Dear Kendrick Lamar (re: 'good kid, m.A.A.d city')

40s next to the baby bottle. It's no question where you are.

I've said it time and time again, but dey don't hurr me doe: The best hip-hop albums are portraits of the time, place, and mindset of the artist behind them. They draw from experiences seen and told to the artists, incorporate the sonic memory of what that artist is experiencing, and draw the listener into a world viewed through the artists' eyes.

Nature versus nurture; it's the oldest conflict in the book of human development and interaction. Is one a product of their environment, or do the sum of those products make the environment? After listening to your debut, Kendrick Lamar, I'm convinced there needs to be an urban studies symposium or class or certificate program regarding it. Holding true to its name 

good kid, m.A.A.d city

, is a portrait of the battle between nature and nurture: a black child whose inborn 'goodness' is chipped away at by his gritty urban surroundings.

The good kid you portray is clearly a smart one, as evidenced by his constant introspection. One of the first things I noticed in the story is the push and pull relationship that comes with groupthink. You muse, "Rush a nigga quick and then we laugh about it / That's ironic 'cause I never been violent, until I'm with the homies." Throughout GKMC, you grapple with your own decision-making because though you're capable of making informed decisions, frequently decisions are made for you. Whether out of circumstance, laziness, or influence of drugs or alcohol, you more often than not seemed to be carried away with a wave of bad intentions. Even in trying to develop a mature relationship with a young lady it is obvious your appetite for sex will ultimately trump your desire for emotional comfort and security:

A fatal attraction is common, and what we have common is pain / I mean you need to hear this / Love is not just a verb and I can see power steering / Sex drive when you swerve, I want that interference / It's coherent, I can hear it... mmhmm, that's your heartbeat / It either caught me or it called me, mmhmm

Kendrick, listening to GKMC is like watching Spider-Man fall victim to the Venom symbiote. You know that the anger that fuels the symbiote will make Spider-Man stronger, but that same symbiote will kill all pure ambitions within him. It's a tough album to critique with a moral compass because the listener can interpret your descent into that m.A.A.d city ambiguously.

Speaking of ambiguity, there's another prevalent theme in this album. While you grapple with acquiescing to your nature or nurture, the ever-reaching grey area between right and wrong rears its confusing head in almost every song on GKMC. You debate whether it is better to be predator or prey in such a vicious jungle, saying "Everybody gon' respect the shooter, but the one in front of the gun lives forever." Neither is an enviable position to be in, dying a hero or living as a villain. You recant on your past trespasses, too, wondering if your present good deeds and intelligence can erase that past on 'M.A.A.D. City':

If I told you I killed a nigga at 16, would you believe me? / Or see me to be innocent Kendrick that you seen in the street / With a basketball and some Now & Laters to eat / If I'm mentioned all of my skeletons, would you jump in the seat? / Would you say my intelligence now is great relief? And it's safe to say that our next generation maybe can sleep / With dreams of being a lawyer or doctor / Instead of boy with a chopper that hold the cul de sac hostage

That imagery is ridiculous, especially in light of the rash of violence in Chicago or the Trayvon Martin killing. No matter the littered past of a teenager, who is to say that the same teen couldn't end up curing the world of epilepsy or become President? Aspirations, regardless of how attainable, seem to all be misguided in your world though, Kendrick.

The title tracks of the album, expertly placed in the middle, give way to the vices in the second half of the album. 'Sing About Me, I'm Dying of Thirst' that shows the true ill of your story: thirst. Thirst for love, thirst for fulfillment, thirst for money, and thirst for direction lead you and your compatriots astray so many times, that the prayers of an old woman couldn't possibly sway you. You can't help but quench it in 'Swimming Pools', because the holy water the woman speaks of isn't feasible in the way you would want it to be. As a good kid in that environment, the visuals of drugs, sex, violence, and crime are much more influential than that of a God whose presence you can't see. The city pulls your gaze in so many directions that it's impossible to tell what deserves attention and what is real. 'Real' details that conflict, making light of the choir of voices begging for your ear:

But what love got to do with it when I don't love myself / To the point I should hate everything I do love / Should I hate living my life inside the club / Should I hate her for watching me for that reason / Should I hate him for telling me that I'm season / Should I hate them for telling me ball out / Should I hate street credibility I'm talkin' about / Hatin' all money, power, respect in my will / I'm hatin' the fact that none of that shit make me real

Fame is a bitter medicine by your tastes, Kendrick. As a good kid from a m.A.A.d city, you're happy to have gotten yourself away from the chaos of that city, yet clubs, credibility, influence and fame aren't necessarily the antithesis to your rough upbringing. They seem more like a different part of the city, rather than an entirely different city. Maybe that's the answer to the nature versus nurture question. You can take the good kid out of that m.A.A.d city, but it's impossible to take the memory of that m.A.A.d city out of the good kid.

No matter how far you get away from that city, Kendrick, its ills, its vices, and its pitfalls all served to make you the man you are today. You're not ashamed of your city. Kendrick Lamar is a product of Compton. It was so fitting to end the album with a track titled after your hometown, featuring Dr. Dre nonetheless. Just Blaze-produced, it was a horn-laced yet hard-bodied anthem showing the bravado of a bastion of West Coast hip-hop. Though you deride the bad, you know your city is full of good kids like yourself. You would rather show off your city for what it is, 'responsible for taking Compton International', than continue to languish in hatred for the madness that it engenders. It's like I said: your album is a portrait of Compton and your experiences in that city during your formative years. You rose above that m.A.A.d city to show that you can be a product

from

your environment without being a product

of

your environment.

Who Gives a (What) About NYC Rap?

An era that I'll always love, but NYC rap can't live on its history anymore. Hip-hop is global.

QUICK!!!! What’s the last classic rap album from an New York City rapper? Chances are, you couldn’t even name one. That’s because the last one came out in 2003. 50 Cent’s Get Rich or Die Tryin’, holds true to the formula that binds all classic rap albums. They are all snapshots of the time and locale at which they are recorded and released. Nas’ Illmatic does that for Queensbridge from 1992 to 1994, Biggie’s Ready to Die for Bed-Stuy in 1992 and Big L’s Lifestylez ov da Poor and Dangerous does that for Harlem in 1995.

Who gives a f*ck about NYC rap? That’s right... I said it. The New York City rappers who carry the torch at the moment suck. Most of them are older than 30, former gangsta rappers now flaunting their wealth while waxing philosophical about their decades-old exploits. Think about it. Biggie, Pun, Stack Bundles and Big L are dead. Jay-Z is worldwide, and could give a Memphis Bleek about Brooklyn aside from the Barclay’s Center. Fabolous? He’s on Love and Hip-Hop, not pushing work in the Brevoort Houses. The Diplomats? Jim Jones is right there with Fab, Cam’ron is somewhere trying to find another protege to screw, and Juelz can’t feel a beat, much less feel his face. 50 Cent tried becoming an actor, tried becoming Floyd Mayweather’s best friend, is supposedly a Street King, and has gone from the ‘Next Big Thing’ to a sideshow. The LOX are too busy rapping about the same thing they’ve been rapping about for the past 15 years. While something can be said for steadfastness by some of these guys, Lil Wayne’s insult to New York was spot on if you’re referring to rap. Seriously, who gives a flying shit about NYC rappers? None of those guys I mentioned are selling or making classics. Nas’ latest offering, while incredibly sound and one of the better rap albums in years, won’t be breaking Soundscan records, much less working its way into the iTunes of anyone younger than 18.

