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Posted on March 17, 2010
by admin 
2
They said one to another, “Behold, here cometh the dreamer…Let us slay him…and we shall see what will become of his dreams.” –Genesis 37:19-20
Note: There are times when a stranger flashes a familiar smile. Their eyes survey my right forearm moments before pointing and asking “Did that hurt?”
Those are the days when I almost forget it’s there. I almost forget about the raised skin on my right forearm, which is very visible to everyone else-My fraternity brand.
The fact is…I’m branded in four places: The right forearm, the left bicep, on the back over the right shoulder and over the heart. Some see the brands and want to know all about the crazy things they’ve heard one must do to be initiated into a fraternity. Some ask why a man of African American decent would be willing to let others brand him-primarily because our ancestors were branded by Slave masters and similarly marked as property.
Some profess their fascination with Greek life and ask me questions in a state of awe. They hear about this renowned society of collegiate men, who do great things in their respective communities, network and create opportunities for one another. They hear about the massive amounts of fun that we have and the brotherhood that results. They hear of an unbreakable bond that we share- a bond in which one brother would actually be willing to sacrifice his life for another. But no one speaks on the ones who are selfish. What about those who choose to lie and attempt to ruin the name and reputation of another brother? What about those who attempt to hurt their brother or are fueled by jealousy? What about those who witness wrongdoings and instead of speaking out against them, choose instead to go with whatever the majority does, simply because of their insatiable need to fit in at any cost? We as Greeks never talk about them. We just act as though they don’t exist. The fraternity member, much like the used car salesman, sells the public the façade of unconditional love and unbreakable bonds, when the reality is true friends are chosen…frat brothers are forced upon you. In a fraternity, one can be surrounded by just as many parasites as he is great men. I look at it like the biblical verse in St. Matthew 7:18-20 stating: “A Good tree cannot bear worthless fruit, neither can a rotten tree produce fine fruit. Every tree not producing fine fruit gets cut down and thrown down into the fire. Really then, by their fruits you will recognize those men.”
When speaking on the subject of my fraternity, I speak with unbiased honesty and tell all who listen that sometimes I feel like a modern day Joseph The Dreamer (who’s story is my favorite of all documented in the Bible- the book of Genesis).
No one knows more about hardships than the biblical character Joseph, who was one of the twelve sons of Jacob. Joseph was the 11th of the twelve sons, but Joseph was the favored child. He stood out because he obeyed his father. He also had a close walk with God and he was in turn blessed to interpret the dreams of others. One day Joseph was in the fields with his brothers Dan and Naphtali, Gad and Asher, when he sees them doing something they shouldn’t have been and decides to tell his father about it. As a younger brother who’s already viewed as the favorite, this was bound to not go over well with his brothers. Jacob the father, loved Joseph more than the rest of his sons, because he had been born while he was old, and Jacob made a richly ornamented robe of many colors for Joseph. When his brothers saw that the father loved him more…they hated him. Not only did Jacob love him more, but choose to give him a robe-which advertised it. In greekdom, I’ve seen people often endure the same thing, whether in positions earned, line-names individual talents or just overall status or lack of status. Some become envious of others because of their appearance or their perceived disposition. I’ve seen jealousy arise from mutual attraction to a female and the female’s interest in one, leaving the other with the unrequited heart. But anyway…
One day Joseph tells his brothers about a dream he has, where they were all binding sheaves of grain in the field and suddenly Joseph’s sheaf rose and stood upright, while his brother’s sheaf’s bowed to his. His brothers asked, “Do you intend to reign over us? Will you actually rule us?” And now they hated him even more because of a dream that he had. Joseph has another dream and tells his brothers of it. “Listen,” he says, “I had another dream, and this time the sun and moon and eleven starts were bowing down to me.” When he told his father, as well as his brothers, his father rebuked him and said, “What is this dream you had? Will your Mother and I and your brothers actually come and bow down to the ground before you?” He had brothers who hated him and were jealous but his father kept it in mind, though he found it offensive. Joseph was a dreamer. He was simply using the gift that God had given him. He was being blessed with the ability to interpret dreams, but his gift aroused the jealousy of others. Joseph made the mistake of telling his dreams to the only brothers he had-the same brothers who were already jealous of him and the brothers who further hated him because of his favoritism in the family. The brothers had gone to graze near their father’s flocks near Shechem, and Jacob sent Joseph to check on his brothers and bring word back to him. Joseph travels from the Valley of Hebron 30 miles north to find his brothers. The last time Joseph was sent to check on his brothers, he came back with a bad report. The bad report, mixed with two dreams of superiority, didn’t exactly make Joseph a favorite with his brothers.
Joseph went after his brothers and found them near Dothan. Before Joseph reached them, they saw him in the distance and plotted to kill him. Their tones were now mocking and sarcastic: They said one to another, “Behold, here cometh the dreamer…Let us slay him…and we shall see what will become of his dreams.”
One suggested killing him, throwing his body in one of the cisterns and saying that a wild animal devoured him. One brother heard this and tried to show some mercy. He suggested not to take his life, but instead to throw him in the cistern in the desert. When Joseph arrived, they stripped him of his colorful robe and threw him into the cistern. Then they left to eat. Damn. While they’re eating, a huge caravan of Ishmaelites passes by and one brother gets the idea to sell Joseph to them for twenty shekels of silver, which was the price for a handicapped slave in that day.
The brother returns to the cistern and notices that Joseph isn’t there. They needed an explanation for their father, so they tore a piece from Joseph’s robe, killed a goat and dipped the robe in goat’s blood so they could show it to their father. Jacob recognized the robe and cried because he thought his favorite son was dead. Meanwhile, Joseph had been sold by the Midianites-to a government official in Egypt named Potiphar. But God never stopped watching over Joseph. He still prospered as he lived in the house of his Egyptian Master. Joseph found favor in his master and became his attendant. Because God was with Joseph, he blessed that house and in turn the blessing was on everything that the Egyptian Potiphar had. Joseph was abandoned by his family, abused and left for dead by his brothers, sold into slavery and winded up in foreign land and was still prospering.
But the hating didn’t end there. Joseph was also described in the Bible as well built and handsome, and it didn’t take long for the master’s wife to take notice of Joseph. She came to him one day and said, “Come to bed with me” but Joseph refused. Joseph said, “With me in charge, my master does not concern himself with anything in the house; everything he owns he has entrusted to my care. No one is greater in this house than I am. My master has withheld nothing from me except you, because you are his wife. How then could I do such a thing and sin against God?” And even though she approached Joseph day after day, he refused to sleep with her or be with her.
Joseph was a man who prolly had every reason to do it. He was a single man, who was away from his family and away from his friends, nobody would know, nobody would even care, and did I mention…he’s a slave?!? I can’t lie. I likely would have been knocking her off! (laughing) Joseph continued to avoid the whorish wife because of the immerse respect that he had for his master and his fear and belief in God. One day, while Joseph attended to his daily duties, she approached him once more. None of the household servants were inside the home. She grabbed him by the cloak and said, “Come to bed with me!” Joseph left his cloak in her hand and ran off.
I guess she felt pretty stupid after she was refused once again and in typical refuted female fashion, she decided to create a lie to save face. When she saw Joseph had left his cloak behind, she grabbed it and held onto it until the master came back home. She then told her story: She told him that the Hebrew slave that he brought came to make sport of her. She said that she screamed for help and Joseph ran off, leaving his cloak behind. Joseph does everything right and shit still goes wrong for him. Potiphar is angry with Joseph, but is more angered by the fact that his wife tried to seduce him. He has to do something, so he throws his most trusted slave in prison. Even in prison, the Lord was still looking out for him. Joseph received favor in the eyes of the prison warden. Joseph winded up in charge of all that was done there. But Joseph had to face more hardship. The Pharoah had became upset with two of his officers, the chief of the butlers and the chief of the bakers-and those two ended up in the same prison as Joseph. Both were given a spiritual dream they didn’t understand, whereas Joseph had the power to understand their dreams. The interpretations both came true. Soon after, the Pharaoh called for those two men. He gave the chief butler his position back, but executed the chief baker-just as Joseph had predicted accorded to the dream they had.
The Pharaoh had two dreams himself. He called magicians and the wisest men in Egypt, but no one could make sense of the dreams. Pharaoh desperately wanted to know what these dreams meant, and the chief butler (who’s life was spared because of Joseph) told Pharaoh of a Hebrew who was able to interpret dreams. Joseph interpreted the dreams. He predicted 7 years of plenty in Egypt followed by 7 years of great famine. Joseph said that someone should be appointed overseer in Egypt to ensure that all the grain & food would be stored over the next 7 years and managed carefully to prepare for the famine. Pharaoh was pleased and made Joseph the overseer over the land. Somehow this Hebrew came up from the depths of slavery and became second in command over all of Egypt.
When the land of Canaan began to experience the great drought, Jacob, Joseph’s father, sent his sons (Joseph’s brothers) to Egypt to buy grain because they were going to eventually die of starvation. Joseph, being second in command now…eventually came face to face with his brothers, the same ones who plotted his downfall and left him for dead-though he did not reveal who he was to them right away. The brothers had no idea this great ruler of Egypt was the same brother that they sold into slavery years ago.
The brothers returned home eventually with the grain, but after a while, found themselves once again in need of grain. Joseph told them that they must return with their brother, Benjamin, or else he’s be pissed, and would not allow them to get any more food again. Benjamin was Joseph’s full brother (remember…there were 12 brothers) so Benjamin was also very special to Jacob. Joseph also wanted to see his brother again. Jacob eventually allowed Benjamin to go with his brothers to Egypt to buy grain, although he knew in his heart, if anything were to happen to his special son (like he was informed happened to Joseph many years ago) he’s be devastated.
When the brothers returned, Joseph finally told everyone who he really was. Everyone was scared out of their minds because of what they had done to him, and the lie that they had been living for so long. Crazy thing is, Joseph wasn’t angry. He was full of forgiveness in his heart. Joseph embraced his brothers and wept; he sent them to Canaan and they brought back their father, their families and everything they owned back to Egypt in a place that Joseph set up for all of them to live. Pharaoh was happy because Joseph was reunited with his family; Jacob was beside himself that his long lost son was alive! After a while, Jacob eventually died, and Joseph’s brothers were afraid that Joseph would want to do them harm, but Joseph still wasn’t bitter or angry. The children of Israel were preserved as an entire nation in Egypt until much later as they went forth in search of a promised land.
Sometimes in life, we have those who are close to us (some just like brothers) who don’t exhibit the ideals of friendship or brotherhood, but instead do harm. I was someone who grew up with family thousands of miles away in Jamaica. The family that I had in America could give a shit less about bonding and getting to know each other. I had a sister who was eight years older, and growing up it appeared as though we shared very little in common. I created a rock-solid bond with friends from the neighborhood. They were my brothers. Some of them I am still extremely close with to this day. Aaron, whom I’ve been close with since I was 5, and Lee-who’s been one of my closest confidants since I was 7. I had childhood friends-many whom I’ve reconnected with recently via facebook or various journeys in life. I searched for a bond and I sought the family structure that I lacked in things like college friends and fraternity membership. In many cases, I was exposed to brothers that were like Joseph’s. I was blessed to have met some in my fraternity who have altered my life and truly personified friendship. Some…not so much. (laughing)
My father wasn’t a well-educated man by society’s standards, but like many older adults, every now and then…from time to time…my father would say some profound shit. He used to say something about friends since I was a youth that never made any sense to me until now. He used to observe how close I was to my friends, and I think he secretly knew how badly I envied not having a good family structure. He’d say, “Ron…I know you love ya friends…I know you guys have fun, like to hang out and they’re always been around, but you gotta understand…they’re just…friends.”
