The Filibuster Heard Round the World

Senator Murphy addresses the Senate floor.

I've been watching some of the Senate filibuster on gun control, started by none other than my own senator, Connecticut's Chris Murphy. He's one of the few people I've ever voted for who I can actually say I'm proud of. He also supports Pathways, so he's definitely good in my book.

The filibuster has been powerful. Especially when going through the many gun tragedies in just the past few months. I'm proud of Senator Murphy, and whether you agree with him or not, you have to give him credit for doing...fucking something. For fuck's sake we can not simply accept these tragedies as the norm. When Bill O'Reilly is calling for gun reform, you know it's reached a tipping point. I realize that the likelihood of any change being made is very slim but I can't give up hope. I realize even if the changes they want (basically for people on the terror watch list to be banned from buying guns and to expand universal background checks for now, and eventually to have a ban on assault weapons) are made, they might not make a huge difference. But how can we just keep doing nothing? 

Thoughts and prayers are not solution. Banning an entire religious group from our country isn't a damn solution.

So I'm proud of and appreciative for Senator Murphy and the others who are trying to do something to affect change. However, I do have some concerns. They are the same concerns I have had since 9/11. And it's not "Islamic terrorism." It's a loss of liberty and freedom because of the fear of "Islamic terrorism."

People who disliked W. Bush rightly cried foul over the the ill-advised and ill-conceived wars, as well as the Patriot Act, torture and many other things. Those same people have been perfectly fine with Obama's invasions of privacy and endless drone strikes. I try to be consistently cynical and critical. Obama hasn't been much better with foreign policy than Bush was. He has been just as deadly and just as secretive, with the same disastrous results. My concern with the proposed gun reform is with these secret lists. We should get a more detailed explanation of what it takes to get on the terror watch list and the no fly list. The clandestine nature of it worries me greatly. On the other hand, I don't mind that people on those lists are not able to get a gun, because I believe having less guns overall is a good thing.

The problem is, we know how these lists work. We saw it with the Patriot Act, NSA domestic spying, CIA torture and rendition, etc. We can't just give up all of our rights and our privacy to the government in the name of fighting terror. Again, I'm not a big fan of, or believer in, the right for any person to have guns, but I'm also not a fan of giving up rights, whether I personally like them or not. Once we give them up, we don't usually get them back.

The problem with these lists is that most people on the terror list have never committed a crime, and many are on the list in error. Is it acceptable to take away their rights? Are we pre-cogs from Minority Report? Then again, I'm all for making it harder for the people on the list to get a gun because I'm all for making it harder for everybody to get a gun. 

We should have much more oversight on these lists and on all of the activities of our government and its agencies. That is a must. There are also many things that we must do to address gun deaths. 

We should have universal background checks. We should close the gun show loophole. We should start a national gun registry. We should have mandatory gun insurance. We should allow government research on gun violence. We should invest in creating smart bullets & guns. We should make a law stating that if a person commits a crime with a gun, they lose their right to own a gun. 

Those are just a few suggestions. I'm all for discussing more. We can't just focus on the terror list. The government only labels certain people "terrorists" and we all know who that is, despite the fact that a different group of people commits most mass shootings. So we need to get a better understanding of these lists and we can't think banning everybody on these lists is the only solution. 

Similarly, we can't think an assault weapons ban will solve everything, if it even passes or if it's even proposed. I'm all for it. but it's not the only solution. 

By the way, I don't give a flying pink elephant beershit if you call them assault weapons or semi-automatic rifles or military-style weapons or machine guns. High capacity, rapid fire guns should not be in the hands of civilians. 

Or the police. All gun control measures should be met with equal measures to demilitarize and retrain police officers.

These are my opinions. We may not agree on everything, but let's talk it out until we do. That may include some yelling and name calling, but that's what it takes sometimes. It's not going to be easy, but ignoring it because you'd rather see heart emojis and "love is love" posts on Facebook till the end of time, or you don't want to disrupt Sunday dinner by openly disagreeing with a family member, isn't going to solve anything. 

Let's hold our government representatives accountable as well. This filibuster is important and admirable, but what really matters is what happens after Senator Murphy gets the late night gut rumbles and has to concede the floor. When this bill is rejected, like it was after Sandy Hook, what will we do then? Forget about it until the next record setting mass shooting?   

I'll leave you with a letter from a parent of a Sandy Hook victim to the families of the Club Pulse victims.

And if you read that, you'll probably need this gif of a fat basset hound running to cheer you up...