No, NYC rap is far beyond the flash and bang of yesteryear. It’s 2012. Rap has already transcended what it was originally intended to convey. Block parties have been replaced by full stadiums. Boom-bap instrumentals have given way to Fruity Loops, dubstep beats, and complex orchestral arrangements. ‘Struggle music,’ while endearing at the lower rungs of the rap game, has a hard time catching on once you’ve stopped being ‘the next big thing'. Guns, selling drugs, and the like aren’t the reality that hip-hop can display anymore, especially now that the genre extends WAY past inner-city streets. One read of Steve Stoute’s The Tanning of America was enough to know that rap’s growth makes it a much more inclusive genre, and New York City isn’t immune from that expansion.

New York is a ridiculous amalgamation of culture. That’s what makes it special. Rap was a portrait of one of those cultures, but as rap has grown, I don’t think New York’s lyricists necessarily grew at the same rate. That’s why most rap bores me nowadays. Most doesn’t veer from the tried and true, no matter how silly and repetitive it gets. I’m tired of NYC rappers who all try to harken back to the days of Biggie and evoke the spirit of Illmatic and Reasonable Doubt. It’s 2012. Those days are over. NYC rap has to evolve. It has to encompass not only the poverty that many of its denizens encounter, but also the different cultures that they experience.

Acts like Action Bronson, the A$AP Mob, Phony Ppl, the Flatbush Zombies, Das Racist, Mr. Muthafuckin exQuire, Danny Brown, Kid Daytona and Joey Bada$$, to name a few, all have the talent to break through. But it’s their handle on the ‘New’ New York that gives them a leg up as we enter this next decade of hip-hop lore. From 1979 to 1982, rap was confined to New York City, having no outside influences to draw from, no external critics to detract from its greatness, and no flag bearers other than what the city itself crowned. Through hip-hop’s global growth, NYC rap has become a genre within a genre, a microcosm of hip-hop as a whole, complete with a history and a historical sound. The city’s rap scene can’t get by on it’s history. There has to be progression, not only in the culture, but in the sound. No amount of boom-bap nostalgia can make up for ten years of inaction, and no NYC rapper can refute any of these statements, no matter how much money or ‘acclaim’ they’ve acquired.

Obama-Romney is the new Kennedy-Nixon

The American political headlights are fixed on the Presidential debates. October 3rd, 16th and 22nd mark the candidates’ final opportunities to influence the mercurial American electorate. Polls give neither candidate significant advantage. It makes sense to look to history as a barometer of the outcome. Only one election comes close to Obama-Romney in terms of precursors, divisions, and implications: 1960’s Kennedy-Nixon election.

Even with a 42-year time difference, the analogies between the elections are uncanny. Both come on the heels of economic downturns featuring long-fought wars as backdrops. The key similarity, though, is the clash of cultures that the candidates from both elections depict. Romney and Nixon are two older liberal-leaning Republicans with shakily wavering stances. Both considered awkward and disingenuous unless calculated, they draw support from a fervent, ideologically-rigid base. On the other hand, the younger Kennedy and Obama appeal to the progressive-minded and minorities, are gifted orators, air toward populism, and are the ‘rock stars’ of their respective campaigns.

Implication-wise, both elections are at historic social junctures in America. 1960 came at the precipice of counterculture becoming mainstream, while 2012 underscores a divisive tension between the rich and poor. 2012’s debates will undoubtedly be the fulcrum of the election. Americans will see Romney, like Nixon, in the wild, and Barack Obama, like Kennedy, taking on a fierce ideological adversary. If history holds true, Obama’s calm, Kennedy-like demeanor should outshine Romney’s shifty, deliberate Nixon-esque approach. Though the times, they continue a’changin’, 2012’s significance emulates that of 1960 effortlessly.

On Dwight Howard, Leverage, and Oversized Egos

Quick! Name the 5 biggest superstars in the NBA right now. My guess is most people shouted LeBron, Kobe, Kevin Durant, D-Wade, and one out of Dirk, Carmelo, Tim Duncan, Chris Paul or some other max-contract player. Dwight Howard shouldn't be anywhere near the top. There's nothing game-changing, enigmatic, or incredible about him or his game, to me at least. DH12 aka Superman.

Bizarro has been deemed the best at a position that has three or four other legitimate candidates, which is absurd! One look at Howard's statistics shows how little he contributes exceptionally other than shot-blocking and rebounding. Have a look at a comparison of these three big mens' stats:

Big Man A:

 26.0 PPG - 13.3 RPG - 2.0 APG - 0.9 SPG - 0.5 BPG - 45% FG - 82% FT - 2.3 TO

Big Man B:

 20.6 PPG - 14.5 RPG - 1.9 APG - 1.5 SPG - 2.1 BPG - 57% FG - 49% FT - 3.2 TO

Big Man C:

 18.1 PPG - 11.0 RPG - 1.6 APG - 1.5 SPG - 1.2 BPG - 45% FG - 70% FT - 2.7 TO

Big Man C will surprise you, being DeMarcus Cousins of the Sacramento Kings. Big Man A, with his great PPG average and comparable rebounding is my favorite big man, Kevin Love. Big Man B is the underwhelming Dwight Howard. Age is what makes these stats so shocking. Dwight Howard is 26, having played eight seasons, mostly under the tutelage of Stan van Gundy. Love is 23 with four seasons under his belt. DeMarcus Cousins will start his third season next year, at the ripe age of 21. That the stats of the three are comparable is laughable on Howard's part. For someone who dubbed himself Superman, he shows none of the finesse, skill, or poise that the original, Shaquille O'Neal, possessed at his age. Howard's one NBA Finals appearance, mostly a result of great shooting from Hedo Turkoglu, a sad Cavaliers opponent in the East Finals, and a vacuum at the bottom of the Eastern Conference, showed Howard languishing with 15.4 PPG. Your 'franchise center' shouldn't be the third option on the team in big games, and too many times Howard disappears during crunch time.

The reason I bring up Howard's middling performance is for a discussion on leverage. Howard earned his leverage mostly by winning a Slam Dunk contest, which if it was the barometer for NBA success, would have players like Fred Jones, Demond Mason, Harold Miner, and Nate Robinson earning max contracts. His unnecessarily brash chokehold on the Magic franchise is detestable, mainly because the fact that he can't be moved is his own fault. Howard defied normal, traditional, and pragmatic logic by signing a one-year extension to stay in Orlando, after a year of trade rumors, throwing team members under the bus, and inconsistent play. Had he not signed the extension, he would have been a free agent on July 1st, able to sign with whichever team was dumb enough to drop $100 million on him, most likely the New Jersey/Brooklyn Nets. Why he didn't just stay pat and wait is beyond me. If anything, he lost leverage because the extension he signed made him less attractive in terms of trade value. No team wants a player that doesn't want to play for them, and is constantly auditioning for their next contract, much less one that can only rebound, block shots, and dunk.