Even as a teen, when he would say that, I’d stand there with a perplexed look and think, What…the hell…is he talkin’ bout?!?
But at thirty years old, it makes so much sense to me now. Friends come and go. Many friends will continually disappoint you. Many friends will not have the profound appreciation for the bond you share or once shared the same way you do. I remember how dumb I felt reuniting with several child-hood friends recently, even on facebook. In many cases, I was overjoyed to have been reunited with a person who played such an intricate part in shaping who I am today. To some of them, it was like Cool…good to see you’re doing well and you’re alive…on to the next one.
We put our faith in fratbrothers and we put our faith in friends, but no amount of years known can ensure that a person truly gives a shit. Some people are parasites. They feed off of you, until they’ve used their resources or find another host who they can feed off of. Many people go about their relationships the same way. No fraternity of sorority process guarantees a genuine bond between strangers. Anyone who dares to argue that point is brainwashed. Period. I don’t care if you were on line for 1,911 weeks and you share every detail of your life. I was told as a youth In order to make friends, one must first himself be friendly. I’ve had friends and fratbrothers accuse me unjustly of things-like Joseph. I myself am a dreamer who interprets life’s situations and dares to dream. I’ve never been a slave, but I know what’s it’s like to attract the jealousy of others around me. I know how it feels to be spoken bad about and to endure hardship. I know how it feels to be forsaken by family. I’ve refused the advances of women who belonged to another and had false things said about me. Shit, I’ve even had females who felt as though they were rejected, and afterwards question my sexual orientation! (laughing)
But there has always been one consistent. God has always been blessing me. He’s blessed me with intelligence, strength, health and undeniable talents. Life’s hardships don’t last forever and God has a funny way of raising us from prisons in foreign lands to a place of prominence and blessings. I’ve been motivated to chase Dreams and chase history…not to chase the concept of making friends. The people who you are intended to know and interact with will be placed in your life. There is no about of pledging that can bond you with someone who naturally doesn’t give a fuck. Some will read this and wear that blank expression of a dullard because they don’t get it. Some will become enraged that the words of a dreamer strike deep in their hearts, but who cares? I walk with God…and he keeps blessing me…despite what happens. And I’ll continue to dream…until I receive my kingdom. Keep Dreaming, y’all.
“Behold, I sent you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, be ye therefore wise as serpents and harmless as doves.” –Matthew 10:16
…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…(for all those that get it)
http://www.thegrayareas.com/
“Men fight for liberty and win it with hard knocks. Their children, brought up easy, let it slip away again, poor fools. And their grandchildren are once more slaves.”
– D.H. Lawrence, Classical American Literature, 1922
Note: Generation X is a term used to describe people born from 1964 to the mid or late 1970’s. This generation follows the Baby Boomer Generation-our parents, which came to be after World War II. Though Generation X was the term used to describe the people of this particular time period, it has been used to describe anyone who is about my age at this time. Our biggest impact on popular culture started in the 80’s and peaked in the 90’s. The “X” in generation X represented the lack of identity-we were unsure of where our knack for trailblazing belonged, but we knew that we shared very little and were different from our Baby Boomer predecessors. Ahhh…and today, we now have Generation Y-typically the children of Generation X, and children of some of the younger members of The Baby Boomers. This generation-who’s members have not yet reached 30-are much different. This generation is marked by their familiarity with communications. They use technology at a higher rate than people from other generations. They are a generation of multi-tasking. 94% own a cell phone, 60% own an MP3 player. 76% use instant messaging. It is also a generation that spends at
least 3.5 hours online. The 20th century produced an enormous increase in birthrates, however families were smaller (due to lack of father presence) and many single parents were left to do it all alone, or with little help. Raising Generation Y without complete homes was bound to have aftereffects. In my previous random thought, I touched on Bad-ass Kids and Nature v.s Nurture. The random thoughts continue on Generation Y.
In a state of boredom while at work, I browsed countless videos on youtube.com in search of a scene from a movie that seemed to endlessly replay in my mind today. It was from “First Time Felon”, which starred Omar Epps and was directed by Charles S. Dutton in 1997. First Time Felon was inspired by the true story of Greg Yance. In the movie, Yance (Omar Epps) is a member of the Vice Lords Gang who goes to jail for what else but…selling drugs! He’s given a choice; 5 years in prison, or go to a boot camp program for a few months. He obviously chooses the boot camp-which winds up being much more than he bargained for-because of a Drill Sergeant named “Calhoun” who has a serious detest for Yance’s generation. The best part of that movie, which leads me to today’s random thought, is a scene where Calhoun confronts Yance in a storage room. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hB8CQhCv0DY He lectures him on the war between Black People and Niggas. Calhoun confessed that he hates that white people look at him and still see Yance because they share the same race-though they have contrasting lifestyles. He calls Yance “the real Uncle Tom” because he’s the one doing white people’s work for them-He’s the one destroying the black race. And he ends it with the best line ever: “You just happy bein’ a muthafuckin’ Nigga!”
At times, I look at the members of Generation Y in my hometown and I feel like Sergeant Calhoun. I don’t wish to come off as “uppity” or someone who is out of touch because of my education and pension for making better choices. I’m from Philly…born and raised, where bad choices and danger lurk on virtually every corner. But Generation Y poses a different level of danger; A class that displays little remorse, and even less restraint for their actions.
IS IT WRONG THAT I CAN’T STAND YOUNGBUCKS?!? By a youngbuck or “youngbull” as we call them in Philly, I mean those who’s ages range from fifteen to their late twenties. Is it wrong that I feel like the mere presence of them ruins everything?!? Ever been in a crowded movie theatre with a bunch of them? Ever been in a club or even college party and see fights break out? Ever see your favorite nightlife location become ghetto once they discover it? Of course, there are exceptions to the rule, but the vast majority of homicide victims are their age, the vast majority of people pulling the trigger are their ages. Although technologically savvy, they’re responsible for most of the random violence, masochism, property destruction and the death of good fashion and Hip Hop music. Like Sergeant Calhoun, I too hate the fact that other races see their faces on television, overhear their vulgar conversations on the buses and trains and hear their tales of niggatry permeate the music airwaves-and put me in the same box as them.
This past January, the story of Ellen Walton personified my worst fears for my parents, the Baby Boomers and those who are part of Generation X. Ellen Walton was just entering the back door of her Philadelphia home on Magnolia Street when she was attacked from behind. She was a 68-year-old grandmother and retired social worker, who lived in my old Germantown neighborhood. She was savagely beaten over the head and was found dead at the foot of her basement steps-next to her was a metal flying pan that was found nearly broken in half. Her house was ransacked and robbed and the murderer left the scene in her Toyota Rav-4 Jeep. The police found her car abandoned a few blacks away with the tires blown out. I looked at a photo that the media released of the victim, and something seemed eerily familiar. Her smile and some of her features reminded me of my own 60-year-old Mother. I called my sister and showed her a photo of the woman, who resembled our Mother. Suddenly, a crime that happens far too often here in Philadelphia felt personal. I wanted justice for her and closure for the family.
Days later, police made an arrest. Corey Conaway, her 18-year-old neighbor was arrested and confessed to the crime. Conaway was burglarizing the house when Ellen Walton came home from shopping. She has known Corey ever since her was a baby. Corey was already caught-he didn’t want her to tell anyone. He then beat her with a frying pan, stole her car and went “joyriding.”
Surveillance video from a local store caught him in her car, and subsequently he crashed it a few blocks away, likely doin’ something stupid. In true Generation Y fashion, Corey attacked her on January 8th and returned back to the same home on January 10th to find her still alive. He once again left the house without summoning help. Police had gone to her house after finding the abandoned car and discovered her body…beaten to death. In a bitter twist of irony of Generation Y’s penchant for technology, Police released a photo taken from Corey’s myspace page, with him flashing a wad of money.
“When a man wants to murder a tiger, he calls it sport; when the tiger wants to murder him, he calls it ferocity. The distinction between crime and justice is no greater.” -George Bernard Shaw
Speaking of Generation Y and their antics, I’M STRANGELY ADDICTED TO “THE FIRST 48”: In my opinion, The First 48 is one of the best shows on television right now. The show deals with real life homicide investigations by real life homicide detectives in various cities around the country. The show’s name comes from the theory that when a homicide occurs, detectives often are often unable to solve those crimes, unless they get a lead within the first 48 hours of being called to the scene. In an hour of unscripted material, you follow detectives and a camera crew through several facets of the investigation: Observing the crime scene, interviewing suspects, interviewing witnesses, the interrogation, and ultimately the confession and the suspect being charged. Some of the crimes are never solved, leaving the viewer in a state of What if? Virtually everyone will tell you that the best part of the show is the interrogation of suspects. I find that no matter how brutal the murder, or how tough the suspect appears, things often play out in very similar fashion when facing a first-degree murder charge.
First you have the suspect who’s brought into the police headquarters via anonymous tip or evidence. It’s unbelievable how much people lie. They do and say anything to maintain their innocence. People will act as if they have no idea why they’ve been summoned into a homicide office. The suspect says, “Yo…I didn’t do it! I swear to God! I swear on my child!” They put on an Oscar Award-winning performance, as they give false alibis, request lie detector tests, and swear of the souls of dead relatives. It really shows you just how much people lie when shit hits the fan.
The best element of the show is when police play good cop/bad cop to trick them into a confession or better yet-when a surveillance tape emerges capturing the crime. Then they show it to the suspect, and he’s wearing the same damn outfit he wore when he committed the videotaped crime. Now, this self-proclaimed thug is sitting there, crying and exclaiming how sorry his is and how he didn’t mean to do it. Priceless.
The one and only flaw of the show is that they only show homicides committed by minorities. Every homicide suspect is Black or Latino. I watch every episode of the First 48 and I’ve only seen two men charged that weren’t Black or Latino. The cities that are most commonly profiled are Birmingham Alabama, Memphis Tennessee, Dallas Texas, Miami Florida, Tucson Arizona, and Louisville Kentucky. Perhaps those areas have much to do with it, but I’ve seen Episodes in Minneapolis Minnesota, and the suspects are still always country-ass black people with stupid street nicknames like “Murder” or “Black” or “G-Rock.”
Being one of only three minorities at my job, I am extremely ashamed at how we’re portrayed on television-as a bunch of gun-toting, thieving, baby-making and ass-shaking miscreants, who would kill for a few dollars and end the life of another human being just because they stepped on our new sneakers or were lookin’ at us. The show, although extremely biased, is my addiction. It’s much like that bad automobile accident; it hurts to watch it, yet you can’t help but look. For some, their addiction is For The Love of Ray-J, but every Tuesday and Thursday, my eyes are glued to the A&E Channel for The First 48. I have a problem.
