Uncertainty

Uncertain about the leap into uncertainty.

Uncertain of where the road will lead.

Uncertain of where the money will come from.

Uncertain of how long the journey will take.

Uncertain if the journey will end.

Uncertain if the end goal is indeed the end.

Uncertain if the end justifies the means of expense.

Uncertain if one is capable of the overload of work on top of work.

Uncertain of one’s self-confidence being hampered by fear.

Uncertain if one is ready to embrace the leap into uncertainty.

Uncertainty.

Life is uncertain.

Embrace it and leap.

Progression demands it of you.

Jitters

The first day of class has come and pass in a refreshing fashion. I honestly did not know what to expect from a real school that costs more money to attend in one year than my previous five combined at community college. The thought of sheer failure after all was said and spent has literally stressed me for weeks. I have been so shaken by the idea of it that I haven’t been able to even attempt to write anything since the thoughts of doom and gloom began taking over my uncontrollable mind. Darkness swept in and swallowed my entire existence for weeks. I’m talking about a pure darkness... not the muted gray that defines me on a weekly, if not daily, basis. But something changed when I arose the morning after my 26th birthday.

It was a brisk day yesterday... my last day of life as I’ve known it for some time now. It had been roughly three years since I had a “last day of summer vacation” but this one felt no different than any other back to school experience I’ve ever known. The cool and calming day was followed by a chilly, autumn-esque night. I cracked open a window before bed for the first time since I moved into my new home 5 months ago. A slight breeze whisked into the room and soothed my nerves as I lay starring at the ceiling, stirring in uncertainty not knowing what the first day of the next few years of my life would bring me when I awoke the next morning. A deep breath and a good laugh at a Family Guy re-run cleared my mind of worry and I drifted into a land of strange dreams.

The morning brought pure coldness to my bones. A sort of cruel, self-inflicted obstacle to hurdle upon reluctantly pulling back the covers at 6 AM on a Monday morning... OK, so it was a Tuesday morning. I was off on Monday so Tuesday sure as shit felt like a Monday to me. Typical weekday morning until I decided to grab a jacket before I left the house. For some reason, the simple act of reaching for a light jacket brought joy to my soul. As I turned from locking the door behind me and began walking to my truck, that old familiar smell of Fall found it’s way my way sending a chill down my spine. It was the most refreshed I had felt in years.

When you work the same time, every day, every week, every month... there is no separation. Life becomes more of a mono-toned existence. Throw in the pure repetition that comes with being locked behind a desk in an office and an insurmountable feeling of insanity will soon begin to battle your mental stability. Once that comes to a boil, toss in your reoccurring fear of failure and your tally of debt that is roughly 150 times your net worth, sprinkle in the possibility that you may lose your job in the coming months (if not weeks) and you may start to understand why I began to spiral back down the dark road of self-loathing bitterness wrapped in a blanket of self-pity.

I can’t express my gratitude for the way the last 36 hours have played out and the importance of their timing. The lost familiarity that comes with the “First day of school” and the subsequent feelings it brought really revived my motivation and has given me a new found sense of hope and confidence as I steer my way into deeper waters. I felt good about being in class once I found my way there after another dismal day at work. I even began to feel at ease about my worries of not finding work after graduation just an hour into my journey. I realize now that if I can just commit myself to something I know is meant for me, the universe will light the way.

Jason Whitlock is a Racist Prick

I don’t understand how Jason Whitlock has a syndicated column. His whole shtick is racism. He is a racist who shuns racism. Yes, you read that correct. His entire gig is the accusation of racism through the rhetoric of one of the most racist human beings to ever be given a published public forum. This post is my dedication to the disgust that his most recent article has sparked in me. Jason Whitlock may never read this… then again, I imagine he sits around and Googles himself most of the day… but I just have to express my complaints so I can resume the rest of my day.

The Erin Andrews scandal is by no means any kind of racial issue no matter how Whitlock tries to spin it. The Erin Andrews scandal is an issue of privacy… a violation of privacy without knowledge while behind a closed and locked door. If I were to go to the hotel next door and place a reverse peephole viewing camera on the door of a paying customer (black or white, male or female) inside the hotel, I would be arrested without a shadow of doubt. I would be charged and input as a Peeping-Tom in the National Sex Offender Registry.

With the pictures and video circulating the web, this has become a national embarrassment to Ms. Andrews and to publicly discredit the issue by accusing ESPN for being racist by NOT further embarrassing one of their own employees is a disgrace to the ethics of media journalism. Jason Whitlock is a downright scoundrel trying to create a stir out of a non-issue and further promoting the divide between the races that make up the majority of this nation.