Dogs make everything all right. Keep on running, doggie. Don't ever stop. 

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

Voluntary Weirdos

I've been working with Pathways/Senderos for 8 years (!) now, and I have a lifetime of stories. Working with kids, most of whom live in poverty, a lot of these stories can be heartbreaking. Many are heartwarming. Some are just plain silly or ridiculous. Some are stories about things our kids tell us about their lives at home or in school; some are things that occur at the Center. One day I'd love to compile the best stories for a book or movie or HBO Series or maybe just my own personal journal. 

With all these stories and experiences, I've learned how resilient kids can (and have to) be on a daily basis just to survive. They've taught me more than I've taught them etc etc pull your heartstrings yada yada. In all sincerity, I admire these kids.

Some of the strangest stories are from adults, though. As a non-profit program that serves kids, we have opportunities for volunteering and we have had many amazing volunteers. We are very appreciative of their dedication and hard work. They add an important element to our program. However, there have also been several...interesting volunteers. Individuals who should probably be working on their own issues before trying to help others. Yet even some of these volunteers have brought something positive to the table. 

Then there's the more, shall we say, problematic volunteers. Part of my job is recruiting volunteers, so I have to take partial credit/blame for the people who end up actually volunteering, but I can't be blamed for ALL of the weirdos who simply contact me about volunteering. 

The worst case of a volunteer gone wild occurred before I started working there so I can't be held responsible for that, either. A student from CCSU volunteered at the Center years back. Staff members always got a weird vibe from him, but he seemed harmless. One day he bugged out then left and never came back. Later, they saw a story in the news about a CCSU student who stabbed his girlfriend. It was him. 

So we stopped taking college volunteers for a while. We do background checks, but not every person with violent tendencies has a record, so there is always somewhat of a risk.

One of the strangest volunteers we've had since I started was a retired pediatrician. He seemed like a nice enough guy and he was well respected in the city. He wanted to give back to the community now that he was retired. He even offered to give our kids free physicals. That set off a little alarm in my head because although it sounds helpful, would it even be legal? And where would he do these physicals? At the Center? What would they entail? 

Turns out it didn't really matter, because he only came to the Center twice. He didn't exactly make a connection with our kids. We have a few elderly volunteers, so it's not the age that prevented him from making a connection. He just never made the required effort. He must have thought he made a decent connection with me though because after the second visit, I received an email from him. It was one of those chain emails explaining how all Muslims are evil and that Christians need to do something soon before Muslims take over the world. I replied (probably the only person in existence to actually reply to his emails) and told him that we are open to people of all different faiths. I also asked not to be included in any more email chains. He apologized and I never heard from him again. 

But we sure heard about him. A few years later he died amidst a sexual abuse scandal. Former patients were accusing him of molestation. The case is still ongoing. 

Those "free physicals" really took on a whole new, horrifying meaning. So, yeah. Trust your instincts, especially when it comes to the safety of kids. 

Then there was the most recent volunteer debacle. Potential volunteer. She didn't make it past the interview. She was an older woman, a former social worker with an interest in our program and lot of experience with kids. We communicated through email a few times and I asked her to come in. She was very pleasant. I gave her my 10 minute spiel about Pathways and volunteers, then I asked her to tell me more about herself. 

Literally ten seconds into her life story, she starts crying. 

Dammit.

I tell her its ok, take your time. I may come off as an unfeeling asshole on here (hell, I may even BE an unfeeling asshole) but I know how to at least act empathetic. When she finally composed herself, she told me how she's going through this horrible court case that has basically ruined her life. She needed to do community service. I told her that we normally don't accept volunteers if it's court ordered community service, but that I would at least hear her out. 

She explained that about a year earlier, she was driving with her mother. Someone was walking in the street ("probably drunk," she was sure to include) and he hit her. Now I was confused. So the pedestrian hit the car? And she somehow knew he was drunk? She claimed that at the time, she was very confused and unsure of what happened. When she got home and tried to help her mom out of the car, she couldn't open the passenger door. That's when she knew something was wrong. 

THAT'S when she knew? 

She said she must have blacked out. The cops eventually came to her house and she was arrested for leaving the scene of a crime. Now she was still dealing with the court case. "But," she said as she held back tears, "I just hope something good can finally come from all of this." I understand and appreciate that sentiment. We all make mistakes and deserve redemption and if we can make something positive out of a negative situation we should do all what we can to make it happen. 

But something was really off. There was a lot missing from the story. I told her we probably couldn't take her on because of our policy, but I'd talk to my superiors. She thanked me and left.