Now, if rebounding, shot-blocking, and the occasional highlight play are considered leverage to Dwight, then what does that say about him? All I can point to is an oversized ego. Howard has yet to improve his game to the 'superstar' level most people peg him at. With Patrick Ewing on his bench for every year of his career, he hasn't developed as much as an inkling of elite footwork, a jump shot, or consistent post-up game. How is it possible that he didn't pick up anything from one of the most skilled big men of all time? Howard is useless outside of the paint area. Add to that his abysmal free throw percentage, and you have a $20 million per year dud. Not once have I seen Bizarro dominate a game offensively. Never has he demanded the ball in the paint. He is just a physical freak, always surrounded by shooters, allowed to roam the paint mindlessly in search of putback dunks and easy buckets inside ten feet of the bucket. 

Ego is the reason for it. Howard saunters about the court and sidelines like a player who has mastered his craft, which couldn't be further from the truth. Had he any ounce of modesty or humility, Dwight would be embarrassed with how bad of an offensive player he is in lieu of his physical gifts. 

That he's gotten this amount of leverage with such a limited skill set is a miracle. Yet even with all of the leverage Howard has, he most likely won't end up in Brooklyn because of his debilitating salary and the fact that the Magic aren't dumb enough to trade him for peppercorns. One thing that usually comes standard with an oversized ego is a big mouth, which DH12 is known for. If it's not situations like the above infamous press conference with Stan van Gundy, it's his penchant for changing his mind more than a preteen girl with a walk-in closet. It's as if he's trying to make himself hard to deal with. If I'm an NBA general manager, I'd have to ask myself whether his spotty play and toxic attitude are even worth the 20 points, 15 rebounds, 2 steals, and 2 blocks he provides. 

Don't get me wrong... the guy's got otherworldly athleticism and potential (whatever 'potential' means these days). But for all of the trouble, you could find two or three players that do all that with fewer headaches. For all Dwight brings to the table, haven't his weaknesses, ego, and push for leverage taken that much more off the table? It's like having a delicious steak dinner, but no table, plates or silverware to eat it with. Howard is, quite honestly, the NBA's most flawed player. He needs a serious reality check, and a new nickname to clear his name in my book.

On Frank Ocean, and Why 'Gay' Shouldn't Even Matter Anymore

I know I wasn't the only near-sighted person to almost have a seizure trying to read this.

BBQ's aren't my really forte. You can invite me to a barbecue, though. I might go. But most likely I'll think about going, and either go hang out with my closest friends or bury myself in books and reruns of Chopped. It's not that I don't enjoy the prospect of grilling food with family, friends, and an assortment of complete strangers. It's that small talk gets boring. 'Where are you working?' 'How's your mom?' 'Are you going back to school?' 'How about those Yankees?' 'You see what Mitt Romney did last week?' 'What was Evelyn thinking on last week's episode?' There are always some topics that get breached constantly in loose small talk.

This Independence Day, among the hordes of hamburger-fancying twenty-somethings, the subject at hand was Frank Ocean's heartfelt message to accompany his upcoming album Channel Orange. There were toasts to Frank's liberation, to his prowess as an artist, and to the open-mindedness of Odd Future for accepting his status. Frank Ocean was the man of the hour everywhere without being anywhere.

For a loose interpreter wary of Frank's (in addition to OF as a whole) knack for picking archaic language and rosy prose over strict meaning, such as myself, I found everyone taking Frank's letter as a coming out with mixed feelings. Nowhere in the letter did the OF crooner say the word gay, bisexual, or anything related to sexual orientation. He just said he loved a man. I think in this day and age, no thanks to Anderson Cooper, everyone is jumping to find a revolutionary idol of sorts: someone who, for them, can represent everything positive about a marginalized group and serve of a bastion of the group's accomplishment within the greater majority. The letter gave hope and shouting rights to fighters of sexual liberty. That it happened on Independence Day only served to amplify the fact that a post-sexual society is on the horizon, but not here yet.

One of the things I ponder a lot is whether we're even really in a post-racial society. Yeah, my President is black and my Lambo is blue. But since the man's taken office, there's been more working against him than for him. Birthers, Tea Partiers, Mitt Romney, and Bible Belters will say that nothing about their hatred for Barry O has to do with race, but the undercurrent is too great to ignore. I think as long as the construct of race still exists in that it can be used as a basis for anything other than physical identification, we're not in a post-racial society. In the same way, as long as society keeps mentioning 'gay' or 'straight' or 'bisexual' or 'bath salt users' as a delineation, instead of a trait of the greater person, we're not past sexual preference as an issue.

It's like the old saying, 'It's not what they call you, it's what you answer to.' Frank Ocean's sexuality shouldn't even be an issue. If there wasn't a name for a sexual preference or any stigma attached to it, would it be an issue? In this day and age, where flashes in the pan are the norm, it suffices to say that there'll be another celebrity to come out of the closet and everyone will laud their bravery at barbecues and in between meetings and at happy hours. It will become the small talk of that week, and that person's status will be debated hotly because sexual preference still is a taboo topic. Not in a post-sexual society.

In this post-sexual society I imagine, your spouse will be your spouse, male or female. People won't shudder at two fathers, and there won't be a 'down low'. The words 'transgender' and 'transexual' won't mean anything anymore. Two women utilizing in vitro fertilization will be widely accepted. Post-sexual society will affect more than sexual preference, too. No one will give a damn about abortions, or womb rights, or being pro-life or pro-choice. Just like the M and F you cross out on forms, anything related to sex will become an afterthought. If we don't even mention it, it will cease to be important. It might even become one of those 'don't touch' topics like politics or religion that polite, civilized people scoff at in public (that's another post in and of itself) and hold strong opinions about behind closed doors. Who knows? The only sure thing is that Frank Ocean loved a man. Any person with a father, brother, uncle, cousin, mentor, or friend can say the same. I think that's the first step to sexuality not mattering: letting love be, regardless of who or what the target is. Lord knows we loved Frank Ocean's music before.

Dear Readers

Replace the pencil with my computer, and you have my mind state for the past six months...

Fancy being back, isn't it? The last post published on Dear Whoever was almost six months ago. Since then, a lot of things have changed in my life, some for the better and some for the worse. Regardless, this blog was one of the things that had to suffer. Between job searching, starting projects, ending projects, reviving some relationships and ending others, existential crises, and reading obsessively, I somehow lost that fire to write everyday. It's a sad feeling. People ask you about your blog, and you have to come up with some half-assed answer or tell them you've got 'something in the works' (I actually do have something in the works, but that's another post). You try to lift the pen or type a few words, and everything sounds stupid. You wonder why you even started writing the blog in the first place.

Something changed to make me take this hiatus. I can't quite put my finger on what it was, but recently some small part of me said 'Ev, quit grab-assing and just write whatever your feel like'. I'd realized that the problem wasn't that my writing bug had gone, but that I was trying. Dear Whoever started out as a collection of rants about music, sports, sneaker culture, technology, politics, and whatever else I felt necessary. As the site grew, I found myself adhering to too stringent of a formula for posts. It started to get mechanical. After a while I had trouble coming up with content, because the letter format only lends itself to certain kinds of writing. You can't write a letter for everything, especially analytical letters with the intention of entertaining and informing. To borrow the words of one of my best friends, I turned into a professional hater, rather than an honest critic. My writing suffered because it was stifled and overly angry.

So here we are, readers. Dear Whoever is still alive, albeit a few changes. First, I'm going to be writing less letters. The Dear Whoever moniker will stay, but there'll be a lot more articles/essays/whatever-you-wanna-call-ems. Like I said, the letter format was constricting. Secondly, I won't post every day like when I started. The pressure to throw something up can kill your creativity and make my passion of writing seem too much like a job. Why post something if you know it isn't your best work? Why turn something you love into a chore? If it's no fun or uninteresting for me to write, I can only imagine how much it could've sucked to read.