His examples of “injustice” to the black community bear no resemblance or relevance to this particular issue. Stuart Scott’s alleged text message scandal was never a national issue. In fact, his column was the first time I heard of the alleged “Lemme know” text that proves nil and promotes nothing except speculation.

Isiah Thomas’ suit against him for sexual harassment went to court and he was ordered by a jury to pay 11.6 million dollars to the accuser. Shannon Brown’s civil suit got just as much attention in the media as Ben Roethlisberger’s civil suit sans criminal investigation so there is no point to be argued there either.

The biggest negligence to truth came in his reference to Pacman. Pacman Jones’ off-field drama last season was not just a media exploitation… it was more of a snowball building of numerous stories that surrounded the troubled corner back. In the span of 2 years, the man got in an altercation with a valet attendant while on probation, was pulled over and arrested for being connected to a cocaine bust, was arrested and charged for disorderly conduct and public drunkenness after spitting in the face of a woman at a nightclub, beat down his own personal security guard while in a drunken stupor, was involved in shooting at a Las Vegas strip club after publicly assaulting a stripper, and was accused of allegedly ordering a hit by members of his entourage after an altercation at an Atlanta nightclub. The media attention that he got was very much warranted and it had to do with the fact that he was an out of control hooligan, not because of the fact that he was a black male athlete.

Athletes of all races are targeted by gold-diggers and con artists for the money in their pocket, not the color of their skin. The reporting of bullshit cases get tired and wears on the audience.

I am surprised and regularly appalled by Fox Sports for the publishing of Jason Whitlock’s columns on a weekly basis, but his most recent article in regards to the Erin Andrews story has struck a nerve so deep that if I ever see that pigheaded, overzealous bastard, I will surely leave knuckle indentations on his bloated jaw line. The fact that this guy won an award for National Journalism is a greater disgrace to the industry than the political and corporate alignment of the major market newspapers. At least they aren’t fooling anybody.

Putting to Rest the Pervert of Pop

Disgust is hindering my productivity over the last hour because of the debacle that has become the Michael Jackson funeral. I've been trying to avoid this topic, but I have to let some of this out.

First off, I’d like to get it out there that I was one of the millions of fans who listened to every MJ record when it came out. I used to moon-walk through the kitchen, do a spin, and grab my crotch when I got to the fridge. I was a childhood fan of the biggest pop phenomenon of my generation. I even remember where I was when the Black or White video first premiered. But then, I got older and started to understand what a whacko the guy was. At first, I was cool with it. There’s nothing wrong with being weird in a world full of weirdoes and crazies. But then the mother fucker hangs a baby over a balcony and has case after case of lawsuits filed and charges pressed against him accusing him of being a pedophile.

That was it... the end all be all. He became a habitual line stepper and with his musical genius vastly beginning to slip away, the obscurities of the King of Pop came to the forefront. The “smooth criminal” was now a perverted criminal with more under-the-knife experimentations than a college level biology class. Eventually he disappeared from the lime light, lost every dollar he ever made, and buried himself in what the Wall Street Journal estimated at $500 Million of debt.

The first headline Michael Jackson made in the last 10 years was when the story broke in the Los Angeles Times that he was dead. There was a reason for that. Some people had enough decency not to give a sick and twisted child molester the glorification that everyone has all of a sudden began to embrace since the passing of the perverted icon. I’m not trying to be the cynic here. I’m not making an argument for the sake of making an argument. I’m looking at this from the perspective of someone who hopes to someday have children. Who the fuck has the audacity to praise a man for his music and disregard the fact that he may have molested children?

One reason the man died broke and immersed in a mountain of debt was the fact that he settled out of court in each case to avoid federal prosecution, much like politicians and catholic priests accused of the same crime have done. I would be willing to bet that not a single god damn person praising Michael Jackson in his passing would have even considered the thought of sending their child to visit and stay with him for a weekend. If you would have, then you’re a sick bastard and you should consider neutering yourself and putting any child you may already have up for adoption so they can have a nurturing home to grow up in, free from the possibility of rape and molestation.

The thing that really gets me though… besides the assholes who went out and got tattoos commemorating the King of Perversion… is the people who are genuinely offended that the city of Los Angeles has asked the Jackson family to help pay for the funeral ceremony which will play host to millions of drooling diehard fans with nothing better to do than cry and praise their fallen hero on a Tuesday afternoon in the streets of a major city facing economic collapse. The last thing the city of Los Angeles needs is for their streets to be shut down by rioting lunatics in tears and a multi-million dollar bill to foot the cost of attempting to control the mass hysteria. If the Jackson family wants to have this huge celebration then they need to pay the tab at the end of the day. If I died tomorrow, the city or town I live in is not going to cover the cost of my funeral and that's without the expectation of millions of cooks with sequined gloves impersonating me and showing off their tattoos wishing me a peaceful rest.