We immediately went online to check out her story. What I don't understand is how people think they can keep secrets in this day and age. I mean, there's this thing called Google. It's really great for finding information, especially if it's public information from court dockets and popular news sites. 

We easily found out the rest of her story. Not only did she leave the scene of the crime, she was drunk, and the guy she hit ended up dying. She was charged with a DUI and involuntary manslaughter. So, yeah, a little more serious than she let on. I didn't appreciate how she seemed to blame the guy for hitting her and claiming he was drunk when in fact, it was all her. I also didn't appreciate how she left all of that out of her story. But I really didn't appreciate how she didn't tell me ANY of this in our initial conversations. Not one mention of the court ordered community service. It wouldn't have mattered, we weren't taking her on with or without the lying, but at least I wouldn't have wasted my time. 

I'll stop here, but know that I could go on for another few thousand words just on our volunteers. I'll save the rest for the movie.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

How is Supporting Donald Trump Racist? (Answered in 1 Sentence)

The other day a friend asked me why it has recently become popular to call all Donald Trump supporters racist. It's a fair question. No it's not. It's a dumb question, for a few reasons. First, it's not just recently. I have been labeling Donald Trump supporters racist for almost  a year. And I'm not the only one.

I'm just the only one that made this very convenient vine.

The other reason why it's a dumb question is because there is no shortage of evidence that Donald Trump is a racist with racist beliefs, actions, and policies. I mean seriously, if you have paid attention to Donald Trump even the slightest bit in the past 30 years, his racism (amongst other things) is obvious.

But I understand that some people don't equate supporting a racist as being racist itself. That's fucking stupid, but it is not an uncommon belief. Nobody wants to be seen as a racist. And supporting Donald Trump isn't like calling someone the n-word or refusing to serve a black guy at a restaurant or something blatantly racist like that. You love black people! You eat lunch with the black guy at work! You just happen to think Donald Trump is the best guy to run the country!

Well, guess what? That's racist as shit!

If you are still unsure of why supporting Donald Trump makes you a racist, let me explain in one sentence:

If you support Donald Trump, you support a guy that wants to ban an entire religious group from the US; a guy that has the full support of the KKK and has not denounced their support in any way; a guy whose father was either in the KKK or had close ties with them; a guy who will not admonish his fans when they use racial/ethnic slurs; a guy who will not admonish his fans, and in fact encourages them, when they attack protesters or random immigrants;  a guy who was sued by the Justice Department for the racist housing policies of his real estate firm in New York; a guy who bought an $85,000 advertisement in the New York Post damn near begging the state to kill 5 young black men for a rape they didn't commit; a guy who still has not apologized to those 5 young black men after they were found not guilty; a guy who thinks eating a taco bowl equates to cultural outreach to "The Hispanics"; a guy who wants to deport millions of those same Hispanics; a guy who's main policy initiative is literally the dumbest idea in the world--building a giant wall on the border between our southern neighbor and ally; a guy who calls those same neighbors and allies murderers and rapists; a guy who claims the border wall is for national security but has never mentioned a wall on our northern border to "protect" us against our more light skinned neighbors; a guy who is so blinded by racism that he doesn't realize at least 40% of undocumented immigrants come here legally on work or student visas and never cross  the Mexican border; a guy who hates immigrants but doesn't realize most new immigrants are coming from India and China and never cross the Mexican border; a guy who thinks Mexicans are so dumb that they don't know how to use tunnels (or, I don't know, planes?) to cross the border; a guy who thinks "The Blacks" and "The Hispanics" and "The Women" love him yet doesn't realize he has historically low support among those groups; a guy who wants to ignore international rules of engagement and kill the entire families of terrorists (only Islamic terrorists, though); a guy who wants to "kick China's ass"; a guy who single-handedly legitimized the Birther movement against Barack Obama and still hasn't provided the proof he claimed to have; if you support all of that, then yes, that makes you a racist.

Any other questions?


I Love You All (Even Donald Trump Supporters Racists, But Only Because Love is the Only Thing That Conquers Hate)...Class Dismissed. 

The past ain't through with us

I never met my grandfathers. One died before I was born and the other died when I was too young to remember. Obviously, that sucks. Huge revelation I know. Our older relatives are conduits to the past and I often feel cheated that I didn't get to spend any time with my grandfathers. I didn't get enough time with my grandmothers either for that matter. And for whatever reason, I never really knew much about them, or my family as a whole. I knew the basics, but I never looked into it much, I think partly because I didn't have much connection to the past besides my grandmothers for a short while.

