behind Hancock is not only plausible, but — if you are a Believer — probable. The problem is that it isn’t film for Americans, for people that don’t read much or expect much from film beyond entertainment. It’s an American film with a lot of subtle foreign film sensibilities in the writing — it’s not another Hollywood carbon-copy storyline. The critics missed the boat on this one and did the public a great disservice, kinda. I say “kinda” because, despite the reviews, Hancock beat the competition and did even better overseas. Small wonder.

At the center of this film is a heart that has more in common with films like Wings of Desire or Leon, foreign films about impossible, seemingly implausible love affairs with intricate, unexpected narratives. Hancock is not the story of a superhero with a drinking problem. Rather, it is a nuanced tale of biblical mythology, love and longing and the very real possibility that soulmates should not necessarily be together. Not only should you see it. You should see it twice.

]]> http://www.jimiizrael.com/?feed=rss2&p=45 1 http://www.jimiizrael.com/?p=39 http://www.jimiizrael.com/?p=39#comments Thu, 14 Aug 2008 12:38:37 +0000 jimiizrael http://www.jimiizrael.com/?p=39 I’m not sure I understand the problem with the problem is with the new Ben Stiller film Tropic Thunder. Not that I advocate taking pot shots at the mentally challenged, but it seems to me as if the outrage of the humorless has become a cheap way to get attention and TV time. Offense and Moral Outrage has turned the nightly news into an intellectual Gong Show, where you and I validate these idiots trying to put restraints on art and free expression. Enough already. I’m over it. I think people see the way some black people can get offended and get press and think, I can do that do. It’s caused alot of apathy and Outrage Fatigue regarding racial and other issues. If another million moms, million mongoloids or a million mopes McMarch, I’m gonna go apeshit. Live your life, for Christ’s sake. Outarage is not a spectator sport.

I famously was taken to task for using the word retard, and there was some minor outrage.

I was on some talk show in the middle of Finnish-ButtHole, KY, talking about George Bush, who I described as a retard. We went to commercial break and Sue Wiley, the MILFy host of the show turns to me, without missing a beat and says. “I’ll have you know my BROTHER is PROFOUNDly retarded.”

“Mazeltov,” I said. Some hillbilly got on the horn and called my boss’s boss. They were perplexed, but I don’t know why. They hired me to be outrageous, and got thier money’s worth. Nobody that doesn’t work at a newspaper in Kentucky can spell well enough to write letters to the editor or picket signs, so I wasn’t worried. No offense to my Kentucky folks.

Anyway.

Here’s a random picture of half of my Kentucky Loft.

But I digress.

This isn’t the first movie Stiller’s been in where ‘tards were talked up or even made fun of. My work-wife Jasmyne Cannick tried to start a fire because Robert Downey Jr. plays a white man playing a black guy. First of all, let’s get this put of the way: Downey is fucking brilliant. When I saw him play white America’s first crackhead, I knew he was the ish. Jazzi wants to draw a line from Downey to Shirley Q. Liquor. That dog don’t hunt. Liquor is trying to press buttons for the sake of fun a profit: Downey is taking an artistic challenge. Acting is an art without boundaries. Art cannot have boundaries. I don’t want to live in a country where a white man can’t play a black guy, whether it’s art or it’s blackface.

Apropos of nothing, somebody thinks they’ve found Bigfoot. Jesus Christ on a Scooter.