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(Preface: Am I on some black stuff today or what? I think it's a coincidence, but every bit of news that's struck my fancy today just so happens to explore some hot topics. Also, I had to hotlink the New York Times photo from the article to your right for this post because this Marques J. Redd character, a recent Harvard Graduate is not exactly hard on the eyes...whew!)

A New York Times article published today explores the growing discrepancies among black college students born in America versus those whose families were immigrants. According to the article, 8% (around 530) of Harvard's undergraduate student population is black. I should have been included in that number but that's alright, I'm not bitter...anymore (for more clarity read my bio). At a recent Harvard black alumni reunion, the issue of the type of black student being accepted to Harvard and other top universities was raised. It seems now there is a growing concern among many affirmative-action proponents that the wrong students are reaping the benefits. Statistically, only 1/3 of those black students are what Harvard African American studies professor and author Henry Louis Gates, Jr. would call,

"disadvantaged by the legacy of Jim Crow laws, segregation and decades of racism, poverty and inferior schools, who were intended as principal beneficiaries of affirmative action in university admissions."

Before I get all fidgety, let me just say, I renounce the notion that every single black undergraduate student at Harvard University is there by the help of affirmative-action. Gates' statement implies this and it just ain't so. This is only one of the many issues about which Gates and I differ.

Being that I attended what's called a "little-ivy" (a reference to a smaller version of nine or so "Ivy League" New England colleges) I can vouch for the fact that the majority of blacks there are West Indian, Jamaican, Bahamian, and so on. They are also extremely intelligent. Frighteningly so. My Americanized butt had to work twice as hard to keep up with those over-achievers. I lived in a dorm with many and the upside to my college experience is that I can probably understand patois (Jamaican dialect) better now than the average person.

There's a call out for honest discourse on why second and third generation American black students are being accepted to top schools at higher rates. It doesn't really take a rocket scientist to figure this out, but as usual, somebody's going to make a dissertation out of this. The two Harvard buffs at the helm of this ship are Henry Gates and Lani Guinier (a law professor I used to idolize). The ultimate concern here is that "African Americans" being left out of top universities will not gain entry into the country's "inner circles of power, wealth and influence".

Okay. Time for real talk. First of all, stop whining. Let's not relegate success in this country to gaining "access" because if you're smart and innovative enough, you can create your own inner circles of power, wealth and influence. The Vietnamese have. Secondly, attending a top university is not necessarily in direct correlation to power and success. Even statistics show us that. Thirdly, it's time to get the mirror out folks. Looks like afirmative action didn't go as planned. All bets on the table, I'd say it never will.

We play a huge part in perpetuating the victim mentality that has "kept black kids down" so to speak. Yes, things are systemic and institutionalized, but I can't think of a better defense for overcoming odds than to look at the drive of the immigrant population who can attend the same horrible schools and succeed.

The article does bring some balance by discussing schools' failure to accept enough lower-class white students as well. Read it, draw your own conclusions. I'm of the persuasion that people of all races could learn a thing or two from the work ethic of those from other countries.

(Hat tip: Joanne Jacobs)

 

Some of the better discussion I've seen on racism, my friend Avery breaks it down rather practically, discussing the general misapplication of the term. He also talks about the blind eye we turn to certain realities, like police brutality. I'd read it if I were you.

 

On June 10, during a rountable discussion on ESPN, Larry Bird commented that the NBA needed more white superstars. I think it's worthwhile to point out that the question of whether the NBA could use more white stars was actually asked of Bird. He simply responded to the question. Was it a set up? Who knows. While Bird went on to explain his rationale,

"I think it's good for a fan base because as we all know, the majority of the fans are white America. And if you just had a couple of white guys in there, you might get them a little excited...But it is a black man's game and it will be forever. I mean the greatest athletes in the world are African-American,"

the masses were dwelling on the "more white superstars" comment. The media ensued. People were making all kinds of racial accusations, and as columnist Leonard Pitts put it,

"You'd think Bird had burned a cross on magic Johnson's lawn, so great has the uproar been. He's been called a "lunkhead" a "nitwit" and a "bigot" among other choice epithets."