Recently I have become more interested in learning about my family history. There are many reasons for this (we did a heritage project with the kids at work and it motivated me to learn about my own heritage; spending time with my girlfriend's grandmother; watching my nieces grow up and wanting to build the connection to the past and future generations; the existential dread of getting older and understanding my minimal significance in the grand scheme of things) but the fact is I just want to know more about who I am. It's always about me.

Anyways, a few weeks ago, my mom gave me a newspaper article about her father. It's from The Hartford Courant, published on May 5, 1953. I reprinted it below. This would have probably been one of the feel good stories a newspaper ran to keep people's minds off segregation, Korea, and the inevitable nuclear war with Russia. I found it fascinating because, like any news article, it serves as a snapshot of a moment in time, even if it is a "fluff piece."

Most of all, I like it because it sheds light on the type of man my grandfather was:

The Human Touch, by Bob Zaiman

When Nick Farr first started operating the Frances Soda Shop on Ashley Street about 15 years ago, he inherited a gang of the neighborhood high school kids. The little store had been their hangout under the previous owner and, after meeting Nick for the first time, they knew right away that he was the type of guy who would permit them to continue using the place as headquarters.

They were a nice bunch of kids, not a "wise guy" in the bunch. Most of the time they would lounge around the booths talking about sports and girls and the rest of the things that interest boys in their teens. Sometimes when the talk ran down, they would go over to the magazine rack and pore through the latest issues. They never bought any of the magazines but Nick Farr didn't mind--as long as they replaced them neatly after they were through reading. 

Business slowed down in the latter stages of the evening and then Nick began to join them. There were about 15 boys in the group and it wasn't long before Nick became a sort of a senior member. On nights when the gang went bowling, they took Nick and let him compete with them. If they had problems, they would talk them over confidentially with Nick. He developed into a "big brother" for the Ashley Street crew.

Friendship Lasts

Well, the years sped by, and the boys grew into manhood but they still came around to see Nick and to chat with their old buddies. The strong bond of friendship between the soda shop owner and the boys never weakened. 

Seven weeks ago, the old Ashley Street gang received some shocking news. Nick Farr had been taken seriously ill and would be unable to work for some time. They called a hasty meeting in the soda shop to figure what they could do to help their hospitalized friend.

"Somebody has got to take care of the soda shop," one of them announce. "Nick's wife has three small children on her hands and she can't handle it."

They all agreed that the most important thing to Nick in his hour of need was to keep his business operating. And, right then and there, six of them volunteered their services. Not one of them had ever worked in a soda shop before but they knew the general routine and besides, Elva, the personable girl who worked for Nick, could advise them when they were stumped.

All six members of the old gang had steady jobs during the day, which meant they could only help out at night but that worked out fine since Elva took care of things from 7am to 7pm.

Share Night Shift

And so, seven weeks ago they started working the shop, each taking a different night. They didn't ask for or expect any money for their services. They were helping out a friend who had once taken care of them in the past. 

Barney, Victor, and Fred Castellani, three brothers who lived across the street worked all day on their mason contracting business, were eager to do their bit. So were Tom Glynn, a Hartford Gas Co. employee, and James Leary, who works at the Hamilton Standard Propeller firm.

Ray Lavery, the sixth volunteer, lives in Manchester now but he didn't let that stop him. He made the trip to Hartford on his scheduled work night and took his turn behind the counter, handling the sales of cigarettes, magazines, camera supplies and the dozens of other items in Nick's store.

Nick is out of the hospital now, but he is still unable to work. It will probably be another two months before he will be allowed by his doctor to spend even a few hours in the soda shop. Meanwhile, the six old friends are carrying on for him and they vow that they'll stay there until Nick is completely recovered.

Getting the story of their inspiring and unselfish act was like pulling teeth. They didn't want any publicity.

"There's nothing unusual about what we're doing," they said. "Anybody would do as much for a friend."

Despite what the men said about their actions, they clearly went above and beyond what most people would do for a friend. It's obvious that my grandfather made a strong impression on these individuals for them to go to such lengths to help him. It induces a sense of pride to hear that your family members made a positive impact on the people in their lives; I felt a similar sense of familial/genetic pride at the retirement parties for my parents. Not to mention, the respect and accolades my family members receive work out great for me because all that goodwill usually extends my way without me having to earn it.