“Parents often talk about the younger generation as if they didn’t have anything to do with it.” –Maim Ginott
WHERE DOES GENERATION Y’s BULLSHIT COME FROM? A TRUE TALE OF STUPIDITY-Josh Billings once said, “Take all the fools out of this world and there wouldn’t be any fun living in it, or profit.”
I say put all the world’s fool in one large metropolis, and you’ve got Philadelphia. I thoroughly enjoy two things in my morning routine. The first is my daily medium-sized French Vanilla coffee from Dunkin’ Doughnuts…lots of cream…lots of sugar. The second part of my routine that I enjoy is The Philadelphia Daily News. They say that you can feed a starving child in Africa for 75 cents a day. That same denomination can purchase the most popular newspaper in the city, which keeps me in-tuned to the stories, events and people that make up Philadelphia life.
I was thoroughly disappointed-yet not surprised-at today’s lead story. Saturday afternoon, a couple walked into Platinum Ice & Jewelry, located at 6th and South Street with their 4-year-old son. The couple, Sheakia Stubbs and John Benson were buzzed into the store and asked to look at some engagement rings. One of the two created a diversion, and John Benson reached behind the counter and grabbed 15 rings, worth about $50,000. The couple then hauled ass out of the store with the Store Owner and his employee chasing them. Sheakia Stubbs, who was holding the jewelry, split from the man and the boy and ran into a City Blue clothing store to switch bags. The owner eventually caught up with Benson, but Benson pulled out a knife and slashed his throat. Despite being slashed by the thief, the owner continued to give chase for a block and a half. It was then that Benson decided that he needed to get rid of the dead weight. He let go of the 4-year-old’s hand and ran off-leaving the boy behind. Even though he was bleeding badly, the Store Owner stayed with the little boy until police arrived while John Benson ran off.
The son that the dead-beat parents left behind, ended up helping identify them to police, and they were swiftly arrested shortly after midnight yesterday. So now the child remains in the care of the Department of Human Services and Philadelphia has two parents-a Mom that had three prior arrests, with a Father that had 24 previous arrests-charged with attempted murder, robbery and endangering the welfare of a child. Why am I still living in this town?!?
There are two fools in this world. One is the millionaire who thinks that by hoarding money he can somehow accumulate real power, and the other is the penniless reformer who thinks that if only he can take the money from one class and give it to another, all the world’s ills will be cured. –Henry Ford…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…
http://www.thegrayareas.com
“We’re going to raise a lost generation of children unless they are properly disciplined and properly spanked.” -Charles Eddie Wiseman
For those that may not know, in addition to my occupation as a professional photographer, I also make a living working with children in various schools (Hey…a Brotha’s gotta pay the bills). My specialty? Counseling for children who have psychological, emotional and neurological disorders. In most cases, within hours of meeting with my clients, I come to the conclusion that the various diagnosis that the respective psychologists and psychiatrists find are mostly embellished-and we’re dealing not with a mentally unstable patient…but simply just another bad ass kid. Attention Deficit Disorder or ADD, Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder or ADHD, and Oppositional Defiant Disorder are some of the more common things that doctors will tell you your kids have as an excuse for their costly services and various medications. Once you meet the family, it’s clear where it comes from. It’s almost always the same story. A child, or one of many children, groomed in a single-parent home with very little or no discipline at all. It’s a recipe for disaster and sometimes I look into the eyes of today’s youth and in many of them…I see the felons of tomorrow.
I was born in 1979. That would make me a part of the last generation of kids who truly knew what discipline was. Trained in the deadly ancient art known as the ass whoopin’, and a firm believer in the benefits of its use. Now don’t get me wrong- there’s a huge difference between disciplining a child and whooping a child’s ass. The key in my opinion is combining Nature & Nurture. Constantly dishing out a well-deserved ass-whoopin’ to a child without any form of nurturing or explanation is sure to have bad aftereffects. Too much nurturing to a bad-ass kid with the absence of discipline will surely come back to bite you in the ass sooner or later. In my opinion, if one wants to raise a well-mannered child, there must be a good distribution of both. I say “in my opinion” because many professionals and non-professionals believe the stigma that different races raise their children differently. The stereotype is that African American families will physically beat their children as a means of discipline, while White families refuse to beat or spank their children; they say the form of discipline that we’ve been using for generations is really abuse. So which philosophy is right and which philosophy is wrong? 
“Spanking is simply another form of terrorism. It teaches the victims that might makes right, and that problems can be solved through the use of violence by the strong against the weak.” -Dr. Anon
Growing up, I was on the receiving end on what must have been a thousand ass-whoopings…courtesy of my insane father. I say insane because I’d get beatings for trivial things-which ranged from getting C’s in school to Sports. Ronald Gray Sr. always wanted to play Professional Basketball, but his height and weight kept him from fulfilling that dream; and so he decided that he’d try and live his dreams through his only son. I recall our home being adorned with innumerable trophies of his accomplishments-some as tall as me. He pushed me towards sports the way that many fathers do with their sons- however as a youth, I wasn’t interested in dribbling a basketball, but rather expressing myself through art. I had a gift that needed to be cultivated. My drawings were referred to as “monkey men” and destroyed. My vast collection of toys got thrown away and he gave me a basketball when I was six years old. The only fatherly advice that followed was to “go down the street and play ball.”
At that age, I wasn’t interested in basketball. Going down the street to the John F. McCloskey playground in Philadelphia and playing Basketball with kids-some twice my size-I’d sooner venture down into the basement to play freeze tag with Freddy Kruger. Eventually, I was forced to go and practice on my game. After all…every male in the Gray family played basketball, and my insane father would not let his son be the exception. So there I was; an awkward, skinny kid… struggling against older, taller kids on the basketball courts, with the embarrassment of my father on the sidelines screaming instructions with promises of what would happen when we got back home if I didn’t play better defense.
The licentious beatings that I sustained at the hands on my father were nothing short of abuse-and I understand the need for children today to receive the nurture that I never did. I grew up an emotional wreck and someone who missed out on many things from his youth- a socially awkward kid that continued on that path until college. Was I a bad child? No. But I remember talking to my Mother teary-eyed and wondering why after beatings, which left marks and bruises all along my back, Chest, arms and legs. Can’t forget my father’s heavy hands or the way I would be kicked if I fell to the ground. The phrase “spare the rod and spoil the child” is often incorrectly attributed to the Bible, however I read that it first appeared in a poem by Samuel Butler in 1664. Hebrew Scriptures of the Bible (The Old Testament) speak on corporal punishment for a child and Christians often quote those scriptures to this day:
Prov 13:24: “He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes (diligently).” 
Prov 19:18: “Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying.” 
Prov 22:15: “Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him.” 
Prov 23:13: “Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die.“ 
Prov 23:14: “Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell (Shoel).”
Prov 19:18: “Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying.” Prov 22:15: “Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him.” Prov 23:13: “Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die.“ Prov 23:14: “Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell (Shoel).”
Prov 29:15: “The rod and reproof give wisdom: but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame.“
We’ve all seen those TV shows and episodes of Maury with out of control kids who are disrespectful to their parents, essentially stressing them into early graves. So why is it that some parents absolutely refuse to whoop a bad kid’s ass? Are they afraid of being investigated for abuse? Are they afraid of their children? Or do they think that behaviors of non-compliance from small children are in fact normal behaviors? I read an interview on the web from Dr. Ralph Welsh, who has given psychological exams to over 2,000 delinquents. He says, “Spanking does for a child’s development what wife-beating does for a relationship.” Dr. Welsh also goes on to explain that as the severity of corporal punishment in the delinquent’s developmental history increases, so does the probability that he will engage in a violent act.
Alvin Poussaint, M.D, who is a Professor of Psychiatry and Harvard Medical School said, “Researchers have also found that children who are spanked show higher rates of aggression and delinquency in childhood than those who were not spanked. As adults, they are more prone to depression, feelings of alienation, use of violence towards a spouse, and lower economic and professional achievement. None of this is what we want for our children.”
But I wonder how many of these professionals have children? And even more importantly, how many of these professionals have bad children? And I know some of you guys out there are thinking, Ron…there’s no such thing as a bad child. Fuck that. I’ve worked at schools in North Philadelphia, Southwest Philadelphia and now suburban Pennsylvania at predominantly white Schools. There is such a thing as a bad-ass kid and these parents are acting as though they’re children are allergic to leather the way they refuse to beat these damn kids. I’m actually beginning to see more and more black families that refuse to beat their kids. Sheeee-it…when I was growing up, if you were disrespectful to a stranger who was an adult, they were likely to give you some belt action-then you’d go home and get beat again by your parents for disrespecting adults. Today, when teachers call parents with reports of their children misbehaving, you have parents who come up to the school irate, ready to confront a teacher for calling their cell…totally negating the fact that their out of control kid was running amok at school like the antichrist.
Today we’re witnessing a generation of children who are on various medications to control aggression, when all they need is disciplinary action. Children take drugs like Ritalin, which may decrease impulsive behavior, but in turn makes them so lethargic in classes that they often struggle to stay focused and awake-the very same things they are in school to do. It’s like the man who takes Viagra for erectile dysfunction, but the side effect is loss of hearing and sometimes problems with sight and a racing heart. So now you hafta decide if you wanna be able to get some ass…or be able to see properly and hear. (shaking my head)
Merely days ago, while conducting a home observation, I witnessed a small child displaying a tantrum when told to complete a homework assignment. The Mother (who has no control of the situation) began to count backwards from five. I shook my head and thought about my childhood for a moment. The only counting my Jamaican-American parents would have been doing for me would have been a Boxing Referee’s ten count because I was on the floor knocked unconscious for acting up. I focused in on the situation at hand-a Mother was preparing dinner for her three bad-ass kids while one was giving her hell and refusing to do homework. I watched intently and recorded how she would choose to deal with the situation. One of them walked over to her, voicing his displeasure and telling her that he “wasn’t gonna do it.” He instead he wanted to go into his room and play with his PlayStation 3. She informed him that she was cooking their favorite meal and attempted to be stern (probably because I was there), telling him that he had until the count of five to do the homework. With a devilish smirk on his face, he turned to the stainless steel pot of simmering dinner…and spat in it! Time itself stood still, as I wondered to myself if I was dreaming or did this little bastard just do the unthinkable! His actions shocked me, but what was more shocking was the Mother’s reaction. Nothing. All I could think of was a kid who received ass-whoopings would have never have done that.
I was once told “A real leader faces the music, even when he doesn’t like the tune.” If I were against beatings for children, the sight of that would have make me the enforcer that Joe Jackson was to the late Michael Jackson. There are idiots out there that feel as though taking a kid’s pants down and beating them across the butt is degrading. There are those who believe that it’s abusive. Some say that spankings on the butt cause psychological problems, and it doesn’t work-it just scares them into listening. But what about a parent that refuses to do it and becomes fearful of what their child may one day do to them? What about the Psychological aftereffects that Mother will probably have now? The issue isn’t a father who is spanking a 16-year-old female on the buttocks (which would be really weird) but rather spoiled brats who do not understand the concept of authority. In life, we must assume responsibility for our actions.