If there's one thing I hope you have or will learn about me through my writing, it's that I'm a person who thrives when he loves what he's doing. I think that's what threw me off my game more than anything: the love was missing. Whether it took a six-month sabbatical, or I had some growing to do before I could love my writing again is a mystery to me. Either way, it feels good to hit that 'Publish' button again. The circumstances that brought me to this point were no coincidence, and I thank God for bringing me back full circle. That said, readers, I pray you'll support Dear Whoever like you did for the past three years. Aside from writing as an outlet, I write for my words to be read. If this is your first time reading, enjoy. If you're a longtime reader, welcome back. I do this for y'all! It's gonna be a hot summer! You know what it is! ... never mind. Let's get back to the writing...

Dear Congress (re: SOPA & PIPA)

For the past two years, you Congress, our legislative body has been embroiled in a myriad of conflicts. From immigration, taxation, education, health care, Barack Obama's birth certificate, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Libya, bin Laden allllll the way down to Barry Bonds lying in court, you have ran the gamut of brutal contention. It seems like every issue on the table is a bitter dispute between the Democrats and Republicans. Are you going to play laissez faire or overregulate? Are you going to kick the can down the road, or simply handle your business now. Are you going to act on principle, logic, and virtue or act like politicians and reneg on your promises start your re-election bid the day after Election Day spend most of your time doing meaningless bidding? You've done nothing but the latter, Congress... Which is why your ever-so-consistent stance on the Internet-killing SOPA and PIPA bills is so confounding for me.

For all of the hoopla last year regarding the debt ceiling, Occupy Wall Street, class warfare and all of those ideologically-rooted political impasses, you would think that something so universal as the Internet wouldn't be privy to your spastic rulings, Congress. When did you all come to such a consensus? What happened to the deep-seeded resentments that keep you all on different ideological planets?

I think I know: lobbyists. If one looks at the supporters of SOPA and PIPA, it's a pretty high-profile list of offenders. The major networks, the RIAA, the MPAA and any organization associated with bringing owners (not producers) of content together, are all united in their big-wig support of SOPA and PIPA. That said, it's easy to see why. They're stuck in 2001, Congress!!! Remember that period when downloading music on Napster or Limewire or Bearshare was a Cardinal Sin? I do. I remember when the music companies shuffled their feet at getting into the online sector because they thought the craze wouldn't last. Fast forward 10 years, and it's happening again: media companies stuck in antiquated ways trying to quell the burning bastion of freedom that is the Internet. And you're aiding them, Congress.

You'd rather stifle than uplift. You'd rather be stringent about 'rules' than look at the meaning behind them, and their ramifications. You'd rather cut the cord than figure out how to make a better one. How lazy is that, Congress? Consider this. If you were to pass the two bills your Internet would:

- be 10x slower depending on what service you had and what sites you're visiting
- be dominated by Facebook, NBC, CBS, ABC, Facebook, FOX, Facebook, and Facebook
- have about tenfold LESS sites
- be unable to stream movies, videos, or music unless expressly consented to by the controlling media conglomerate

In short form, the Internet would be zapped back to 1995, Congress. A few big companies would run everything and the whole idea of 'free market economics' would be null. We might as well have AOL Version 1.0 floppy disks again. If you didn't have the money to fight a SOPA or PIPA claim, your site would be off the 'net before you even knew it!

Congress, by passing these bills, you are essentially giving yourselves free reign to dictate what shouldn't be dictated. You are killing Internet innovation at the root by making it a criminal offense to do anything that remotely infringes on any sort of intellectual property. No idea is original, Congress. Lest I get into the finer aspects of intellectual property, I would say that protecting someone's work is NOT wrong. For every word that I've written on this website to be lifted and purported as someone else's would be unforgivable. At the same time, you have no right to say where personal liberty ends and protecting against piracy begins, especially when you've balked at regulating things that matter, like say, big banks, the military-industrial complex, health insurance companies, or oil conglomerates?

It's as if you want the stop the conversation, Congress. That's not democracy. For all of the talk of corporate personhood and money in politics, this is a shining example. Why listen to the people, when you can line your pockets with money from companies who'd rather protect old ways than innovate new ones? That's what politics is about nowadays, isn't it? SOPA and PIPA are just pixels in the greater picture of your failures as of late. If this is too harsh, then good. Censor me. Stifle free speech and free movement of information, so the whole world can see what 'democracy' is all about. I guarantee you'll be doing more harm than any debt crisis, terrorist threat, or education bubble will.

Dear NBA Superstars

What max contracts?

Can you feel it in the air? Can you? It's almost here. Two weeks from now, NBA junkies like myself will finally get their fix. The player's union finally figured out that any games are better than no games, while the owners jumped off their high horses and compromised. Training camps begin in a week or so, but free agency is the talk of the town. Of all Chris Broussard's 'sources', the rumor that Chris Paul wants to join the Lakers is a fun, but sad one. That said, NBA superstars, I implore you to stay where you are!

In 2008, the Boston Celtics shook the SportsCenter-addicted masses when they crafted the inaugural 'Big 3' on draft night. Fast forward to 2011, and the concept of the Big 3 has been played out more than slow-mo club scenes in rap videos. Shout out to LeBron and Chris Bosh for making the idea a mainstay, but with all due respect, NBA superstars, the constant need for 3 superstars to band together is an inefficient, lame cop-out for franchises who don't know how to build teams. Look no further than my own hometown Knicks. Before the Carmelo Anthony trade, we had a legitimate squad from 1 through 9. Wilson Chandler, Danilo Gallinari and Raymond Felton were perfect pieces for a deep Playoff run. Instead we have a decimated roster full of scrubs like Jared Jeffries and Ronny Turiaf... But wait... We have Carmelo and A'Mare!!! That's still not enough.

NBA superstars, look at the 2011 Dallas Mavericks for the blueprint on how to build a team sans mortgaging your. Dirk Nowitzki was maligned, ridiculed, and castigated for his lack of resolve during the Playoffs, yet on the big stage this year, was surrounded by a cast of role players that was unbreakable. If it wasn't Jason Terry hitting a record number of three-pointers, it was Tyson Chandler (happy trails) providing a resolute defensive presence in the paint, or Shawn Marion being the glue guy with rebounds and floor placement, or Jason Kidd playing the consumate veteran role and giving the Mavericks a second voice of leadership. The Mavericks beat everyone's new favorite team with one superstar and a perfect team built to debunk the new trend. Defense, chemistry and basketball IQ trumped athleticism, potential and hype. They proved that you don't need to buy out the bar to still have a good night.

This is to you Chris Paul and Dwight Howard. This letter is in response to the teams that will bluff a trio of 15 point scorers for one 28 point scorer. This is for GM's like Mitch Kupchak, Pat Riley and the like who have no imagination and less patience. This is for bandwagon fans who gravitate to whichever team has more stars. This is for Chris Broussard and his unreliable 'sources' on every movement in the NBA. But most of all, this is for the NBA. NBA superstars, you've forgotten what it means to stand on your own two. You'd rather team up with your friends than compete against them. Larry Bird and Magic Johnson were friends off the court, but bitter enemies from wire to wire. The same can be said of any of Jordan's compatriots.