One of the best parts of this article is the language. The writer states, "not a 'wise guy' in the bunch" in complete earnestness. It's fantastic. The entire situation is almost inconceivable. What is a soda shop? Nowadays it would take place in a chain yogurt shop, except it went out of business after 6 months and the boys never got to know the owner who ended up dying because he couldn't afford proper healthcare. Dark times. Makes you yearn for nuclear bomb warnings.

I am grateful for the men who helped my grandfather in his time of need. I'm grateful for the Hartford Courant for writing the story and my mom for sharing it with me. I've always recognized the importance of history but I often didn't apply that to my own life and family history. As I get older I realize, if our own family doesn't even care about us after we pass, who will? It's the responsibility of the living to preserve the spirit and memory of the dead.

Besides, the dead tell us a lot about ourselves if we just listen.

That sounds overly supernatural. I just mean that you can learn a lot about the present from learning about the past, and you can learn a lot about yourself from learning about your family, and I like doing both, and that's about that.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

A Legend Called Phife

I really didn't want to write about another dead musical legend. So it goes...

DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince got me into hip hop. A Tribe Called Quest kept me there.

The first rap song I knew by heart was I Think I Can Beat Mike Tyson. The next was Scenario. Scenario is widely considered to be the best hip hop posse cut ever and considered by me to be the best song ever.

People often say certain artists or songs or books "changed their lives" when they really mean "I liked this thing a lot." I can honestly say Scenario changed my life. I fell completely in love with hip hop because of that song and the album it was on and I never looked back. Hip hop has been a part of my identity ever since.

I loved every part of Scenario: the chorus, the beat, the call and response, everybody's energy. Although I was always partial to Busta's antics, even as a kid I knew that the song would not have been the phenomenon it was without the legendary opening verse from Phife the 5 footer. He set everything off, and after hearing his voice come in dropping those first few lines, you had to hear the whole song.

Ay yo Bo knows this, and Bo knows that
But Bo don't know Jack
Cuz Bo can't rap

So simple. So legendary. Bo Jackson was the man at the time and his classic ad series "Bo Knows" with Nike was just taking off; Phife's pop culture and sports references drew me in to rap as a little kid, and I always leaned towards artists with a sense of humor. At the same time, in the same line, he lifted rapping to a level of skill above that of the greatest athlete of my generation. Bo don't know jack cuz Bo can't rap. Rap was something to be taken seriously. A lot of critics, and most people into mainstream music at the time, thought rap was just talking over a beat. Phife proclaimed that it took more talent than any sport, he just made it look easy.

Despite how serious Tribe took their music, they had fun with it.

Q-Tip: Damn Phife you got fat! 
Phife: Yeah I know it looks pathetic, Ali Shaheed Muhammad got me doing calisthenics. 

That was the foundation: fun. Making quality music to enjoy. Some people take hip hop so serious. People forget how much fun golden era hip hop  (either one, late 80s or early-mid 90s) could be. From Biz Markie to Fresh Prince to Phife to Redman to Ol' Dirty to De La Soul, these artists were having fun. Not everyone is as serious as Nas or Mobb Deep or Rakim, and not everyone needs to be. It's a serious art, certainly, but when people stop enjoying it, the music suffers. Tribe eventually stopped having fun, which affected their music and led to their split.

But when they were on, like they were for their first three albums, they were one of the best groups to ever make music. And their last two albums are better than most group's entire discography. If not for comparisons to the first three albums, they would be considered classics themselves. I consider them classics regardless.

Now, if anyone says Phife was their favorite MC and that he had incredible lyrical ability, they are lying. He wasn't the best. He wasn't technically or lyrically amazing. But he did have skills. He had heart. He had a love for his craft. He was self-assured and cocky at times but could be self-deprecating. Height of Muggsy Bogues, complexion of a hockey puck. Most of all, he had wit and an uncanny ability to complement his partners.

That was the beauty of Phife: he made the people around him better. He fit perfectly, and that is a rare skill to possess. He wasn't the most talented person in the group, but he was the most important spoke in the wheel. He was the ill sidekick, more Chewbacca than Robin the Boy Wonder. Being able to mesh with others, complementing another person's style, is a special skill of its own, to be commended just as much as a talented solo act. Not everyone can be (or even wants to be) the center of attention. I always admired him for his ability to create and maintain that chemistry. Helping other people shine is an art. He was able to master that art, while shining himself.