I always read about young killers who evade police for weeks and sometimes even months and are found at their parent’s home. There will be rewards offered and notices in newspapers and various forms of media seeking their capture, and somehow their parents allow them to stay in the home, eating a bowl of CAP’N Crunch, and playing videogames. These were once children who never had to accept responsibility for their actions. In the parent’s eyes, it was always someone else’s fault. It was the white man, it was the school system, it was racism, the teacher, the other students. It was always anyone but them. Their child never had to face the music and accept responsibility for anything. They refused to administer the proper discipline, so the Police Department will. They refused to make them responsible, so now a Judge will. They refused to oversee their growth, so now the Warden will. If you’re never forced to accept responsibility as a child, it becomes easy to one day take a life as an adult and blame someone else. Someone once said, “The trouble with children is that they’re not returnable.”
We can’t return them or exchange them, but we can damn sure instill the proper morals in them, and if they get outta line…we can whoop that ass before it’s too late. Start beating these bad-ass kids.
“At this time in the United States, the only people who can smack someone on the buttocks as part of their paid professional duties are schoolteachers, prostitutes and performers in the pornography filming industry.” –Unknown
…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…
The Random Thought Blog archive can be previewed at http://www.thegrayareas.com
Note: On yet another uneventful Saturday night, I found myself growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of social events that Philadelphia offered for the young professional crowd. The words “grown & sexy” are often used to describe the ambiance of Philadelphia nightlife locations, though most cater to the futile, culturally challenged and superficial. There are organizations that throw events with the young professional in mind, but those parties, networking functions, and spoken word events are held at best once a month-unlike the frequent access of the club scene- and are still inhabited with individuals who personify everything but the young professional crowd. Imagine being at a social networking event, exchanging business cards with a sista pursuing her Master’s in Chemistry while teaching 9th grade Science, only to have the conversation interrupted by someone who sells ecstasy pills out of the trunk of a 1992 Ford Crown Victoria and dropped out of the 9th grade. Today it seems as though any and everyone with some form of employment considers themselves a young professional. Women often think of themselves as “Divas” because they have their own worldly possessions, while men often feel as though they are the cream of the crop- simply because they’re employed, with a roof over their heads and a working automobile. A friend and fellow Cheyney alum, John Lott (who really should consider starting a blog or book of his own) had a facebook status that questioned women with a “Delusional Diva Syndrome” or D.D.S. It really made me think about those who perpetrate the identity of the young professional male and the modern day Diva. Have our standards dropped for what is considered professional? Or is our society doomed to be overpopulated with a legion of arrogant bastards who are delusional about their worth?
“When they discover the center of the universe, a lot of people will be disappointed they are not in it.” -Bernard Bailey
William Shakespeare once said, “Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, brags of his substance; they are but beggars who can count their worth.”
No one in modern day society imposes their self-conceit more than the self proclaimed Young Professional Male-who believes he is God’s gift to women-and the sista who suffers from Delusional Diva Syndrome. Diva is the Italian word originally used to describe the woman of rare, outstanding talent. The word was used to describe the celebrated female singers in opera theatre and popular music. Today, it is one of the most overused words permeating the mainstream media since the emergence of “hater.”
What does it mean to be delusional? In psychology, a delusion is an erroneous belief that is held in the face of evidence to the contrary; it’s a false belief or opinion. In psychiatry, it is often a symptom of mental illness. Delusions of grandeur-which is common in paranoia-is the delusion that you are much greater and more powerful and influential than you really are. Sound like anyone you may know?
The Delusional Diva often has a physical appearance that is mediocre at best, yet she finds flaws in everyone else. Oftentimes the delusional diva is a woman of average looks, who may have a physical asset that warrants the attention of men-usually a rotund ass-and gives her the delusion that the attention that she receives has anything to do with how she looks. The woman who suffers from D.S.S may also hide behind designer fashions, advanced degrees, or even membership into a sorority or social club. Some external signs are resume dropping-the act of continually talking about themselves, their accolades and accomplishments. Resume dropping-although impressive to the mediocre mind, merely shows the Educated Negro that many delusional divas seek approval and are so vain that they care about the opinions of the same individuals that they may not even care about. The delusional diva can also be a religious nut…a type of Holy Roller. She takes the I Am Holier Than Thou approach to many things and tries to recite biblical scripture to negate her own inconsistencies. At the end of the day, she’s an idiot too.
The world tolerates conceit from those who are successful, but not from anybody else.
–John Blake
It’s not just the females who fall into the delusion of believing that they’re greater and more influential than they are. There are plenty of men who believe that they represent the cream of the crop, simply because of their perceived status, however live a life merely dollars away from total bankruptcy. A young professional by definition is a young city or suburban resident with a well-paid professional job and an affluent lifestyle-also known as a yuppie. The young professional is cultured and well spoken. The true young professional also knows that self-conceit ultimately may lead to self- destruction. Because of that, the young professional may also have an equal level of humility to match. He doesn’t look at others with contempt, but rather attempts to motivate.
Seems like any idiot with a job today vainly considers himself a young professional, but what is a young professional without a professional job? Can a Dominoes Pizza Delivery boy be considered a young professional? I’m sure that somewhere out there, someone will plead their case, but upon asking a variety of my female friends…the answer was a resounding “No.”
“Conceit is God’s gift to little men.” –Bruce Barton
What is it that makes a man perpetrate professionalism? In a word: Women. Women are attracted to status and men seek status to impress the woman. When a man doesn’t have status, cannot gain it, or is unwilling to seek it, he’ll do what comes naturally…he’ll FRONT.
We’ve all seen it. We all know the man that dons the latest fashions from Nordstrom and Saks Fifth Avenue, but makes $10 an hour. Ladies who frequent the club are more than familiar with the guy who purchases drinks and makes it rain, while the bill collectors make it thunderstorm at his residence with invoices. Every year I see more people with $50,000 cars, but can barely afford to fill them up once a week with the premium gas they require. What’s
it worth to take on a $700 car note and have to live at home in order to do so?
To me, the title of young professional is not just in the current status that one has acquired or how much the current job pays-but it’s also about the ambition that they display. A college student that may not be employed is still taking steps in the right direction by attending school and can be considered by many a young professional. A blue-collared worker can be considered a young professional by many for making the right moves, working diligently towards his goals, and seeking to constantly evolve. It shouldn’t be something that is reserved for those who’ve attended college…trust me…I know many educated idiots who have not maximized their bachelor’s or master’s degrees. To be honest, I’m not someone who can pass judgment on others; I’m a photographer…not a brain surgeon. I’m not saving lives ever day or curing any terminal diseases. I’m just a man with a laptop and an opinion. (smiles) Throw in a bunch of people who enjoy reading what goes through my mind and agree with most of it, and you have The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray. In a perfect world, we’d all be young professionals; responsible, culturally aware people who work for what we have and seek greatness in our respective fields. But that’s just wishful thinking. In reality, we are a flawed but interesting society. A society where many of us notice the inconsistencies, but few are willing to address how it makes them feel. So allow me to address what gets on my nerves:
Delusional People want credit for things that the true independent, ambitious people simply do…and they do it without expecting praise or contempt. A Delusional Diva meets a man and says, “I don’t need no man. I got my own house, my own car, and pay my own bills.” Ladies…we don’t care…trust me…
(By the way) Why do women with no substance-however with fat asses-believe that they are so great?!? Don’t you know that the attention you receive is 100% carnal? Men stare at ass all day and that’s why they like you. You keep staring at asses all day…even a baboon’s ass…some perverted thoughts are bound to creep in! (laughing) but getting back to my point….
Fellas…
A Man who handles his business waits to be asked about his personal achievements and possessions. There’s an aura about him that tells you he has his shit together-there’s no need to brag or boast. It’s always strange how men who flaunt their money despise women who like them only for their money.
What some don’t realize is it’s expected of American citizens to have their own property, transportation and job. It’s nice to know that people are doing well for themselves, however it’s not necessary to boast of personal possessions. Instead, be proud of how many lives you’ve touched and people you’ve inspired to do the same.
The Delusional Man says, “I take care of all of my kids”, however that is expected of all fathers. The Delusional Man believes that he is special because he’s never been arrested and hasn’t been to jail. The delusional man brags of never having to sell drugs; as if having avoided the preferred method of employment of the low-class citizen is an insurmountable task. Ugghhh…
Ok…time to go back to work…stay tuned, guys…
“There are some people who live in a dream world, and there are some who face reality: and then there are some who turn one into the other.” -Douglas H. Everett
Was there anyone that I forgot?
…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…
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Food for Thought: In Pennsylvania, Gun violence is responsible for the deaths of about 1,200 people each year. 80% of homicides in the southwest section of Philadelphia are unsolved. 75% of individuals shot are black. 72% of the individuals are black men. 40% of those individuals are under the age of 25. The rate of murder here is 3½ times per capita the rate of New York City-whose population is about 8 times larger. Over $125 million dollars are spent each year on the immediate healthcare needs of shooting victims. Of this amount, taxpayers pay $90 million for medical care for uninsured victims. Philadelphia has the highest murder rate of any big city in America. Pennsylvania has the highest rate in the nation of black homicide victims, (29.52 murders per 100,000 population) which equates to more than six times the overall rate for victims of all races. 81% of those homicides were committed with handguns. The most commonly cited reasons for homicide are arguments …leading to fighting…and ending in murder.
“Mankind must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.” –Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
On the eve of the 23rd anniversary of celebrating the Birthday of the great Martin Luther King Jr., I found myself deviating from the usual day of service with my frat brothers, instead reflecting on the matter of nonviolence. Nicknamed The City Of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia is arguably the most historic city in the country. It is also a place plagued by violence and now has the monikers of The Murder Capital and KILLAdelphia, PISTOLvania. When speaking of gun violence, one statistic really jumps out at me: The most commonly cited reasons for homicides are arguments…leading to fighting… ending in murder. Although it can be quite the spectacle to see an obnoxious person get what they deserve, and receive a one-sided ass whoopin’, the Educated Negro wonders if people realize that there’s a point when you’re just TOO DAMN OLD TO GET INTO FIGHTS WITH PEOPLE.
I’ve actually evolved to the point where I no longer find humor in a good catfight. By catfight, I mean an altercation between two women, typically involving scratching, hair pulling, and shirt shredding, as opposed to punching. However, that term isn’t just gender specific, but rather describing any vociferous fight, with the end result being the participants missing articles of clothing at the end. One of the biggest turnoffs is seeing two beautiful women scratching each other’s faces and ripping out hair. In the end…for what? Ever notice that women never fight over the men worth a damn? When was the last time you saw two women fight it out in the hair salon over a man with a Master’s Degree and Thriving Business? When was the last time two women fought in the club over a pediatric surgeon with good credit? Nope…who do they fight over? Treyshawn, the KFC fry cook-currently six months behind on child support payments for all five of his misguided children. If you can get into a club, you’re too damn old to be fighting someone.
Random fights between two or more Neanderthals in this city are common during a weekend night out. A seasoned 30-year-old male in Philly realizes at the first signs of an altercation that it’s time to go. Long gone are the days of standing around, watching two morons fight for primitive superiority. Why? Because moments later, one or more of their goons will begin shooting, or the loser of the altercation will utter those four infamous words: “I’ll be right back.” Much of the frenzied crowd-too dumb to leave and too cool to care-will hang around for Round 2 and eventually become witnesses to a shooting or shooting victims themselves. It’s the norm here. Because 40% of Philadelphia’s homicide victims are under the age of 25, you’ve got to wonder if people realize that by their mid-twenties…YOU’RE TOO OLD TO GET INTO FIGHTS!!!