Thankfully, many people have come to the rescue of Bird, who probably has a better rapport with black people than the average white American, being that he did play with them for so many years in the NBA.

Mark Starr of Newsweek has one of the better commentaries I've read thus far on the Larry Bird fiasco. He brings things into a broader perspective remarking,

"Now, older and far more cautious if not downright cowardly, I am more likely to avoid than to address the racial issues of this era. While such matters still fascinate me, attempts to discuss race-no matter how reasoned and rational you may believe your own voice to be-are fraught with peril. I have little appetite for how ugly and accusatory the discourse can rapidly turn and appropriate fear of how it can tarnish a reputation. It is simply not safe for a white man (just ask Paul Hornung) or a black man (just ask Bill Cosby) to engage the subject publicly with any degree of candor."

Preach brother, preach. The reactions to Bird's comments could be a lot worse. Then again, they could be a lot better too. Ultimately, anyone with eyes can see that the NBA is dominated by black players. Does this mean they need more white players? It depends on your definition of "need". If "need" is dictated by ticket, paraphernalia, and endorsement sales, then probably, yes. If "need" is dictated by an overwhelming desire to make every crevice of the world "equal opportunity", no. There are 500% more black superstar basketball players than there are white. And? There are many reasons for this. One, in my opinion being that black culture pushes out better players. Now don't get all intense. I don't say this with pride as this isn't necessarily something to gloat about. There are cultural and socioeconomic factors at work in this reality for which both black and white people an be held accountable. Historically, in certain communities one's ability to play ball has been exalted above one's ability to think. This is a can of worms I don't wish to open at this present time. Another day another post.

Whether Larry Bird was right or wrong is not really paramount. Even columnist Starr agrees with that

"Though I'm not sure Bird is right, I can certainly make the argument for him. Even black hip-hop culture, which has captivated white suburban kids, seems to fire on all cylinders-the music, the movie, the mooning on the MTV awards-when a white superstar like Eminem is channeling it."

I can agree with this statement mostly. Except I disagree that hip-hop culture is "black". The response Bird got is pretty typical in this country. We can talk about black/white sports issues in barber shops, supermarkets, and family rooms, but certainly not on ESPN. The disappointing thing is that when someone really does step out of line in their comments, people turn a deaf ear because wolf has been cried so many times.

 

Food stamps are being replaced with "Electronic Beneftis Transfer" or "EBT" for short. Apparently, the Federal Government is shifting the paper stamps to a plastic, bank type debit card. I never thought I'd see the day.

 

I generally try to refrain from commentary about "Slick Willie". A good fifty percent of the general public has done a fair amount of ripping him to shreds. At this present time, I don't see the worth and to be completely honest, it's just not fun any more. It's kind of like stealing from the ice cream man. It just gets old and after awhile, the ice cream doesn't taste as good. These days, Mr. Bill has perfected the role of miserable sap so I figure, why kick a guy who's down? Maybe he's learned his lesson. Maybe he's had a rebirth. Maybe he found Jesus. Then again, maybe he's still faulty. Yep, definitely faulty.

I find something utterly detestable in the fact that Clinton has decided to "come clean" on the cusp of the release of his new autobiography. No doubt, all these shenanigans were scripted to say the least. While interviews abound, the most publicized was not 60 minutes, Nightline or the Today Show. It was Oprah. And boy was it ever Oprah. I was privileged not to see this mockery of "truth" take place. I only caught bits and pieces of the "After Show" last night. When I got a chance to review the transcript, I was surprised to see that good old biased Oprah maintained a steady flow of probing questions on why Clinton lied:

Oprah: "But, ultimately, why didn't you tell the truth?"