Now if my partners don't look good, Malik won't look good
If Malik don't look good, then Quest won't look good
If the Quest don't look good, then Queens won't look good
But since the sounds are universal, New York won't look good 

This verse from God Lives Through is another classic, and these four bars perfectly encapsulate him as a person and a member of a legendary group. He starts by acknowledging his partners. They come first, always. If they don't look good it's a reflection of him. He is defined by their success. He is always thinking as a part of the whole: his group, his borough, his city. I don't know of many people who so firmly and lovingly embraced their position in life and excelled at that position as Phife.

He always put the group ahead of him. Tip and Sha they all that, Phife Dawg ditto. Q-Tip was the obvious leading man, but Phife was the MVP. Take the first album, People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm. It's a certified classic, but it drags a little at the end. In fact, it drags a little throughout and I think it's because Phife appears on this album less than any other. I love Q-Tip, but the songs benefit from the balance Phife provides; from his vastly different voice to his flow and his punchlines. He added the Everyman element to the group. He kept the songs more grounded; a lot of the songs on the first album were long and meandering, and though that fit with the theme of "travels and paths of rhythm," it made for some less focused, less interesting songs. Phife always added an element of levity and just plain old fun.

There are many classic Phife Dawg verses, but I consider his verse from Keep it Rollin off of Midnight Marauders a quintessential Phife verse. If I had to choose one verse to represent all that is Phife Dawg, this would be it (although, if you were to say it is his verse from Scenario or God Lives Through, I wouldn't argue):

Aiyyo swing swing swing, to chop chop chop
Yo that's the sound when MC's get mopped
(Phife was the master of opening verses. See Scenario, Steve Biko, Oh My God, La Schmoove with the Fu-Schnickens, etc. etc. Something funny, something that sticks, something that makes you want to hear what else he will say.)

Don't come around town without the hip in your hop
(Just funny ass lines everywhere. Funny because of the content and because of how it sounded. It was fun to say and to hear him say it.)

Cause when the shit hits the fan, that ass'll get dropped
MC's wanna attack me but them punks can't cope
I'll have you left without a job, like Isaac from The Love Boat
(Another punch line. Another pop culture reference.)

So money watch your mouth, or I might have to bust ya
Battlin MC's, from JFK to Russia
Back down to London, Sweden and Brazil
Do a U.S. tour for three months and then I chill
(Did Phife create the humblebrag? One of the first rap groups to do world tours. No big deal.)

Styles be fat like Jackie Gleason, the rest be Art Carney
(Pronouncing Carney like Corney. Pop culture, double entendres, twisting pronunciations to create homophones. All of it was like mental ice cream for me as a kid. I couldn't stop eating it up.)

People love the Dawg like the kids love Barney
"I love you, you love me"
The shorty Phife Dawg is your favorite MC
(Phife is for the babies! Probably his silliest line, but he made it work in the verse. Everyone eventually had Barney jokes, Phife was one of the first.)

So move back yaself dread, you know the element
(A little patois, showing his Trinidadian roots, something he often did.)

The Tribe is good for your health like a can of Nutriment
MC's don't have no wins, MC's don't have no wins
I flips it crazier than a busload full of Jerry's Kids
(That's just straight up hilarious. Rap always pushed the limits of good taste.)

Your crew don't want it, man your crew don't want it
But if you feel you can swing it, then money please bring it
(Cocky without being overly aggressive.)

Large Professor in the house 
(Shouting out another rapper on the track and a fellow rap legend. Phife always made space to give props to the greats, and as always, compliment/complement the other artists on the song.)

You know how we do
I stay on your crew
like Mario Lemieux
(Shouted out my favorite hockey payer ever. Bonus points.)

Peace to Ike Love
and the rest of the crew
(Shouting out his people. Always giving love.)

I meet you guys in front the cleaners
Bring the blunts and the brew so
(Phife was a man who appreciated the simple things in life.)

At the end of the verse, Q-Tip chimes in with ad-libs in between bars (whassup...whassup...whassup). He starts to laugh at the end and it feels natural, like they are just having fun together. The love for each other and for the music is deep but it can be seen right on the surface. Tip is enjoying the hell out of this verse and his simple ad-libs and laughter lift Phife's words to a whole other level, which is exactly what Phife does for Q-Tip and anyone else he got on the track with.

There have been many tributes from music websites, like this one; many artists have expressed their sympathies, such as Homeboy Sandman; and others have shared their personal experiences with Phife, like Scott Van Pelt. Then of course there's Busta Rhymes' tribute. I felt the need to add my voice to the chorus of voices singing Phife's praise because of the many hours of joy the man's music gave me, and continues to give me. He truly helped shape my identity. I am forever grateful.