The popular cartoon series The Boondocks, coined the term “A Nigga Moment,” where ignorance overwhelms the mind of an otherwise logical Negro male, causing him to act in an illogical, self-destructive manner i.e. like a nigga. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0B9QGrpdu5Y
There are some logical males who get baited into Nigga Moments, and there are also some who just lead Nigga Lives-their sole purpose to cause as much carnage as they can, until someone puts them out of their misery. Money, Women, Drugs or Personal Boundaries/Lack of Proper Etiquette are the leading causes of fights between the Negro males.
Money is a common thing to see people fight over-especially poor people. My Dad told me that his father was killed when he was a few years old, over $10. He told me that he owed someone down the street $10 and recently had won some money playing cards. The guy asked for his $10 and I’m guessing my grandfather simply said, “I’ll give it to you later.” But the neighbor wanted it then. At this point, the neighbor uttered those four words: “I’ll be right back.” He came back alright-and took a life over $10. You’d think it doesn’t get any more stupid than that, but it does.
Men have been fighting and killing over women since biblical times. The Story of John The Baptist personifies the power of the pussy. According to the Synoptic Gospels, King Herod had imprisoned John because he disproved of Herod for divorcing his wife (Phasaelis), and unlawfully taking his brother Philip’s wife, Herodias. On Herod’s birthday, Herodias’ daughter (Salome) danced before the king and his guests. The Bible said her dancing pleased Herod so much that in his drunkenness he promised to give her anything she desired, up to half his kingdom (I’m assuming her dance was similar to a modern day lap-dance). When the daughter asked her mother what she should request, the Mother-still bitter because John said that Herod shouldn’t be married to his brother’s wife-told her daughter to request the head of John The Baptist on a platter. Although Herod was appalled by the request, he reluctantly agreed and had John beheaded in the prison; John the Baptist-the close friend of Jesus. Ahhhh…The Power of Women. It just goes to show that people have fought over women and died for the affection…or perceived affection of women since the beginning of time.
Ever have someone brush or bump right into you and not have the decency to apologize? Ever have someone step right on your foot and act as if they don’t even notice? My personal pet peeve is when someone says, “watch out” instead of “excuse me.” This is a major trigger for physical encounters among adults. Although someone’s lack of etiquette does not justify a verbal or physical thrashing, it can set off a domino effect that has ultimately led many to pain, embarrassment or an untimely demise. Me personally…I consider myself far too refined to be seen rolling around on the ground with an imbecile, or being physically thrown out of an overpriced club by it’s security. Instead I recall a phrase from Mark Twain stating, “I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig, you get dirty; and besides, the pig likes it.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJHrxD4fW9U
I left the fighting behind in high school. I just don’t see anything worth fighting over at this age. I remember seeing a pregnant female getting pummeled on the ground by a group of females in my senior year of high school. She subsequently lost her child shortly after, due to the altercation. The motive? She was pregnant by the boyfriend of one of her assailants. Most people would say that somewhere during your high school years, one outgrows the need to handle affairs with the fists. I hope that many more can realize that they’re too old to be getting into fights and ultimately learn to appreciate the well being of the next man. Dr. King’s stance on nonviolence has truly been an inspiration to me, and if he has offer peaceful solutions in perilous times when it would have been ideal to fight…what’s your excuse? Let’s learn to love each other, guys.
“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”
-Napoleon Hill
…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…
http://www.thegrayareas.com/
I’m sitting here in this suburban Starbucks Coffee shop-conveniently located in a Barnes & Noble Bookstore right outside of Philadelphia. Although extremely overpriced, it’s quickly becoming one of my favorites places to get some quality writing done in peace. I look over my receipt and shake my head in disgust. My purchase? An overrated Chicken Mediterranean flatbread and a concoction called a Caramel Macchiato Venti-a modest meal that barely satisfies the hunger of a child-at a whopping $12. After the traditional wallet raping by Starbucks, I enjoy a seat at a table and work on my book I’ve been attempting to write-the one I vow to have complete by year’s end. Minutes later, I find myself becoming distracted and working on my latest random thought blog. Let the games begin…
“One who asks a question is a fool for five minutes; one who does not ask a question remains a fool forever.” -Chinese Proverb
I was once told you can tell whether a man is clever by his answers, and you can tell whether a man is wise by his questions. I believe the point was that sometimes questions are more important than answers. They say there’s no such thing as a stupid question. I strongly disagree. But…here we are in the year 2010 and I reflect back on many of the unanswered questions that I had for the world in 2009. Questions that have gone unanswered…until now. An avid reader of my blog said that I’m always giving advice in my random thoughts, and wanted to know if there are times where I have questions and turn to others for the answers. I told her that 2009 left me with many unanswered questions and that I would dedicate my next post to my reading public to see if they could indeed answer the various inquiries that befuddled my brain last year.
Question 1: Why is The Maury Show and The Jerry Springer Show still on the air?!? I’m sure many of you have wondered the same thing. I had a few weeks off from work for the Christmas Holiday and almost ran insane through the streets in a fit of rage because of these mind-numbing shows. They both literally come on about 10 times a day. The theme for The Maury show today was: The DNA test will prove that you are the father of my six kids. I sat and watched as a black couple- complete with deep southern accents, air their dirty laundry and questioned the paternity of a 4-year-old boy affectionately named “Quafeeq.” Why do people still watch this trash?!? I personally don’t believe that Maury’s shows are even real anymore. They must use actors. I mean, everyone knows what happens on Maury’s show…everyone! Somewhere on this planet, Osama Bin Laden is probably watching it and shaking his head saying, “DNA paternity testing again?” How can people come on that show and not know what they’re getting into?
If your boyfriend/girlfriend takes you on that show, you already know what’s coming. They’re cheating on you…and the child or children may not be yours. You’ll sit there with a stupid look on your face, while Maury does his best to console you. He’ll tell you “We can give you a paternity test on your children” but…you’ve gotta bring your dumb ass back on another show and suffer more humiliation. If you’re really unlucky, you’ll have the dubious honor of sitting right next to the sorry bastard that was smashing your woman and wants nothing to do with the children that could potentially be his. In the end, the children oftentimes aren’t yours, and the woman, overwhelmed with humiliation, goes running off into the back room, while the cameraman simply follows her backstage with Maury in hot pursuit. Haven’t they run out of idiots to come on that show for free DNA testing?!? When DNA tests were first available to the public, the primary reason people came on shows like that were because they could not afford them. But now you can actually purchase homemade DNA tests from the supermarket (no bullshit) or have them done for as little as $200, which is much better than flying in to New York City to be embarrassed in front of a studio audience and millions watching around the world.
If you really have a screwed up relationship, your significant other will bring you to Chicago to be a guest on the Jerry Springer Show, a modern day carnival and minstrel show. If you’re ever on Jerry Springer, two things are sure to happen: Your significant other is bound to tell you that they’ve been cheating-oftentimes with a close friend or family member; Moments later that person will emerge from backstage and you two will then fight in front of a frenzied audience, chanting “JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!”
How is it that people still come on those shows and have no clue what they’re in for? It’s gotta be all fake. People without TV’s know not to come on The Jerry Springer and The Maury show.
Question 2: Is there such a thing as too much ass? And at what point does a woman with a fat ass become just a fat ass woman?
I wonder to myself, what caused the rising number of women having surgery on their asses in 2009? Now some will say that it’s no different than women getting breast implants, but this is really getting out of control. It was already difficult for us men to cope with the deception of fake eyelashes, colored contact lenses, and the both tasteful and horrendous weaves. Shit, women even started wearing girdles again in attempts to mask their weight! Now we hafta worry about someone’s ass being fake or padded. And half of the time, it doesn’t even look natural. Look no further than your typical men’s magazine, and you’re almost bound to see a 112 lb woman, with the ass of a woman three times her size-her chicken legs barely equipped to handle her frame. What is causing this? Have us brothas become so engulfed in the size of the ass, that woman feel the need to enhance the gifts that were already God-given? Ladies…imagine how you would feel if you found out that you well-endowed lover was sporting a surgically modified penis. In 2010 I would like to see more women become truly comfortable in their own skin. 
But looking at some of the surgically altered derrières that flood the Internet, rap videos and men’s magazine, I started to wonder if there were a such thing as too much ass? As an African American male, I have a keen appreciation for the rotund backsides that can turn heads and stop traffic. But because those bodies that we enjoy looking at usually don’t come from a daily routine of morning jogs and a healthy diet- but rather fast food and one’s alcoholic beverage of choice-many women with fat asses today are 2-3 slices of cheesecake away from being the fat ass women of tomorrow. Some of the newest video models are as much as 200 lbs in weight, which would be met with utter laughter and mockery from the fashion industry. As a photographer, I believe that one’s size should not limit your marketability in being photographed, however I wonder how the supersized curves of some women will continue to hold up against father time. We’ve all seen physiques that look great in a pair of tight-fitting jeans, but when the clothes come off, the sista with the bodacious curves transform into something resembling a body-slamming WWE Wrestler mounting the top rope for a signature move…scary.
Question 3: What is the psychology behind the growing phenomenon known as “Sexting?” What exactly is sexting? Sexting, which comes from the words sex and texting, is defined as the act of sending sexually explicit messages or photos electronically, primarily between cell phones. It popularized among teenagers having sex over the phone by sending erotic, flirty messages with hints to later meet up for sex. Is sexting the new sex? Mmmm…not really because according to polls, it doesn’t always end in sex-actually only 30% of sexting incidents end up with people having sex. Sexting has become so popular that now middle-aged adults are doing it-ugh! Online sexting is something that I’ve been seeing often; many facebook and myspace profiles contain pictures that sometimes are flagged by the network and taken down. Some risqué pics fall into the wrong hands and have cost people much embarrassment and even their jobs. After all, many morons who engage in this phenomenon don’t realize that many coworkers and bosses search facebook for the profiles of the people that they employ and work with. Many people now lock their cell phones when not in use and guard their phones like hidden treasure because of the pictures and videos that can become uncovered-no pun intended-by an unsuspecting friend or family member who dares to venture into cell phone albums or videos.
But why would people continue to put their reputations and jobs at risk for such a small thrill? Likely because the vast majority of people are morons and common sense really isn’t that common. It’s not uncommon for a woman to ask for a cell phone image on a man’s endowment or a man to ask for a quick tittie shot. But why?!? Could it be because there are so many other idiots that do it? Is it due to the fact that we are an oversexed society? Or could it just be the growing number of people who don’t get enough or get too much attention? In any case, there will be no photos of Ronald Gray gracing anyone’s cell phone screen any time soon, but if you feel the insatiable need to feel desired amid a life of boredom and unfulfilled ambitions, go right ahead and send your pics to 215-834-9343. I’m sure my frat brothers and I will have a great laugh at your expense! 