That's not to say that this era of the NBA should be one of big stars in small markets. I can understand how disconcerting playing for a bad team as a good player is. Even so, rather than use your celebrity to request a trade, why not try to bring in players you know will mesh with you. LeBron and Wade were doomed because they essentially play the same position and had no one to fill in, not because of defense or any completely objective criteria. As a student of basketball, I recognize that in this talent-filled era of the NBA, winning with no help is impossible. However, that the prospect of building a team has gone out the window is sad. You all should be looking to carry the load instead of teaming up to lessen it. If I'm wrong, then why is the season starting on Christmas, instead of a month and a half ago?

On Condescension, Prognostication & The Educational Gap

via Forbes.com:

He’s right. The spread between rich and poor has gotten wider over the decades. And the opportunities for the 99% have become harder to realize.

The President’s speech got me thinking. My kids are no smarter than similar kids their age from the inner city. My kids have it much easier than their counterparts from West Philadelphia. The world is not fair to those kids mainly because they had the misfortune of being born two miles away into a more difficult part of the world and with a skin color that makes realizing the opportunities that the President spoke about that much harder. This is a fact. In 2011.

I am not a poor black kid. I am a middle aged white guy who comes from a middle class white background. So life was easier for me. But that doesn’t mean that the prospects are impossible for those kids from the inner city. It doesn’t mean that there are no opportunities for them. Or that the 1% control the world and the rest of us have to fight over the scraps left behind. I don’t believe that. I believe that everyone in this country has a chance to succeed. Still. In 2011. Even a poor black kid in West Philadelphia.

*gets in time machine and goes back to 2008*

Oh, snap!!! Obama's the President of the United States!! You know what that means! We live in a post-racial society! Race doesn't exist anymore. A charismatic, smart, half-Kenyan man from Hawaii can ascend to the top of the political world, so that means that every minority should be able to do comparably!

*gets back in time machine and goes to present-day*

Oh, wait... Educational gaps are still tremendous. Poverty is still rampant. Employment is sparse. But Obama's President, so none of that matters.

Such is the society we live in today... A society where the haves continually look down on the have-nots... A society where even in the face of mounting evidence that the system is no more fairly skewed that the lottery, people continue to cry 'self-determination'... A society where a man with admittedly no knowledge of growing up poor feels compelled to cast judgment on the poor. While I am no urban sociologist, I've seen enough of the ills of urban sprawl to know that the odds do not favor children in the inner city. From dilapidated and underfunded schools, to a lack of a successful network supporting them, is it really that hard to see why poor black children gravitate towards endeavors far-removed from academia?

The author, a 'mediocre accountant' and owner of a 10-person accounting firm, is engaging in what I like to call condescendent prognostication - the use of one's lofty ideals to scrutinize the actions of and portend the paths of those in a more precarious situation than he. He claims to be a supporter of Obama and the 99%, but is essentially echoing the unfounded sentiments of the 1%, namely:
- If you're poor, underprivileged, or the like, it's your fault
- The government and related entities have no responsibility to help those who can't help themselves
- There are more than enough resources to help the underprivileged

The author gets even more haughty in his rhetoric:

President Obama was right in his speech last week. The division between rich and poor is a national problem. But the biggest challenge we face isn’t inequality. It’s ignorance. So many kids from West Philadelphia don’t even know these opportunities exist for them. Many come from single-parent families whose mom or dad (or in many cases their grand mom) is working two jobs to survive and are just (understandably) too plain tired to do anything else in the few short hours they’re home. Many have teachers who are overburdened and too stressed to find the time to help every kid that needs it. Many of these kids don’t have the brains to figure this out themselves – like my kids. Except that my kids are just lucky enough to have parents and a well-funded school system around to push them in the right direction.

Technology can help these kids. But only if the kids want to be helped. Yes, there is much inequality. But the opportunity is still there in this country for those that are smart enough to go for it.

This type of grandstanding is only upended by the fact that the author says himself that his children have the resources (parents and good schools) to properly advance. When did complete hypocrisy and sociological blinders replace the social contract of Roosevelt's New Deal? When did the American tenet of every citizen's unalienable rights to 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness' fall victim to 'you're on your own social policy'? The problem here isn't the author's proclamation that the will to succeed doesn't go unnoticed. It's that he fails to fully acknowledge the crumbling systems around the same 'poor black kids'. Rather than addressing the systematic failures, he asserts that these children should aspire to be the best of the worst. How is that remotely inspiring? Even if an poor black kid in West Philadelphia does gain straight A's in a terrible school, chances are he will still be drastically behind his affluent counterparts across town.

The educational gap in this country is beyond detestable, not because kids don't want to learn, but because most people removed from the worst education systems in our country have little stake in it. They can point the finger and be condescending because they admittedly have never lived in conditions anywhere close to the ones they criticize. It's like a king pointing down at peasants, scoffing at the squalor they live in: easy. I beg the question to Mr. Marks and any other critic of 'poor black kids', what would you do to improve these schools, aside from claim that the kids need to try harder? What solution do you have for the dwindling quality of teachers, curricula, infrastructure and resources? What answer do you have for the student who have no clue what Google Scholar, SparkNotes, Evernote or the CIA World Factbook are? My guess is none.

That is the plight of the condescending prognosticator. They scream that if you're not winning the race, then you should run harder instead of blaming the busted soles on your sneakers. Maybe I'm rambling. Maybe undue outrage is coming towards the author for his clearly misinformed stance. The one thing I'm certain of is that there are many more Gene Marks' out there. They live anywhere from quiet, isolated suburban neighborhoods to high rise penthouses believe that self-determination is all one needs to be successful. For the amount of technological resources they espouse can help 'poor black kids', it would behoove them to use these same tools to see that the world isn't as cut and dry as they think.

Dear Drake (re: Take Care)

The Midas touch?? Ehh... Debatable.

The truth is such a paradoxical concept. They say the truth sets you free, yet the truth hurts. Half a truth makes a great lie, but when you find the truth, it's more that you've found a truth. Truth is sought by the masses but attained by the few. Truth makes for great art, but only when placed in a palatable medium. Such is your issue, Drake. Your truth is a complete paradox. It has certain aspects that everyone can relate to, but make people (especially men) so uncomfortable, that they can't accept it. While you make music that embraces the whole gamut of male emotion, you are so unabashed in your portrayal during Take Care that it is impossible for the average man to listen without casting improper libel on your name, Drizzy.

Sidenote: I'm tired of people labeling any type of defamation via social media 'slander'. For you non-lexical thinkers, the proper term is libel, or defamation by written or printed words. Slander is the same, but spoken. I know it's splitting hairs, but with the way writing is going down the pooper, I had to make the disambiguation.

Take Care was named so because you supposedly rushed the production of Thank Me Later and wanted to take your time while putting your sophomore project out. Production-wise, this is a masterful album. It does not have the beautifully eclectic sound that Kanye's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy has, but centers on the sonically dark, sensuous sound that marked Thank Me Later. It is obvious that you were heavy handed in your production, taking care to make this your album again.