Rest in Power to Phife, the funky diabetic.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

9 ThugLifeHackProTips for Your Next Trip to the Grocery Store

Grocery stores are what the 3rd level of Hell wishes it could be. Unfortunately, they are a necessity in the modern world unless you're willing to face the obesity, high blood pressure, and diabetes that is the fast food lifestyle. The choice isn't easy, because Wendy's nuggets are delicious and after a few minutes in the grocery store, dialysis don't sound all that bad. At some point, though, you'll find yourself in line with all the other suckers and you should learn how to most effectively deal with that reality.

If you're some kind of jerk and you have nothing better to do than wait in line staring at the National Enquirer photos of today's most popular celebrity with the upper thigh cellulite that's setting the fashion world on fire, just jump in the first line you see.

For those of us with lives and things to do and a lick of sense, we want to spend the least amount of time possible in line and there are a few rules and regulations that will help you do just that.

The only flaw with these rules is that not everyone knows or follows them. That's clear every time the 16th "Storm of the Century" of the year is on its way; any courtesy or manners or simple acceptable human behavior is tossed out the door along with all the good carts apparently because I still haven't found one with four functioning wheels ever since I used to push them around Waldbaum's as fast as I could before jumping on the back of it and cruising into the cereal shelf.  

The fact that nobody follows these rules is really more of a flaw in human nature, not a flaw with the rules. The rules are perfect. So as a public service to my friends, family, and the human race at large, I've decided to publish my guide to the quickest, most effective, and least painful grocery store journey possible. 

These nine #ThugLifeHackProTips will help you smoothly maneuver your way through the unwashed sweatpants-wearing hordes that litter the aisles of your local chain grocery store.


1. Live a meager lifestyle. 

Don't require much. Live off of the basics. Water. Almond milk. Blueberries. Bananas. A mouthful of free olives. When you don't need much, you don't have to wait in line at Stop & Shop for much. Buddha said that. 
 

2. Continuously move.

Don't stop at the olive bar, circle the olive bar. Keep the forward momentum. Now, sometimes the free olives won't cut it. You'll need protein. Don't be afraid of the fish or deli section, but only if there isn't a line. If you're desperate, take a ticket and shop in the area near the section. Keep moving until they call your number. A shopper in motion stays in motion. That's Newton's first law of grocer motion. Grotion.


3. Never get a cart. 

Get 3 baskets if you have to. The bulk of the cart, and the aforementioned malfunctioning wheels, impede forward progress. Baskets are preferable because they help limit your purchases to the necessities, and using more than one basket will help you practice for when you get home and take in the groceries. You'll be well prepared to carry the 13 bags in from your car in one trip, because, as you should already know, you NEVER take two trips. 

Clearly I have based my research for this guide on some of the greatest thinkers in history: 

Buddha, Newton, internet meme makers. Only the best and brightest. 

4. Always check the registers. 

Some registers might have a sign reading "credit card only" or "closed after this customer" and the last thing you want to do is waste your time in a line that actively hates you.


5. Size up the people in line. 

What's that? You don't judge people? Oh really? Too bad. That kumbaya shit ain't helping you here, friend. You need to go full Judge Dredd on those lines. You are the law. 


6. The best lines are 12 items or less, but don't assume everyone follows the 12 items or less rule. 

Check their basket. Try to count their items. If they have more than the stated number, it may still be worth getting behind them if the other lines have more people. Bring a calculator if you need. The equation for figuring out the speed of a line is x/y * c = b where x is the number of items in the cart, y is the number of people in line, c is the amount of coupons, and b is the wait time. Save yourself some trouble and memorize the formula.


7. There are a few people to never get in line behind. 

Never get in line behind people with coupons. Never get behind people with carts, people with kids, people with baggy clothes, people with tight clothes, people wearing pajamas or men in open toed sandals.  


7a. Never get behind young men. 

This needed its own category. Young men are the worst. They can be seen looking around frantically, unfamiliar with their surroundings. It's probably the first time they are on their own and they don't know what they are doing. They have one coupon; it's expired but they think it should work just fine. They jump into the first line that shows promise, but their eagerness makes them perform poorly. And everyone ends up with a disease.

Wait, is this my guide to shopping or sex? You know what? Either way, this rule still stands.

 
8. There is one person you should always get behind. 

The old lady with a Vespa. Hear me out. This is the white whale (that's not a fat joke I swear). The old lady in the Vespa is the one you've been looking for your whole life. Or at least the whole time you've been checking out the lines. Use her like Dan Dierdorf on the 72 Dolphins. Get behind that ol' girl and let her open up a hole for you.