Questions 4: Do people even think anymore when they select these stupid ass tattoos?!? There’s a young lady who works at the Barber Shop that I frequent in Philadelphia. In my humble opinion, the greatest form of craftsmanship expressed in the art of cutting hair comes from Philadelphia-although that’s beside the point. The Barber Shop is what had inspired this question while looking back on those unanswered in 2009. Within earshot of the seat where I await my biweekly trim from my barber is one of the many chickenheads- who’s aura permeates America’s 5th largest city. On her left arm is the ever-popular first name written in cursive with the random cherry or strawberry under it-a bite is missing from her fruit of choice. As she turns and coons around the shop-blurting about that bitch who’s ass she wants to beat for texting her man-I notice the artwork on her right arm; A revolver pistol with smoke coming from the barrel and the words: RYDE OR DIE BITCH above it. My heads shakes in disgust as I’m reminded whey good brothas in Philly have such a tough time meeting quality women and the good women in Philly are pretty much shit out of luck.
Previously in one of my random thoughts, I expressed detest for facial tattoos. Many consider me an extremely intelligent individual, but even I can’t think of one thing that would look remotely cool or intelligent on one’s face. I began to see a trend of tattoos not only on the face, but the ass as well-perhaps popularized in the strip clubs. Does anyone stop and ever think about how their ass will look at forty with lions, tigers and bears crawling around on it? The very popular porn star Cherokee has one of the most memorable tats on her backside. Every guy knows what I’m talking about. The tattoo on her right ass check that simply says: D’ASS. (laughs) If you’ve ever seen Cherokee, you know why! Besides the fact that Cherokee and the popular porn star “Pinky” are both a blueberry muffin away from being fat, tats like D’Ass will look very stupid on a middle aged woman. Does anyone ever think of that?
Does anyone ever think first before they get R.I.P tattoos of neighborhood homies who passed away?!? What with happen when others pass? Will they get everyone’s name tattoos on them ass well? Does anyone ever think that over a lifetime, we will bury many friends? Do woman and men ever think that when they get boy/girlfriend’s names permanently etched on the skin that perhaps there’s a remote chance that they may one day break up…and some other guy will have to see …Greg…Big Mike…or Man-Man on your lower back every time he wants doggy-style sex? Do men ever stop and think that perhaps the reason that educated, cultured sista won’t take you or what you say seriously is because you have Money Over Bitches tattooed on your forearm? Ever wonder why that employer never called you back after that interview? It could have been the fact that you showed up at the interview late…or your idea of “Business Attire” was a Polo shirt, khakis and Timberland boots (trust me-I’ve seen it)…but it likely was the meaningless sayings that you had tattooed on your neck. I’m not saying that tattoos are wrong or limit one to a lifetime of refilling water glasses at Denny’s. All I’m asking is… did people actually think about the future when they got them?!?
Question 5: Horrendous Clothing in 2009 that costs and arm and a leg: Have fashion designers lost their edge…or their minds?!?
Fashion sucked in 2009- yeah, I said it. It seems as though no matter how stupid the clothing, throw the words Gucci on it and an expensive tag and the masses would go without to have it. This year I saw some of the most horrendous pieces from the Gucci line that I had ever seen. I also saw Gucci release patent leather sneakers with some sort of weird removable shredded piece and market that crap for $350. Guess what? The suckers actually bought it, and convinced themselves that they were fly. I think UGG boots are short for the ugliest things that women could buy for the price they pay (the ones who bought the real ones), but women told themselves, hey…they’re warm. While making a Christmas purchase at a Coach Store, I was horrified by a male who donned a pair of UGG boots for men. Skinny jeans became hot and the teenagers wore them in a multiplicity of colors, ranging from white to all the pastel colors. It was horrible. Black people miraculously stopped wearing jackets in the winter-did anyone else notice that?!? I remember when we used to see white people in January-twenty nine degrees in Philadelphia with a American Eagle hoodie, GAP shorts and some flip flops- and we’d look at them like, look at this mutha-fucka! Where the hell are his clothes?!? Now who’s doing the same thing? The teenage black kids! (laughing) I guess winter coats aren’t cool anymore. 
Are designers running out of fresh, innovative ideas? Or am I bugging? Are we going to be doomed to the trends of history-repeating fashions in 2010?!? Will designers force feed the public horrible, wallet-breaking couture…cleverly masked behind Jay-Z, Kanye West and MTV celebs?
Note: Just some food for thought, guys. And just as the foods with the best nutritional values rarely taste good, you can’t always expect my rhetoric to taste good. Some people will take offense to what I say, but I guess that’s why they’re called Random Thoughts. At times, it may appear as though my words are speaking directly to you. Maybe you love the Maury Show and Jerry Springer. Perhaps you have a dumb ass tattoo…hell, I have a tattoo too and I’m branded in four places. Maybe you have a bit too much ass and now people are dropping hints that it’s time to hit the gym. Shit, my ass needs to go too. (laughs) Maybe you just got finished sending a risqué test message to someone you barely know and your profile pic on facebook is of you in the bathroom mirror in your bra and panties. Don’t change it on account of me and what I write. Love yourself. Embrace who you are. Someone once told me the hardest thing to do in life is to be yourself, the second hardest thing is to accept others for who they are. These are just my random thoughts and the things that go through many of our minds on a daily basic but few have the chance to express. I’m just expressing. Thanks for listening.
“No one but a fool would measure their satisfaction by what the world thinks of it.”
-Oliver Goldsmith
-Oliver Goldsmith
…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…
http://www.thegrayareas.com/
“Don’t forget, you must pitch the OLD BLACK MALE vs. THE YOUNG BLACK MALE. You must use the Dark Skin Slaves vs. the Light Skin Slaves. You must use the Female vs. the Male. You must also have your white servants and overseers Distrust all Blacks, but it is necessary that your slaves trust and depend on us. They must love and respect only us. Gentleman, these kits are your keys to control. Use them. Have your wives and children use them, never miss an opportunity. If used intensively for one year, the slaves themselves will remain perpetually distrustful. Thank you, gentleman.” –Speech delivered by white slave owner Willie Lynch, on the banks of the James River in 1712
I was talking to one of my frat brothers recently about settling down. He expressed an interest in finally relinquishing the life of a free-swinging bachelor, in exchange for a rare opportunity at a serious relationship with the right woman. Now… I’ve heard this song a thousand times before, and within days male friends have gone back on promises of monogamy-but everyone is in fact getting older and perhaps there was some sincerity to his revelation. I became intrigued by his newfound change of heart and asked him to describe his ideal women-perhaps in the naive hope that I could help him find her. He then began to describe his ideal woman as a “light-skinned dime-piece, with light eyes, long hair and a body.”
My face bore a look of disappointment as I was suddenly reminded of how big an idiot he is at times. My inner nerd recalled an Abraham Lincoln quote: “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool then to speak out and remove all doubt.”
I sensed that I already knew the answer that would follow my next question, but I proceeded to ask it anyway. I asked him why he would only entertain dating a light-skinned woman. He looked at me and said, “I can’t mess with anyone darker than me.”
My face stood twisted in discomfort, as I felt the souls of Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth and Rosa Parks simultaneously turn in their graves and call him an idiot. Disappointed, however not totally shocked at his Neanderthal statement, I proceeded to inquire about his latest verbal blurting. Although he actively has sex with sistas of all shades of black, he was making an attempt to explain his preference. He explained that although he could sleep with a multiplicity of shades, the woman that he eventually settles down with must be a perfect ten…in order to keep him faithful. He felt as though sistas who are light-skinned presented the highest levels of outer beauty that he had witnessed in Philadelphia, and therefore were his choice for relationships. He wanted a girl with what he classified as “nice hair” because of the lack of real hair found on sistas in Philadelphia. Real hair is rare here, so therefore sistas with long silky hair captured his interest. His philosophies on dating made about as much sense as the insane homeless men in the park who talk to the pigeons.
I was saddened to see that an educated man in his late twenties could still be color struck. I can’t front…I too used to chase after the light-skinned, long hair sistas…when I was about 15 years old! I came to college-and an HBCU at that, and discovered the plethora of sistas who existed outside of Philadelphia. They came in all shapes and sizes, complexions and hair types. Some cultured, some moronic. Some prudish, and some promiscuous. Hearing some of his statements made me realize much of the post-slavery brainwashing that permeates many African American minds to this very day. The infamous Willie Lynch Letter that I was shown during my college years guaranteed a full proof method for controlling black slaves for another three hundred years if used correctly. Outlined in the letter were a number of differences among the slaves for white slave owners to exploit in order to keep them distrustful and envious of each other. Differences in class (House Negro VS Field Negro), Hair (good hair VS bad hair), Sex, Age, and Skin Tone were used for control purposes. Willie Lynch believed in the controlling tactic: KEEP THE BODY…TAKE THE MIND.
To be perfectly honest, I know lots of educated idiots. There are many people out there who are educated, however are not intelligent. Intelligence is having the capacities to reason, plan, solve problem or think abstractly- the ability to understand and profit from experience. Education merely is the end result of a series of tasks or tests, whereas there is knowledge acquired by learning and instruction. A man who passes all exams with a D has met the minimum passing requirement for education, however cannot be taken seriously as an intelligent man. And such is life. Today we still have black people, some who are fearful of attending historically black institutions of higher learning. Instead they opt to go to predominately white colleges and are brainwashed into believing that they will get the good jobs first, over their peers who attend an HBCU. It’s almost laughable, as I’ve had these debates countless times with close friends who attended nearby West Chester University and Temple University-friends who made a mockery of my HBCU education…to find themselves in the same training classes with the HBCU alum upon graduation. Could a post slavery mode of thinking be to blame for this? It’s quite possible.
Maurice Freehill once asked, “Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark, or the man afraid of the light?”
Someone sent me a link on facebook a few weeks ago http://afieldnegro.com/photos.html and when I opened it, I was directed to a site that was written under the moniker A Field Negro. The entry had numerous pictures of black male celebrities that were currently dating or were married to white women. Many of the interracial relationships featuring black male celebs I had already known about, but some were somewhat surprising to hear of. I had no idea that Michael Jordan after his breakup with his African American wife for years, was currently engaged to a white woman…not that I gave a shit either way! (laughs) But the writer pointed to a growing trend of African American men’s desires to do away with sistas and cling to white, Asian or European women-the theory being that men have grown tired of the ensuing drama that comes with dating women of color. Listening to the style of writing, I figured, here’s another angry black sista…expressing her displeasure with the increasing number of interracial relationships featuring successful men of color. But upon reading the About The Author section, I was surprised to find that the writer was a man. He appeared upset at the current state of black women in America and explained that successful cultured men would rather be with a white woman who could appreciate what they have to offer…minus the drama. I was shocked.