Content-wise, the truth you convey is anything but careful. From your verses to your features, the honesty of how (excuse my French) fucked up the industry makes the artist, is evident. Kendrick Lamar says it best when he muses about the penchant for music to beget sex:

Live the ambiance all cause the audience / One day said I would do it / So instead of a verse being read / Ima go ‘n get some head off the strength of my music

The themes of love lost and the downfall to fame are exceptionally reckless, almost reminiscent of a melancholy teenage love affair. No stone is left uncast (not a word, but it sounded hot) when dealing with the hurt of being broken hearted, whether by one's own doing or by the ills of another. It is this truth, that love does indeed hurt, that makes Take Care so off-putting to the host of caveman-esque listeners saying you're as soft as terry cloth, Drake.

Songs like 'Marvin's Room/Buried Alive' only serve to add flames to the firestorm of softness allegations, yet the candidness afforded is undeniable. What stone-hearted ogre can truly say that they've never been hurt? How is reveling and thriving in light of hatred pointed towards one's art considered 'soft'? Drake, your truth is one that is seldom seen, yet needed in this day and age. 'Lord Knows' is a positive example of this truth. For all of the flak aimed at your neck, you've got Teflon both metaphorically and on the track with Ross as you deflect criticism about your place in hip-hop history:

They take the greats from the past and compare us / I wonder if they'd ever survive in this era / In a time where it's recreation / To pull all your skeletons out the closet like Halloween decorations

It used to be a case where a rapper's dirty laundry was only aired out on wax. Now that MTO and TMZ and Necole Bitchie and whatever other gossip sites there are lend themselves to that end, that line is extremely powerful, even though it will fly over the heads of most in terms of gravity.

I have to say, Drake, that listening to Comeback Season before So Far Gone before Thank Me Later before Take Care was a HUGE mistake. The change in your style is almost ridiculous. From the rapper who idolized Phonte to the syrup-sipping YMCMB harpy, it's a bittersweet transition. Did you have to lose the socially awkward, prodigally-talented ideal that marked your earlier works in the pursuit of fame? I suppose you comment on that phenomenon on 'Underground Kings':

Live a little, cause niggas die a lot, and lie a lot / But I'm the truth -- that's right, I fucking said it / The living proof that you don't gotta die to get to heaven

Is that really the truth, Drake? Is that really your truth? I'm not sure which truth to believe from you, Drake; the tortured musician or the ballin' outta control rapper. It seems as if the latter is prevalent during this album, as with the last.

The downside to truth is that not everyone's truth is palatable to a wider audience. Drake, as much as I appreciate you discussing the plight of heartbreak, you need some other kinds of truth... Seriously. Big Ghostfase allusions aside, this album explored a whole new frontier of emotion. I wasn't ready for such a sultry ambience while listening. It honestly had me at a loss for words, especially when 'Doing it Wrong' came on. Of the 18 tracks on Take Care at least half dealt with women in some way. Really, Drake? I know they say that women drive the majority of record sales, but that doesn't mean the truth you convey should be entirely centered around the fairer sex. Jay-Z would be disappointed, as his chorus on '99 Problems' claims. 'The Real Her', was more of the same, oozing with heartbreak from the soul of a tortured musician. Yes, it's relatable, but only for a while. (see my post on Joe Budden's woman troubles) After essentially visiting the same theme on Thank Me Later, you would think you'd stop hitting industry parties and strip clubs looking for your Cinderella, Drake. Come on, son... The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results. There's got to be a new impetus for your next musical work, or I won't be able to stomach it again.

I had to wonder why your album started to sound like a wasteful-spending broken-hearted, broken record halfway through, and I could think of one reason: Weezy F. Baby. The Clown Prince of Syrup-Influenced Music has infiltrated what little integrity the music industry leaves in most artists and destroyed it, Drake. The result of this unholy union is a track like 'Practice'. Drake, I may be classified among the rank-and-file of so-called haters, but this has to be one of the most God-awful pieces of music I've ever had the displeasure of blasting through my speakers. Never mind that you tried to turn a twerking anthem into an R&B song, or that Wayne must be paying a grills-worth in royalties to Juvenile, or that an appearance from The Lonely Island is the only thing separating this song from being a parody. This was the equivalent of sticking scalding butter knives in my ears, Drake. Hearkening back to my theme of truth, someone in that studio needed to tell you the truth about that song. Lack of truth is the reason Eminem's recent work sounds like a watered-down cocktail and why heads will never be able to accept that death in hip-hop doesn't equal martyrdom. Your sophomore offering shouldn't have suffered from the truth being withheld in your recording process. It's clear that while this album was inherently yours, there was a lot more Young Money in your Kool-Aid than most listeners would be lead to believe.

Drake, I'm conflicted in writing this letter. While I commend another good listen, with more shades of emotion being exposed for a mostly emotionless listener-base, I can't condone a lot of the songs, content and decisions made concerning Take Care. It's almost as if you don't believe a lot of the truth you're conveying. You can deflect the and hate welcome the praise, but you can't even begin to describe what got you there. You may be able to wax philosophical about the ills of trying to find love, but you probably will never get any closer to finding it. You may be a 'king' in your own mind, but are one sitting on a throne in jeopardy, mostly of your own doing. The bane of truth is not only being able to convey it, but also being able to use it to grow. I think what concerns me the most about Take Care is the lack of growth. It's as if this album had a confused take on the same truth from Thank Me Later, resulting in a melancholy, teenage hormone-laced version of what should have been the album. That's the truth; the careful, unabashed truth. You need a reality check, not only to stop you from bigging up your gun-toting henchmen, but also from letting the pain of girl problems completely stain your work. It will make for a more widely-accepted and enlightening truth on your part.

Dear Occupy Wall Street

Ohhhhhh, so that's what it's about? Show that to every conservative and 1-percenter on the radar...

The Internet has a way of aggrandizing things so that you think a lot more of them than they really are. Sometimes you have to see something for yourself to get a good idea of what the point is. I could go on an on with euphemisms to segue into what I want to say here, but Occupy Wall Street, upon my 2nd visit to your site, it's a miracle I didn't see your mission at first.

The American political/economic/social malady has never been a secret to me. One look at half of the political posts on this blog, and a reader knows that there is something seriously wrong with the direction our country is going in. Occupy Wall Street, you are a result of that, not because you are doing your job to a tee, but because you are giving something to talk about. That's not a bad thing, but it has the potential to be turned against you, because of how overarching your goal is.

To draw attention to the vast inequality, rampant injustices and ridiculous faults of our system is your goal, OWS. Being down at Zucotti Park gave me that perspective, but Middle America won't see it the same way. Violence, anger, misdirected and misinformed protests and general hoopla (have always wanted to use that word in a sentence) are what will draw their attention, and not the actual issues at hand. For two weeks, your movement was seen as a fringe movement. Add some high-profile appearances like Kanye West, Talib Kweli, and Russell Simmonds, and you've got the press' ears. Add some heated standoffs and violent shows from police to your pot of brew, and NOW you've got the rest of the world watching. Why is that? Why are you relegated into the realm of 'noise' until something bad happens? Is that what America is really about? Is your plight just background noise, destined to be talked about for a few more weeks until they 'deal' with you?

Look at even the way politicians have reacted to you. The right wings say your a bunch of dirty hippies, underachieving liberal arts students and homeless gathered over nothing, even though the Tea Party makes WAY less sense. The left wing, even though they lay in the same bed of lobbyist and corporate money, has latched on to you, hoping they can ride a populist, working class wave all the way to victory in 2012. At this point, you're nothing more than a prop, OWS. While you may be formless, leaderless and all-encompassing, you're going to have to soon adopt a serious stance so that you can't be boxed in. It's even ironic that your lack of parameters has resulted in parameters placed around you by the media and politicians.