Congratulations America... You're getting even fatter.

In America, we live among abundance. We buy more than we need and we consume more than we produce. There are fast food franchises all over the place and the shelves of our supermarkets are swelling with food that is just as bad for you. Children are growing up drinking soda that is overloaded with high fructose corn syrup and pure sugar with a splash of caffeine. Then we wonder why they grow up to continue their awful diets that lead them to bowling ball bellies and cascades of cellulite.

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It's becoming an epidemic and it's being masked behind brand named ailments like diabetes and heart disease. The truth of the matter is, our diets and our lack of exercise lead us to these unhealthy levels and this new standard of being overweight is growing more and more accepted.

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And how do we respond to the growing number of lazy obese citizens taking over our communities and monopolizing all the handicap parking spots because they might pass out from overheating while walking an extra 100 feet?

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We glorify them.

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Fat Power!

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Welcome to the country where Obesity has demanded its own civil rights movement. Believe it or not, there is a "Fat Acceptance Movement" currently making strides in a social community near you. We actually give these fat bastards a chance to demand acceptance in a public forum. It amazes me. Obesity is not something you are born with. It's unlike race, gender, sexual orientation, mental health… all issues that demanded a defending of their rights. Obesity is a disease of obsession. Obsession for food (shit food to be precise)... laced with trans fats, sugar, high fructose corn syrup, steroid induced meats, grease... the list goes on and on.

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Sugar is a fat man's crack. Think that's an overstatement? Lock a fat person in a room without anything to eat except fruits, vegetables, and lean meat. Give them some water, close the door, barricade it shut, and proceed to watch the fits that they go through over the course of 3 days. It will enlighten you. Granulated sugar actually has a chemical affect on your body and your brain. I detoxed myself over the course of 3 days and the headaches from my blood sugar dropping was debilitating. There is something to be said about that.

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There is something purely addictive behind refined sugar that keeps us coming back for more and that is where the obsession comes from. It’s marketing genius really. Hook line and sinker. Cigarettes use nicotine to ensnare its customers. The food industry uses sugar (and who knows what else) to keep us craving the foods that are so horribly bad for our figures and our health that we normally would not continue to eat.

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So take heed to the foods you consume and make sure to get your exercise in at some point during the week, for there is a tornado of portliness and health problems that will sweep you away with the rest of the nation if you do not… adding you to the statistics.

FDA Malpractice

The federal government has once again appalled me through the scapegoat of one of its over-funded, unnecessarily important, and mismanaged goons. The Department of Health and Human Services’ top hound dog, the FDA, is now poking it's nosiness into the world of pain killers, voting to lower the dosage of acetaminophen in Tylenol and eliminating Vicodin and Percocet all together... "Liver failure" being said as the cause for this decision.

Let us look at the effects this decision will have as a whole...

1. People who take Tylenol to ease aches and pains regularly take extra dosages to alleviate as much pain as they can, complaining that the current dosage is not enough. By lowering the dosage per pill, the number of pills being taken will be sure to increase which will in turn sell more bottles of Tylenol as they will not last quite as long as its predecessor.

2. Vicodin and Percocet are prescribed to people with serious chronic pain. They are the last resort scripts written before the script of oxycodone, aka Oxycotin... the closest thing to pure heroin one can get via a licensed drug dealer. Mind you that Oxycotin is by far the most addictive and most damaging drug available through prescription. In fact, Percocet is often prescribed as a transition drug to wean patients off their Oxycotin prescription.

So somebody please tell me how the FDA is improving service to the citizen customers of this country when cigarette and alcohol sales go relatively unregulated in terms of toxin dosage. When it comes to over-the-counter medications, nothing is going to stop people from taking whatever dosage they deem fit for themselves. Some people take 4-5 pills now... you're trying to tell me that they're not going to take 8 pills from the new proposed packaging because the FDA says the present day pills are too strong? There's common sense that destroys all reasoning behind this. It's almost as if they are trying to put more people in a bind. More pain. Higher cost for patients/consumers. More dope addicts. Is that the intent?... because that's how it's looking from this side of the fence.