My eyes surveyed the long list of pictures of black celebrities, photographed next to their white wife’s, and girlfriends: Charles Barkley, Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Eric Lasalle, Tim Duncas, Taye Diggs, Tiger Woods, Dennis Rodman, Wesley Snipes and many others. I never saw anything wrong with interracial relationships-the issue in my eyes not worth creating a site to vent one’s anger and frustration. Me personally…I date the sistas. I love the sistas…drama and all. (laughs) It takes a special type of person to deal with any person of color, but there’s nothing greater than the love between two people who share a genuine interest in each other. The only issue I have is when you have a person who has a ridiculous reason for refusing to date a particular race…specifically their own. I remember being a huge fan of Dennis Rodman, one of the NBA’s greatest rebounders in the history of the sport. Dennis Rodman lived an extremely controversial life-he said what he wanted to say…he did what he wanted to do. In the 90’s, he published a book called Bad As I Wanna Be. As a huge Basketball fan, I purchased the book, hoping to take a peek inside the mind of the NBA’s biggest enigma. Beyond the crazy hairdos, tattoos and piercings, Dennis Rodman was someone who grew up a very awkward child. He was fatherless and lacked direction. I recall him explaining why he chose not to date black women as a multi-millionaire celebrity. He stated that black women called him ugly as a child and made fun of him. He discussed losing his virginity at 22 years old to a prostitute in the Oklahoma projects where he was raised because no one wanted him. Awwww…(pulling out my violin to play him a tune) Black celebs really need to get over that shit. To refuse to date black women because a few made fun of you as a child is in fact childish! Who wasn’t teased as a child?!? It’s one of the worst cop-outs a man can ever use to justify foolish, infantile actions.
Wesley Snipes is another color struck African American male celebrity, who refused to date black women because he said that they made fun of his dark complexion as a youth. He currently is married to an Asian woman and they have several children. If a man or woman happens to find love from another race…great. It’s never easy finding your soul mate and one’s soul mate doesn’t have to be of the same race. Love is love and love is a beautiful thing. But I personally can’t stand when people discredit their own race (or any other for that matter) and run to the arms of another, simply because they have the right complexion to get the connection.
I laugh every day at Tiger Wood’s stupid ass. Woods is one hell of a golfer, but in my eyes, he epitomizes the modern day Uncle Tom. I watched an old CNN interview of Tiger Woods when he was about 21 or 22 years old. The interviewer marveled at his accolades in golf and asked him how it felt to be an African American golfer fighting for respect in a sport dominated by older white men. He spoke on his hard work and mental preparation, but even in his early twenties, something seemed strange about Woods. He appeared highly intelligent, but seemed hesitant to speak on his African American and Asian ancestry. He still seemed to have no problems with being referred to as “African American” or a “minority.”
Once Woods won the prestigious Master’s tournament, his popularity was sky high. African Americans began to watch intently when he played. It was shortly after that he requested not to be called African-American. He referred to himself as Cablasian. I was done with that fool. We all know the story from there- torrid affairs with various white women. To his credit, I will say that his Swedish model wife is beautiful! (laughs) Fuck Tiger Woods. Another example of someone who refused to accept what he is-someone who looks in the mirror and sees something different that we do. I just find it very ironic that the very same people who he wanted to assimilate with…the people he choose to identify with…are taking away his money and destroying his reputation. Perhaps now he is beginning to realize that no one is above reproach, and at the end of the day, millions of dollars and a posh, lavish life will not buy you respect among your race or the races of those who choose to oppose, embrace or expose you.
To the women of the world (specifically the sistas) who feel pressured to fit a certain stigma that television force feeds down our throats, understand that no matter the shade of your skin, the length of your hair, or the proportion of your bodies…African American women are beautiful and to be celebrated. I love a sista with locks just as much as the sistas who may choose to get a perm. Unfortunately, the brainwashing is not just in the hands of MTV and BET. If you ever stop and watch the news, every news anchor is an attractive woman with light or white skin and long hair. What the hell is that about?!?Sistas…we love y’all and I apologize for the idiotic ramblings of some of us brothas out here and our warped perceptions and expectations. Hopefully in this world where many are still color struck, you can still continue to mesmerize and turn the heads of those who can appreciate you for who you are, and the Queens can find their Kings…no matter the age, race, or class.
“We reversed nature by burning and pulling a civilized nigger apart and bull whipping the other to the point of death, all in her presence. By her being left alone, unprotected, with the MALE IMAGE DESTROYED, the ordeal caused her to move from her psychological dependent state to a frozen independent state. In this frozen psychological state of independence, she will raise her MALE and female offspring in reversed roles. For FEAR of the young males life she will psychologically train him to be MENTALLY WEAK and DEPENDENT, but PHYSICALLY STRONG. Because she has become psychologically independent, she will train her FEMALE off springs to be psychological independent. What have you got? You’ve got the Nigger WOMAN OUT FRONT AND THE Nigger MAN BEHIND AND SCARED.” –The Willie Lynch Letter and The Making Of A Slave: The Breaking Process Of The African Woman
“Take all the fools out of this world and there wouldn’t be any fun living in it, or profit. “ –Josh Billings
…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray
http://www.thegrayareas.com/
“Love may exist without jealousy, although this is rare; but jealousy may exist without love, and this is common.” –Unknown
If you were to look up the word love, you’d be likely to see a plethora of definitions and opinions of what it is. Some would say it’s a strong positive emotion of regard and affection, like a man’s love for his work. Others will say it’s a profound, passionate affection for another person, a sexual passion or desire.
As beautiful as love is, love is never present without jealousy. Francois de la Rochefoucauld once said, “Jealousy is bred in doubts. When those doubts change into certainties, then the passion either ceases or turns into absolute madness.”
(Yes…I have an “inner nerd” that often retains tons of useless information like that)
So what causes jealous love? The truth is, there are many things that can be credited to a jealous counterpart. One of the most common reasons for jealously is the assumption of infidelity and the perceived notion that one could be intertwined in a love triangle. In virtually every love triangle, the arrangement is unsuitable to one or more of those involved. One person usually winds up getting hurt-sometimes literally. A common love triangle involves one person, torn between two other suitors of vastly contrasting personalities. One of them could be a nice guy type that treats you good, and the other a physically attractive bad boy that is potentially dangerous. Eventually, choices must be made and the nice guy is often perceived as “too good to be true” and the bad boy winds up becoming the more desirable partner. Unrequited love and jealousy go hand in hand with love triangles, and although rare, some love triangles have ended in murder, suicide or long lasting aftereffects from the rejected lover.
The only thing worse than a love triangle, is being accused of being in a love triangle by a jealous mate. Yes…it’s true. I too have been accused of creeping with someone else’s girl. Think I’m bullshitting? Well, here’s my story:
“The ear of jealousy heareth all things.” –The Holy Bible
I wasn’t always a Photographer. Those who follow my Random Thoughts or know me personally know that I was quite the fashion design student at Cheyney University. It was the summer of 2000, and I was a 20 year-old looking for work during the summer break from college, aspiring to be a fashion designer. I was given a retail sales position in the Men’s Department at the Lord & Taylor department store on City Line Avenue in Philadelphia. I had gotten my first car just days ago- a metallic purple Honda Accord SE. A college student with a $16,000 car and a five-year payment plan would likely think, “How the hell am I gonna pay for this?” but I was on top of the world. I was getting screwed with my menial retail job, paying a mere $6.50 an hour, but I was also working as a Photographer’s Assistant (and 2 years later became a photographer myself) and that money more than made up for Lord & Taylor’s slave wages.
To be honest, Lord & Taylor was a pretty cool job. I got a great employee discount on clothes (When you go to an HBCU, it’s imperative to stay fresh), a consistent check every week, and the company of friendly employees. The majority of employees in the Men’s Department were young, and helped me transition quickly, without making me feel like “the new guy.” The women who worked there were no Halle Berry’s, but they were cool and their likeable personalities helped the time fly by during long shifts. At the time, I was the only one of the younger employees with a reliable means of transportation. Everyone else relied on the Bus. Most of my coworkers lived in nearby West Philadelphia and if they missed their bus after a long shift, it wasn’t uncommon for them to ask for a ride home. I would take the 4 of them (often three females and one male) on a 5-8 minute ride and drop them off at their homes-it was never an inconvenience. It’s just one of those things that nice guys do, Right?
One day during my hour-long lunch break, one of the females in my department asked to get dropped off at the Shop n Bag grocery store, which happened to be in the same complex as Lord & Taylor, just on the opposite end end-about 150 yards away. It was common for her to walk over there during a lunch break on payday to cash her check at a local bank, which was located inside of the grocery store. Her asking to be dropped off didn’t inconvenience me much, because the distance was only a minute’s drive. She explained that it was raining outside and she didn’t want to walk down and back. Minutes later, here I am…Mr. Nice Guy…giving a ride to a co-worker in need. She got out of my car at the main doors and said, “Can you wait for me? I’m gonna cash this check and be right back out.”
I’m thinking to myself, Here we go… Give a Nigga an inch, and they take a yard. But after all, I was still on my lunch break and had only spent about 3 minutes of it so far. This wouldn’t take long at all.
Fifteen minutes later…here I am…double-parked outside the Shop n Bag grocery store with my face is a scowl, suddenly reminded of why they say that Nice Guys Finish Last. She comes out after about 20 minutes and before she could enter the car, she pauses and then walked over to an older model Subaru that was double-parked on the opposing side of traffic, about twelve feet in front of me. A slender guy walks over to her and they begin to exchange words. I happened to have the music up and couldn’t hear a word of what they were saying, but it didn’t look good. Their arms were flailing in the air like they were arguing and on one occasion he motioned over in the direction of my car. I smirked to myself and continued to listen to my music- impatiently waiting for this dumb girl to get back in the car so I could enjoy what was left of my lunch. Moments later, he got back into his car and she returned to mine. “Jealous Mutha-fucka,” she mumbled under her breath …as I drove off to return to work.
I finished out my lunch break in the break room with my co-worker. An awkward silence loomed in the room, due to the parking lot confrontation witnessed just a few minutes ago. When my lunch break was over, I returned to the sales floor to earn my slave wages. As I partook in the monotonous duties of a retail worker- cleaning displays and refolding Ralph Lauren shirts-I began to ring up a few customers who had finally settled on their purchases. While scanning away and ringing up their items, I hear a voice say, “Ayo fam…lemme holla at you for a second.”
I look up, and stepping out from behind a mirrored pillar next to the waiting customers…was the very same guy that my coworker was arguing with in the parking lot while getting a ride from me. This mutha-fucka…is at my mutha-fuckin’ job! Are you serious?!? I had a thousand questions racing through my head. Is this guy some kind of jealous boyfriend? Is he here to fight? What the hell is this fool doin’ at my job?!?
So, I finished up my sales transaction and walked right over to him. After all, I didn’t do anything wrong. He stood about 5’9 and was even slimmer than I was. He looked as though he had been crying and seemed uneasy. I’m thinking to myself, Worst case scenario…he tries some dumb shit in here…Imma kick his ass up and down this sales floor easily…with my suit and shoes on! (laughing)
He appeared nervous talking to me as I listened intently. “Look, I ain’t even here to fuck with you,” he said. “I just wanna ask you one question.”
My right hand remained clinched in a tight fist…just in case this idiot dared to try me. “Have you ever been to the house, or around our daughter?” I was standing close enough to smell the beer on his breath. I wasn’t even sure at this point if there would even be any reasoning with him. He appeared to be alone, though he was with a few others when I initially saw him in the parking lot. My patience was already wearing thin with this dumb situation. I had never been accused of messing around with someone else’s girl. I said, “Look…it’s not like that. I just work here and she asked me for a ride to cash a check. I don’t mess with any of these co-workers, don’t come to anyone’s house, and don’t deal with anyone else’s women.” He still didn’t seem convinced. Frankly, I didn’t give a shit. There were more customers that needed my assistance and I had no intention on swearing on bibles and taking polygraph tests. I told him that he could wait until I was done with my customers and we could rap-even bring her over to explain if need be. He sits on a fixture nearby, on top of some shirts that I had recently folded. Ignorant Bastard.