OWS, I started out in support of you, became disillusioned with my first visit, got back some zeal in the second and am somewhat wishy-washy about you now. It's not because I don't agree with your goals, or that I've given up hope that some sort of rational discussion about our country's system can come together. It's because your own nature makes you impossible to follow. Idealistic, Utopian or what have you, it has to end somewhere, and you don't even know where that is. Yes, protests have been popping up in other locales, but to what end? Don't sit there and tell me about the 'revolution'. I've listened to more Gil Scott-Heron than you know, and the revolution damn sure won't be televised, much less tweeted, Facebooked, Tumblr'ed. But how do we draw the line between sensationalism and actual constructive movement?

OWS, that is your struggle: to find legitimacy without the controversy that litters most politics, to bring attention to something that should have been attended to years ago. Our society is one that emphasizes the frivolous and fleeting for the important. It's like you couldn't have been a better movement for a worse time, OWS. The country needs the discourse you bring. Though I'm not convinced most Americans will be able to see through the noise to the actual problems that plague their nation, I think enough will pay attention to that something gets done... Maybe not a 'revolution', but something. I suppose the same lack of clarity in goals that you began with has to bear on the lack of clarity in an end. We all have to start somewhere...

Dear J. Cole (re: Cole World)

I was beginning to think you were going to be relegated to the fate of Dr. Dre and the artist formerly known as Young Jeezy, Jermaine. No, seriously... It has been a long time coming, but finally, the kid from Fayettenam who came to the city of New York with his beat machine and a matriculation to St. John's has released his oft-delayed debut, Cole World: The Sideline Story. I'll admit, Jermaine. I was a bit reticent to give this a listen. As of late, I'd gotten disillusioned again with the direction rap was taking; valuing names and sensation over actual skills, placing novelty over quality, and deeming anything with two decent songs a 'classic'. And in your case, I'd grown bored of your 'struggle raps'. Yet, to veer from what makes you great rapper would be stupid. I eat my words at what was a precursor to a seemingly illustrious career ahead of you.

To accurately touch on Cole World, though, I have to hearken back to a line from 'Friday Night Lights' that describes your position at the moment:

To the college kids no scholarships starting your semester / unpacking your suitcases filling up your dresser / enjoy it while you got it, after that it’s God bless ya / life is your professor, you know that b*tch is gon test ya

That line exemplifies your music, Jermaine; the hardships of transitioning into true maturity. Cole, to be honest, I feel like I've become an adult listening to you over the past two years. Your music has been the soundtrack to the strife that a college student goes through, not only before, but after graduation. Embarking on my own life's journey, it's hard not to embrace your genre of 'struggle music'. If the three mixtapes were college, Cole World is definitely the culmination of an undergraduate tenure and the start of a promising life and career. As a graduate, to see you in the throes of a world tour, a successful (by today's standards) album, and a promising future, is inspiration.

Starting off with the story of your signing to Jay-Z's Roc Nation is akin to the offer letter a grad gets from the huge firm. Add 'Dollar and a Dream III' and 'Can't Get Enough', to that, and you have the perfect juxtaposition of seeing the spoils of victory arisen from the mire of hard work. The next track, 'Lights Please', a holdover from 'The Warm Up', makes the perfect transition to the 'Interlude'. Even as a successful black man, it is nearly impossible to evade the long arm of the law. The album starts out showing how many aspects there are to such a caricature, from the diligent, to the frivolous, to the pensive, to the sensual.

My favorite song is the secondary titular track 'The Sideline Story' because it brings all of those aspects into view, along with reaching for the loftiest of goals. Your assertion that 'Can't nobody tell me what I ain't gonna be no more / You thinking I'mma fall, don't be so sure' is a thumbing of the nose to a system that tries to put everyone from college graduates to rappers and everyone in between in boxes. Rather than follow a pattern or formula, you do what is in your nature, and nothing more. In that same song you say 'Some niggas ask me why Jay never shout me out like I’m supposed to give a f*ck.' That line does wonders for so many reasons. Despite the fact that Jay is a mentor to you, and is on your album (albeit on the next song), you not needing him to cosign you is the greatest sign of independence I've seen in hip-hop today. Everyone in rap is trying to be the next Jay, and here you are espousing your freedom from that delineation. You, the graduate, the next up at bat, are standing up on your own two. Rather than look to the top for guidance, you looked to yourself, something that I want to do in my own life. Much like LeBron dropping the number 23 to leave his own legacy as number 6, you are making your own path.

Cole World goes on with another titular track that sounds as grimy as its namesake. The song, while a huge pat on the back, seems a bit misplaced. I suppose when the first half is as loaded as yours, you can't help but get a little sloppy. 'In the Morning' and 'Lost Ones' pick the album back up, juxtaposing the sultriness of mid-morning lust with the pain of fathering a son out of wedlock. Frivolity versus futility, salaciousness versus subjection, Cole, you show the duality that ails the young black. It is a weighty discussion that has been in our minds since we knew what sex was, and that you explore both sides in 'Lost Ones' is exceptional.

The album hits a short a lull after this, to me, Jermaine. It seems as if the postgrad world indeed has its peaks and valleys. A lot of the subject matter you touched on in the first half is revisited, albeit in a different manner, but still rehashed. The track with Missy, while valiant, sounded sluggish aside from Missy's chorus. 'Rise and Shine' didn't really do much for me, and seemed like a filler track that could have honestly been left out, as did 'God's Gift'. 'Never Told' takes the issues of non-communication in a somewhat roundabout way, while in an ascending fashion, 'Breakdown' shows the weakness that our generation has when faced with trying situations. Yet as the Missy song implies, no one is perfect. One of the things that our generation of young adults must contend with is learning about life while living it. That means making mistakes, and letting go of old things. That second part is the theme of 'Nothing Lasts Forever', where you recant on love lost and learning to move on. For me, that was a welcome song, having a new chapter of my life to start.

Your original lead single, 'Who Dat', is the perfect way to end Cole World, as it signals a changing of the guards. Your name is a non-issue if you continue to improve and spit flames, Cole. This album had no 'certified bangers', which honestly was a high point for me. Rather than relying on a single to do your work for you, you put out something that has to be listened to. One can't passively listen to you, Jermaine, although songs like 'Work Out' and 'Can't Get Enough' are certainly radio-friendly enough to draw a buzz. Is it a turning point in hip-hop? I'm not sure. With the way that Wayne, and Ye-Z (see what I did there?) sold, we might not see the rise of a oft-called 'conscious MC' for a while. But it starts with the college kids and graduates. #occupywallstreet, Obama's election and a new youth movement are certainly examples of this shift, and your debut album can be one of the many sounds to march to. Your ideal seems to be warming up to the world, Cole.

Dear NBA Owners

With a front of players united, how can you guys win?

via Yahoo! Sports:

Before a stunning confrontation between Dwyane Wade and NBA commissioner David Stern in Friday’s labor meeting, Wade, LeBron James and Chris Paul told their Players Association peers that they’re willing to sit out the season rather than make further concessions to the owners, sources told Yahoo! Sports.