Ok, I'm pretty sure this is still the shopping guide but it's getting a little murky.

See, Nani on the scooter has been here before. She's got everything memorized and her ass is motorized. 

See that might sound like something involving sex but I was just referring to the Vespa, not some crazy anal sex toy. Not that there would be anything wrong with that. In fact, I have a section about motorized ass play in my guide, "79 ThugLifeHackProTips for Your Next Mindblowing, Taint Shivering Orgasm," but that's for another day. 

If Granny needs anything, twelve employees are rushing over to help. Someone is bagging all her stuff up. You might think she has coupons, but no. She has the Centrum Silver Special Customer card you don't even know about. Let her take you to the promised land of a speedy check out.


9. Use self check out only when there are 3 or more people in every other line. 

The employees are generally quicker than the machines (in your face, T-1000!) and usually they will help you bag your stuff. Plus, the machines usually malfunction (haha, T-1000) so you'll just end up requiring an employee's assistance anyway. Of course, you have to wait until the employee assigned to the self check out line finishes helping the customer in the other self check out line and now you are watching the guy who got in a different line 5 minutes after you bagging up his groceries with the help of a lovely special needs worker who knows to put bread on top and always says, "Have a wonderful day!" when you leave. 

That could have been you on the receiving end of that joyful farewell, but you're still waiting for the 20 year old kid who's trying to remember his code to reset the machine. 

Uggghhh.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

On Lizards and Love and Pea Soup

I took my bearded dragon to the vet today.

There she is!

She hadnt been in a while. She also hasn't been eating too much lately and she's got gunk in her eyes and she's 5 and a half years old which is kinda old for bearded dragons, so I figured she could use a check-up.

First off, the vets at Kensington Bird and Animal Hospital are great. Plus, they usually have a duck chilling behind the front desk, recuperating. A duck I tell you!

Anyways, the first thing they did is put her in a bowl and weigh her. She lost half a pound since the last visit, and at 5.4 pounds, that's like a quarter of her total body weight. I think. Not a math guy.

Next they checked the inside of her mouth. Ducey, my lizard, keeps her mouth shut like a female should (kidding!) so they used a rubber spatula to pry it open. She didn't like that too much but I guess they saw something because they wanted to do some blood work, which involved sticking a giant needle in her tail and taking a larger amount of blood than I thought would come out of a lizard tail.

When I woke up and got off the floor, they had the blood work analyzed. Her kidneys were fine! Also, lizards have kidneys!

But she was dehydrated. The indicators were her weight loss, sluggishness, lack of eating, sunken and crusty eyes, and the lack of elasticity in her skin. When you pull her skin, much like with a human, it should snap back to regular shape when you let go. Hers stayed bunched up.

So they got another giant needle filled with H20 and jammed it in her side. As they injected her, a bubble formed on her right side. You can see it in the picture. They said that it should disperse over the next hour.

Lastly, they gave me a powdered formula. I needed to mix it with warm water and use a plastic syringe to feed her. The vet said I should mix the formula until it becomes the consistency of pea soup.

Pea soup? Of all the things in the world, why would she reference pea soup? I don't know the damn consistency of pea soup. All I know about pea soup is that my mom used to cook it for my father when I was young and it stunk up the house for days. It was brutal. I can seriously smell it right now because the smell is so intense it travels through time.

The craziest part is that nobody else in the house ate pea soup. Not even my mom.

My dad loved it though, so she suffered through it. It was quite the sacrifice. Looking back on it, I see that it was the perfect metaphor for love. You have to be able to do things for your partner that you may not want to do and that, in some cases, might even assault your senses in ways you could never imagine and often don't believe as they are happening.

Of course, my brother and I had to suffer through these malodorous expressions of true love as well, so I didn't really see it as a beautiful representation of a lifelong commitment. I saw it as cruel and unusual punishment.

I don't disagree with that assessment today, but I also see it for what it really was. Without even realizing it, I was learning one of the most important lessons about love: real love is cooking your partner's favorite food even though you despise it. I don't know the consistency of pea soup, but I know my mom must really love my dad to cook him something that smelled like a dumpster rat's diarrhea.

I'm grateful to have learned that lesson, and to have two parents who loved each other in a way that taught me that lesson. I don't think it's a coincidence that my girlfriend cooks fish for me despite the fact that it disgusts her. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Anyways, the vet bill was ridiculously high and my lizard is doing fine.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.