Bill: "I was afraid that if I did it, at the time, that (a) he would go out and indict a lot of people, falsely, and (b) the hysteria would cause me to be run from office, and that the bad guys would win, yeah."

The portion I caught was a pseudo-remorseful Clinton, pointing the finger at Kenneth Starr and the evil Republicans for bringing him to a place where he had to lie. He remarked that even Hilary knew of their scheming to oust him out of office and for that reason alone, she was accepting and forgiving of him. According to Bill, the issue of his infidelity was to be handled within the family and not a matter of interest to the American people. At this comment, the audience broke into applause. If I were in the audience, I would sat in my seat with my hands folded.

Sorry buddy. When you're the leader of the free world, your infidelity affects everyone. It comes with the territory. Things flow from the head down so you better believe that "choice" you made to disgrace your family left us wide open and vulnerable to the enemy--quite literally. I cannot tolerate the blame game. With all due respect (sorta), grow a spine. The logic of blaming your lies on defense against your "enemies" just doesn't fly. I gave you a chance Willie and once again, you let me down.

(Hat tip: Hugh Hewitt)

 

In 1994, a dreadful event descended on the face of this world. A young, teenage American boy staying in Singapore had his backside flogged. The masses were insensed. Mothers were outraged. Michael Fay's alleged crimes in Singapore warranted what America felt was an inhumane punishment. Debates were rampant. Yet, people around my neck of the woods never quite understood the debate.

We've all been in a busy supermarket. We've all heard little Johnny crying bloody murder. We've all heard little Johnny's mom try unsuccessfully to use psychology to quiet him. We've all seen it fail to work. We've all wanted to smack Johnny; or at least wished his mother would. Or maybe you're one of those people who have amazing self-control and compassion and have never wanted to inflict bodily harm on a small child. I am not one of those people. My name is Ambra, and my parents beat my butt. The preferable term here is "spanking", but within a cultural context, there are many who know the word "beat" is merely an idiom and not literal. I come from a long line of corporal punishers. The fact that I say this with so much pride is a bit disturbing. I am still proud to say I am a product of spanking.

I wasn't a bad kid, but I was definitely a smart-mouth (some things never change). If you attempted to reason with me, you would have to enter into a full-out, head-on debate. This was something my mother refused to do and thus she employed other methods to "help" me to obey. Generally speaking, this form of "help" didn't feel good. Spankings took place in the bathroom, hands on the toilet, bent over. Those five seconds were agonizing. That is, the five seconds before the lifting of my father's hand made contact with my "innocent" rear-end. Fervent prayers were sent up on my behalf in hopes that somehow he would miss or have a change of heart. I'd always preferred my mother's discipline to that of my father. She had mercy. At least then I could "fake cry" since she never spanked too hard. We always got spanked for attitudes, not actions. Being that most actions are rooted in attitudes, this was probably a good thing. The weapon of choice was usually a thin, wooden rod kept strategically on the ledge over the door. In desperation however, my mom was known to use the first thing she could get her hands on (a slipper, a magazine, a feather). Considering her weak hand, this was usually more comical than painful. Resisting "help" was a big no-no. I'll never forget the summer when my younger brother ran from an impending spanking. When my mom finally caught up with him, he evaded her swing and boldly taunted, "Ha ha...missed!" Thank God he was wearing a helmet. I'm surprised he made it out of that situation alive. When we were left home with a babysitter, my siblings and I would go around the house, collecting all the wooden rods and any other potential spanking weaponry. We'd then proceed to throw them into our wooded backyard. This is where they rest to this very day, probably buried next to my deceased shitzu. It was our grand scheme to rid our household of spankings altogether. It never worked.