You may think I'm going a little far by accusing the FDA of purposely attacking the well being of The People. I don't think I am. Government funded programs are notorious for civil rights infringements. The FCC attacks Free Speech on a daily basis. The Department of Education has ruined our education system by lowering standards and teaching children to think what they are told to think as conformity runs amok. Shit, the FDA is the culprit who regulates the vaccinations loaded with mercury that we give our children and has been linked to the autism breakout in our country. So why the hell should we trust these agencies with our well-being?

Maybe the FDA should focus more on preventing the spread of E.Coli and Salmonella from disease infested factories to the cafeterias of our schools and eliminating the use of pesticides on our crops and growth inducing steroids on our cattle. Maybe then they can occupy their time better and stop prying into a world that has helped far more people than it has hurt. If you want to go after liver disease, I would think alcohol should be #1 on the Most Wanted list... not Tylenol. In fact, I bet if you looked up all persons hospitalized for liver failure with acetaminophen being the accomplice, chances are they took more than double the recommended dosage. Anybody who puts something in their body should know what the possible side effects are. If they don't, there is nobody to blame but themselves.

Decorated Dysmorphism

I've never been good at dealing with the mishaps of life... I always drowned them in a sea of alcohol and self-sedatives to distract myself away from the damages of disheartenment. I favored disillusionment. It's probably the most detrimental way of dealing with life that one can decide to delve upon. At times, you will find yourself depressed and ready to dive head first into an empty pool; The coldness of the concrete diverts the attention to the cause and soothes the soul. Disembodiment is a common fantasy... dreaming of the day that you will free your mind from the entrapment of disappointment that you've grown so accustomed to. Dissuading reality from truth is the directed endeavor of each passing day. Hide forever in the darkness and despair will merely pass you by; Poke your head out and venture once again down the intertwining roads of life, and soon you will find disgruntlement hunting you down like the wounded dog that you are. Rely not on desperation, for even desperate times will leave you defeated and drunk with disgust... It is the never-ending debt detainees of life pay to death.

We Talkin' 'bout Practice Man

With tonight’s NBA draft approaching by the minutes; I'm in the mood to talk some basketball. Growing up in the Greater Philadelphia area, I've been through my ups and downs as a Sixers fan. When I was a kid, I loved the Sixers when we had Charles Barkley running the court and throwing it down with authority. Then they traded him Phoenix, spurring a hatred for the Sixers, the Suns, and Sir Charles.

I was a child who took the moving of all-stars to heart. I was once an Eagles fan in the days of Randall Cunningham and Reggie White, until they were traded away by poor management for guys not fit to carry their predecessor’s jock strap. To this day, I hate the Philadelphia Eagles and I have moved on to brighter days as a Giants fan.

As a true to life fan of basketball, I could not continue hating the Sixers forever. I tried. Believe me. When they drafted Iverson, I was still a hater. I was a larger than life Bulls fan in the 90's... and not because I felt obliged to hop on the Michael-Scotty bandwagon. I had family in Chicago and throughout the time I spent out there I grew a fond love of all Chicago sports teams. Regardless, it took me until I got to see Iverson play in person before I grew appreciation for the little guy with the big heart.

The way Iverson laid it out there on the court like every game was his last impressed me in a way I had never realized before. Michael Jordan was my hero as a kid. He represented the guy who made himself great through hard work and dedication. When Jordan played, he played as if he was a superstar night in and night out. But when Iverson played, he played like he was never going to get another chance to step onto the court again. He played through every imaginable injury a player can deal with and he brushed off practice as if it just didn't matter.

“We talkin’ 'bout practice man.”

He had the mentality of a kid from the streets who was thankful for what he had but never knew how long it would last... how long he would last. It was a sad day when he demanded to be traded because of a coach who had no business being a head coach... especially after the trials and tribulations that transpired during Larry Brown's tenure as the Sixers coach. But Mo Cheeks was the last straw for Iverson and before you had the chance to speak about the situation, he was gone. Traded to a team where for the first time in his career he had to share the spotlight.

Monday morning quarterbacking will show you how that worked out as he was traded twice in 3 seasons to end up in a situation where he wasn't even getting the minutes or the starting rotation in a deep seeded Pistons lineup. Midway through the season, he called it a season because of back spasms. Never before had Iverson quit on his team because of an injury, but the team quit on him. Now, with the offseason in full tilt and blockbuster deals being made sending all-stars across the league, we sit and wonder what will be to come for Allen Iverson this season.

There's nothing I would like to see more than to see AI come back to Philly and put on the "new" retro jerseys and pick up where he left off, flying around the court like the mad dog he is. Ball games are not what they once were in the Wachovia center these days, and if they don't do something to get the fans back into it, it could end up becoming the next rendition of the dark ages for the Philadelphia 76ers basketball franchise.