You know, God works in mysterious ways. On that particular day at that particular time, our department is usually very slow and boring. Because I had some insecure moron at my job…today, business was insane. I had a line of people to deal with, and he just had to wait. He began to pace back and forth, which made me extremely nervous as I fought to hold back my laughter. My coworker was miraculously nowhere to be found. Eventually I get rid of all of the frenzied customers and looked for this mystery character. He was gone. I explained the story to one of the other employees amid all of her laughter at my unfortunate luck. I decided that I would express a few choice words to my coworker about her psychotic boyfriend coming to my job, confronting me about nonsense. Strangely, I didn’t see her for the duration of the evening. The next day I came to work, and she didn’t show up. Our manager asked if anyone had spoken to her to seen her that day. None of us knew her whereabouts. It was as though she vanished.
The following day, I stood on the Men’s floor, bored out of my mind. As a began to ring up a sale for a customer, my register phone rang. In the event that someone calls the department store and has a question for our department, the dispatcher will transfer them to any one of the registers on the sales floor. I took the call. “Men’s department…Ron speaking.” There was heavy breathing on the other end. “Hello?” I repeated. The breathing became louder. I hung up the phone and continued working. Two minutes later, my register phone rang again. A familiar voice spoke out on the other end, almost in a whisper. “Ayo…remember me?” I began to shake my head in annoyance, because I realized it was the same moron from the other day. “How can I help you?” I asked, in my most sarcastic of tones. This game was beginning to become very annoying. The next words that followed I still remember crystal clear to this very day: “Yo…my girl… is gonna be coming back to work eventually. I’m telling you…If I ever catch you anywhere near her or with her again…I swear to God…I’m going to kill you.”
Now I was pissed. I never had my life threatened, and I wasn’t about to be threatened by some skinny ass nut-job who could barely make eye contact with me when he was standing two feet away from me two days ago.
Now I’m from Philadelphia, and I refuse to underestimate anyone. Personally, I think he was just a dog without teeth, however those very same guys are the first ones to go running for a gun to solve their perceived problems. I knew not to take this threat lightly, so I actually did what most people in my situation would have done. I reported it. I ended up in the security office, filing a report with the officers on site, in the event that this moron would actually attempt to make good on his promise. They checked the tapes from the day that he showed up on the sales floor and they even had outside surveillance from the car that he arrived in. There was only one last thing that I had to do…inform my hood ass friends of this potential death threat. I figured if something were to happen to me…all hell was gonna break loose! (laughing) If I was gonna end up caught up in some nonsense for giving someone I wasn’t even attracted to a ride…then we would see if he was as crazy as the lunatics that I grew up with from the block. (lauging)
My coworker never returned to work that day, and never returned to work at all. I had never seen or heard from the psychotic boyfriend either. Five weeks after the incident, it was time for me to return to college and turn the page to another chapter of my life. I never realized how quickly something as innocent as a ride for a coworker could trigger the jealousy of a jaded lover. Erica Jones once said, “Jealousy is all the fun you think they had.” I had learned to be very careful of the company that I keep. You read about love triangles and people who pay the ultimate sacrifice for a few minutes of pleasure with another person’s lover. You really hafta be careful…
“While intelligent people can often simplify the complex, a fool is more likely to complicate the simple.” –Gerald W. Grumet
…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…
To preview the archive of previous random thoughts, visit http://www.thegrayareas.com/
“What I’m hearing which is sort of scary is that they all want to stay in Texas. Everybody is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway so this is (chuckle) –this is working very well for them.” -Former First Lady Barbara Bush, on the hurricane evacuees at the Astrodome in Houston, September 5th 2005
There are few things that annoy the Educated Negro more than those who display ignorance during interviews to demean a race of people, or publicly display their abilities to be out of touch with the realities that plague the less fortunate. But today, I had something else on my mind. No one ever touches on the issue of those who play… the Race Card. For those unfamiliar with that term, Race Card is a metaphorical reference to a Trump Card, which is used to gain advantages in card games. The race card is the act of bringing race or racism into a debate-oftentimes being used to negate the real issue at hand.
Many people say the biggest example of The Race Card came in the form of the O.J Simpson trial. Critics say that O.J’s defense team played the race card to help him avoid conviction for murder. They brought up Mark Furman’s racist past and informed the jury that he was once caught on police surveillance using the word “nigger.” His past accusations of tampering with murder evidence in prior cases also came into play. In the end, O.J was found Not Guilty- but his public displays of stupidity that resulted in the following years left many to wonder if he in fact was guilty and saved by the Race Card. In any case, it really didn’t matter because OJ- being the typical former celebrity turned Public Coon, wound up in prison anyway serving a nine-year sentence for an armed confrontation with sports memorabilia dealers in 2007. OJ was forcefully taking back items that originally belonged to him, and the same goons that were hired to assist him with his dirty work, made deals with prosecutors in exchange for testimonies against O.J’s Dumb ass.
If O.J Simpson’s defense used the race card to acquit him of murder charges, then former NBA player, Jayson Williams has a Platinum Race Card and has no problem using it. This 6’10 moron played basketball for St. John’s University and was selected in the 1st round of the NBA draft. He played for the Phoenix Suns, Philadelphia 76ers and the New Jersey Nets. He’s also known for killing his limousine driver in 2002. Costas Christofi was hired to drive Jayson Williams and his NBA charity team from a basketball event to his mansion. Williams, setting black people back 25 years, was playing with a shotgun while giving a tour of his 30,000 square-foot Mansion- when the shotgun went off and killed the limo driver. Somehow a jury was deadlocked on reckless manslaughter charges, and the family settled a wrongful death civil lawsuit for $2.75 million.
Jayson Williams currently faces a retrial on the manslaughter charges, but was also slapped upside the head with four counts of trying to cover up the shooting. Just when you figure he can’t shame black folk further, he makes News Headlines…again, giving white folks plenty to laugh at. The New York Police Department had to stun him with a taser in a New York Hotel in April 2009, after they reported that he had become suicidal and violent. Just like the night he killed his driver, Williams was once again visibly intoxicated, with pills found in his possession. He was again arrested, but the modern day minstrel show didn’t stop there.
Williams was arrested a month later in Raleigh, North Carolina for punching a man in the face in a bar. He was charged with assault, with the charges being later dropped by the victim. Now…all these random acts of niggerosity were bound to make him look guilty with his murder retrial date approaching, and Jayson Williams needed something big. He needed something that would help the jury sympathize with him and keep his dumb ass from going to prison. His defense team wanted to review the records surrounding a former Hunterdon County Investigator who they said described Williams with a racial slur in a meeting sometime before the 2004 trial. Ahhh…that trusty Race Card. Today, after 7 years of police work, Williams remains free on bail after slapping white people in the face with his Platinum Race Card and has yet to be sentenced on the four cover-up convictions. If only there were convictions given for being an idiot.
“Racism is not an excuse to not do the best you can.” –Arthur Ashe
Today, we have many people who use the race card, as if it negates the dumb shit that they do. Every day, I read about some bank in Philadelphia being robbed at gunpoint-virtually all of them being robbed by our people. Each man that gets caught gives prosecutors and judges the same song and dance about how hard life is for the black man and how their kid needed money, or needed food and they had to do what they had to do- each one reaching for that good ol’ Race Card. The Race Card doesn’t change the fact that many people prove to be the very same negative stereotypes that we can’t stand. Question… What kind of moron still robs banks in 2009?!? Seems every day in The Philadelphia Daily News, I see some new idiot in a Phillies baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses captured by bank surveillance cameras. Do you really think that no one knows who you are? And even if you evade escape for a while…you’ve stolen…what? Two…three thousand dollars?!? That won’t go very far with a moron. After the daily purchase of their drug of choice, things for the kid, past-due daycare fees and back rent, one will barely have enough to cover dinner at Sizzler and a box of condoms.
Upon their inevitable capture, it’s always amazing to hear people pull the race card and blame their environment. Now some who read this say, “No, Ron…people from the hood have it rough and oftentimes make mistakes.”
…As if Ronald Gray was raised in the suburbs…
Yes, I will agree with that statement. Residents of the hood do have it rough. But there’s a difference between those who make silly mistakes in perilous times and those who are simply taking the easy way out. My family hails from Jamaica. Those who’ve seen movies such as Belly or Shottas, get a minor glimpse of how bad things can be in Third World Countries where there’s real poverty. It’s almost laughable when some stick-up kid is expressing to a judge that he had to “do what he had to do” because his baby needed money, diapers or food. I have family that just a few years ago got electricity in their homes for the first time. I have cousins that have never had new clothes purchased for them. They don’t know what it’s like to have a Birthday Party thrown for them. Americans rent out clubs to show off for Birthdays that no one really cares about- then come home late on the rent and figure they gotta do what they gotta do for their kid, by robbing other poor people?
The other day I walked by a City Blue clothing store. I haven’t been in City Blue in years! I no longer see the need, because I’ve long put away the Timberland Boots and sneakers in exchange for shoes. I’m often seen in ties, but don’t get it twisted. I’m not Mr. Wall Street. I’ve just grown up, my style of dress has evolved, and I’m attempting to inspire many others to do the same. Something just compelled me to look over at the glass windows, where a female store worker was doing some merchandising. My eyes widened as I noticed a stroller in the window, accessorizing a male and female mannequin dressed in the latest fall fashions. But that wasn’t just any stroller. It was a Rocawear stroller, retailing for $150…marked as a Sale item. Now, in these tough economic times…who finds it necessary to buy a Rocawear stroller? Sadly, far too many black folk do. Yet, oftentimes many will complain about the economy and blame a racist society for their inability to get ahead.
With 2010 approaching fast, it’s time for our people to put away their race cards and own our shortcomings. The biggest problem with the race card is that s many people abuse it; then the day comes when some real racists shit happens that requires everyone’s attention…and no one’s listening. There are Jena 6-type situations that happen all the time, but instead people try and get Americans to sympathize for Michael Vick’s dumb ass. We have a President that needs a nation’s support, patience and trust…but instead we have families of convicted felons complaining that Lil’ Pookie couldn’t find a good job when he came home from prison, so he had to go back to the streets. Well…to the supporters of morons I say this: Lil’ Pookie shoulda took his ass to Wendy’s and got a job making Spicy Chicken sandwiches. It’s safer and much more warm that standing on the corner with $20 worth of crack rock in his pocket! We gotta stop blaming other people for the dumb shit…and make things happen. You guys agree?
You can be up to your boobies in white satin, with gardenias in your hair and no sugar cane for miles, but you can still be working on a plantation.
– Billie Holiday
– Billie Holiday
…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…
You simply get chills every time you see these poor individuals…many of these people, almost all of them that we see are so poor and they are so black, and this is going to raise lots of questions for people who are watching this story unfold.” –CNN’s Wolf Blitzer, on New Orleans’ hurricane evacuees, Sept. 1, 2005