When recounting childhoods with friends, I found that many people I knew had not been spanked. Was my family odd? Was this cultural or values-centerd? I still don't know. It does seem however that the baby-boomer generation was a bit more comfortable than mine with the idea of swatting their kids. Back when Rikki Lake was still a credible show, she ran an episode on corporal punishment that left me outraged. I was so outraged that I actually wrote the show a letter which I'm sure was filed under "Raving Lunatics". On her show, corporal punishment was portrayed as pure child abuse. As one can imagine, the slant of the show was heavily weighted in favor of the more shall we say, "peaceful" approach to conflict resolution. One guest on the show outlined the "steps" she used to discipline her children:

Step 1: You get a warning
Step 2: You get a time-out
Step 3: Privileges are taken away

When I was growing up, we had no steps. It went like this:

Step 1: You do it.

End of story. "One, two, three" magic wouldn't have worked with me. In most staged dialoges on the issue of corporal punishment, you have one side that espouses the "1, 2, 3 magic" philosophy. Representing the other side, in a "fluke" I'm sure, you usually have the insanely psychotic parents who beat the living daylights out of their children every time they get a chance. I think my family fell somewhere in between these two. Spankings were few but meaningful.

I never presume to tell other people how to raise their children. To spank or not to spank is the parent's decision. Spanking is one thing. Child abuse is another. One would think it depends on the nature of the child. What I do not tolerate is people, laws, and organizations who try to usurp the rights of parents by telling them what they cannot do. It's a shame these days parents can't even discipline their own children without fear of getting commentary from the liberal peanut gallery. My parents had to use caution when spanking my sister because she'd get hysterical and start shrieking and thrashing around the house at the very mention of a spanking. As I'm sure you can imagine, this did not go over well with the neighbors. For fear of anonymous phone calls to "Child Protective Services", it's safe to say, she didn't get spanked much.

The main goal of spanking should be to associate pain with disobedience or sin. For the average five-year old, discipline requires consistency. This is why you don't see first-graders on the Dr. Phil Show. You can only reason so much with a child. For me, spanking was only preparation for the chastising that would come later in life. This is the kind that really hurts. This was the kind that could ruin your life. For many, it was worth it for the sake of a few sore bottoms.

Every now and then I turn on the local news and see some idiotic criminally ignorant behavior on the part of my generational counterparts. At times I am thoroughly convinced some of them are the people who never felt the sting of a few love taps. Spankings aside, forms of discipline should come out of love. Whether it be spanking, grounding, or loss of privileges, parents who don't set up consequences for their children in some form or another are setting their kids up for failure. Eventually, we'll all be paying for it with our tax dollars.

Update: While perusing the web today, I came across this. Here we have a Christian on the complete opposite end of the corporal punishment spectrum. To each "hits" own I guess.

 

Reviews have not been good for Fox's latest attempt to ride the popularity of hip-hop culture. The new show stars current B-list rappers Method Man and Redman, portraying get this, two rich rappers (ingenious). Now that's deep. The show is centered around the "comedic" trials as these two move into an affluent white, suburban neighborhood. I know, you're probably wondering how they ever thought up such a creative storyline. This stuff just gets old.

According to Method Man, the show is not what he truly envisioned. A recent interview with the LA times revealed Method's true desire,

"I'm trying to keep this show ghetto, and there's a way for it to be both ghetto and intelligent...but it's not going that way."

Must. Restrain. Sarcastic. Comments. He continues,

"I hate the title because it locks both of us right in, rather than just calling it something like 'Two Guys in the 'Hood.' We've got a lot on the line here. I'm a musician. At the end of the day, if this show fails, all these other people can go on to other projects. We'd have to go back to where we came from, and they'd be saying, 'Oh, there goes Method Man and Redman, they went Hollywood.' Where are we going to go?"

Cry me a river. The show's premiere received fairly good ratings, thanks to that Soulplane brand of success. Some critics are calling the show "coonish". An accusation to which Method replies,

"We can't all be the Cosbys. There needs to be a yin and yang as far as what is shown of black people on television."

Earth to Method Man, Earth to Method Man, where are you? These people are not even on the same planet let alone the same page. Much to Method's dismay, the show's producers have laced it with hokey jokes and laugh tracks. And they believe this is the reason to blame for the show's potential failure? Someone please, shoot the horse. Estimated time on the air: two more months.

 

It just doesn't end. Please excuse my sarcasm...

These are the people who make me ashamed to be from the Pacific Northwest. Once again, citizens with nothing better to do are intent on making a national spectacle of themselves. Off the coast of Vancouver, British Columbia, a whale rescue is underway. The killer whale's name is Luna and apparently he's lost. First of all, whoever thought "Luna" was a masculine name needs to be fired. A group of people are attempting to "re-unite him with his pod". The action gets better. Native Indians of the Mowachat-Muchalaat have attempted to thwart the plans of Luna's captors. They believe Luna is the spiritual embodiment of a former chief who died just days before the whale showed up. THREE YEARS AGO. I respect this culture greatly, but no one ever said they were perfect. While scientists were trying to capture Luna, the natives canoed into the area and sang songs and called to him. Yeah okay. Songs. This is madness. Let's stop worshipping the animals people.

 

[click to enlarge] I am introducing a new aspect to my site. A comic strip. As much as I'd like to combat the evil quips of Aaron MacGruder's Boondocks, I'm just not that talented. However, it seems I have stumbled upon the same gem of do-it-yourself comic strip creation as my fellow brotherhood blogger Cobb. I only hope he won't call me a biter. For that reason, I'll use different characters. I've toyed with this idea for awhile. I needed a remedy to the numerous thinks that play out in my head yet due to time constraints, and this thing I have called a job, never make it to published format. So I present to you: CrazyWorld. A foray of students from varying backgrounds, all thrust into an elite private school bubble where the news dictates many conversations. Based loosely on my experiences in predominately white, semi-liberal institutions, I will introduce the characters and further the concept at a later date.

 

Joe at the Evangelical Outpost is asking why the blogosphere consists of so many white, middle-class men giving their opinion on politics. Just why did the chicken cross the road? Why doesn't Don King cut his hair? Why did O.J. do it? These are the mysteries of life. I am neither white nor male. I had to post my own picture to prove this since my thought process has been dubbed "white-male thinking" on more than one occasion. These days, however, it's pretty hard to tell what color anybody is on the web unless they say so or post a picture. Which often leads me to believe some of my favorite well-written blogs are really run by a group of red-headed, freckle faced 14-year-old boys in West Oklahoma.

Lots of people have been writing lately on why they started blogging. I wish I had something terribly deep or insightful to say to that question. A year ago, I had no clue what a "blog" was. Through some strange turn of events via a few clicks here and there, I was instantly thrown into the blogosphere, voyeuristically reading about the lives and opinions of other people who seemed to be just as insane as myself. Some conservative, others not. I'm not sure what possessed me to do so, but I finally started my own blog this past January. It wasn't to be know or seen, but because although I enjoyed writing, there was literally nothing in my mortal body that could bring pen to paper. I'm part of the digital generation, who hates writing in cursive and thanks to spell-check, can't even spell "definitely" correctly. (Note: prior to spell-checking this post, I'd spelled it wrong too. Case and point.) Unlike other sites, I'm less about reporting the news, and more about filtering this world through an ex-yuppified, somewhat sarcastic, black, staunch conservative yet non-traditional, young perspective. I have now staked out my little spot on the blogosphere lawn and I actually have some repeat readers. Which leads me to the next question of who exactly reads this tripe? Certainly not other 22-year-olds it seems. Just where are my people?

The Evangelical Outpost article listed off different categories of bloggers including some "Gen-Y" (under 25) bloggers. First of all, while we're on the subject, what is this Generation-Y drivel? Which overpaid sociologist made that up? I refute that name. Let's get something better. In any case, the article only listed off about six people or so under that category. When I go through my list of links, most of the people on there are older than me. It's pretty safe to say, most of my readers are too. How this happened, I just don't know. But I guess that's why I blog...