Wade, James and Paul were at the forefront of a strong players presence at a Park Avenue hotel for Friday’s contentious bargaining session. In a private union meeting prior to the bargaining session with owners, James kept reiterating to the group of elite players that they shouldn’t give back a greater share of the league’s basketball-related income (BRI) than what they’d already conceded in previous negotiations.

“We’re all together on 53 [percent], right?” James said. “All together on 53 right?”

“LeBron, Wade and Paul want to fight this so hard, they don’t seem scared about missing the season,” one source in the negotiating room told Yahoo! Sports.

James, Wade and Paul believe the owners are bluffing in threatening to ultimately cancel the season to get the changes they want in the collective bargaining agreement, a source in the meeting said. In the meeting with union peers, the three stars declared their willingness to miss games rather than drop down from the 53 percent of BRI the union has proposed to the NBA.

Despite the bold talk out of the sport’s biggest stars, the union privately has expressed a willingness to move further toward ownership this weekend with an understanding that Stern wants desperately to cut a deal with the players and avoid a prolonged work stoppage.

Take a look around, NBA Owners! What do you see on the social landscape these days? I'll give you a second... *plays another game of NBA 2K11* You figure it out yet? ...No? Well, I'll tell you! Social upheaval is on the horizon! Wall Street protestors are trying to make waves against corporate personhood. The GOP is fighting to end government-run social programs in lieu of 'economic austerity'. All over the world, progressive, young citizens are pushing against their conservative governments in the name of social progress. NBA owners, this is the WRONG time to be a non-populist, especially considering how staid the players seem.

As a fan, this season was probably my favorite in recent memory. Not only were the Playoffs exciting and the Finals compelling, the NBA seems poised to birth a new era of stars. Players like John Wall, Blake Griffin, Tyreke Evans, Kevin Durant, Derrick Rose and many of the draft picks from the past four years are either entering their primes or beginning to show dominance. From a standpoint of gameplay, watching the NBA has never been more exciting.

Owners, look at the business landscape of your league at the moment, as well. The NBA just came off financially, its biggest season in decades according to Business Finance Magazine:

Overall revenues are at the highest they have ever been with gate receipts up significantly and team sponsorship sales at an all time high. We are on pace to have our most-watched season ever on TV. Subscriber growth has increased dramatically on NBA TV to 55 million homes in the U.S. We are experiencing double-digit revenue growth this year both in the digital business and internationally.

However, in order to achieve the revenue growth that we have experienced over the last decade, we have had to spend much more to generate the same $1 of revenue than we had to in decades past. As a result, the league overall has been experiencing significant net losses now, which wasn't the case back in the mid 1990s.

So, revenues are at an all-time high and ratings are through the roof, but you guys still insist that your pockets are losing weight. Of you 30 active owners, over half of you are billionaires. I don't think losing out a few million dollars to keep this season whole will hurt your bottom line. And if you decide to continue to lock the players out, you'll only be losing more money. Kobe Bryant, without an NBA season, can sign a deal anywhere in the world and still do what he loves. Jerry Buss, however, stands to lose a lot more if he doesn't cut the Ebenezer Scrooge act.

It's not that I think the players are lining up for the soup kitchen, either. LeBron, D. Wade, A'mare, Chris Bosh and the rest of last year's free agents are still filing receipts from those paychecks. As a matter of fact, I do think that there should be some sort of regulation on how much money a team can spend, so as to curb the ever-popular trend of going over the salary cap to seize a coup on the free agent market. That said, you guys shouldn't be so uncompromising. You guys aren't even playing! It's not your bodies on the line, and even if your team loses, you'll still be paid (as will the players, for that matter). At the same time, if your team wins, you get to stand on the podium with the team and take credit for something that you had no part in other than writing a check.

Populism and the rights of the workers are about to take on a new level of importance again, owners. The fans, whose hard-earned money you depend upon will support the players because they more easily identify with the blue-collar aesthetic of an athlete, not your big-wig greed. If the players continue to stand firm united against your front of trying to scream 'broke,' there is no way you can win. Why not take a page out of the NFL's book and head to the negotiating table ASAP. I guarantee it will be more constructive for you and the players than a winter full of owners slinging mud and NBA players trying to rap...

Steve Jack, you're my man, but this just can't go on...

Dear Hallmark

The person who gives me this will need more than his fair share of 'Get Well' cards at the end of the day...

via NBC:

In the business of selling sentiments, there's a card for everything, from traditional occasions to unique needs: cards with sound, cards for holidays, cards for losing a tooth. But losing a job?

Yes, now there's a card for that too. Hallmark recently rolled out a new line of layoff greeting cards.

Stores have a specific section for job loss and recession humor, offering words of support and encouragement. With the unemployment rate at nine percent, the company says customers called-in the need.

One card reads "Don't think of it as losing your job. Think of it as a time out between stupid bosses."

So... On today's episode of 'Life Sucks, You Don't Have a Job, and Corporations are Trying to Squeeze You Dry" we have... a corporation trying to squeeze you dry because you don't have a job and your life sucks! Yes, yes. Hallmark, you have stooped to a new low of recessionary fun with your new 'Layoff Greeting Cards'.

Once a bastion of hope, happiness, and well wishes, you too have felt the sting of financial woes, and in true business fashion have switched your tune up faster than Pookie went back to the crackpipe. The undeniable warm and fuzzy feelings that usually accompany greeting cards seem to have gone by the wayside, it seems. What I don't understand, though, is why you felt that even in this time of economic despair, you felt the need to still try to turn a profit. Have you no shame?

Look around, Hallmark! The country is in its worst economic rut since the Depression. Our government is making as much leeway as a snail going uphill. The threat of nuclear holocaust grows greater every day. More reality television is being produced as we speak, while protesters at Wall Street get pepper-sprayed to no avail. The last thing the country and consumers need is a $3.99 pat on the back from you guys. All of the marketing 'genius' you put into this could have easily been invested in a much more constructive avenue.

Never mind the fact that you even thought that this was a good idea. Who was your target consumer in this decision? What insensitive schmuck would buy a card for their loved one's layoff? I can't begin to imagine the rage that would emanate from my eyes Cyclops-style if someone ever presented me with a greeting card of consolation for being laid off. In fact, I'd be more upset that they spent the $3.99 on your product, instead of just giving me a handshake and the classified ads.

Yes, Hallmark, the recession sucks. But we don't need you to tell us that. As I sift through every job board I know and e-mail every professional I've ever come in contact with, I can't help but wonder how the prospects on employment wit your company are. Given your pride in releasing this depressing news, I can only assume that business is booming in your hallways. Even so, if Obama has his way and the American consumer has his way (both iffy propositions in their own) I'm pretty sure you won't be offering this promotion for too much longer. HAPPY LAY-OFF!!!

Dear Congress (re: Debt Deal)

You didn't push the button... You made a deal to make a deal to push the button if you can't agree to push the button.

via The Huffington Post:

Congressional leaders and President Obama on Sunday night announced they've cut a deal to avert a historic U.S. default, saying they have assembled a framework that cuts some spending immediately and uses a "super Congress" to slash more in the future.

The deal calls for a first round of cuts that would total $917 billion over 10 years and allows the president to hike the debt cap -- now at $14.3 trillion -- by $900 billion, according to a presentation that House Speaker John Boehner (R-Ohio) made to his members. Democrats reported those first cuts at a figure closer to $1 trillion. It was unclear Sunday night why those two estimates varied.

The federal government could begin to default on its obligations on Aug. 2 if the measure is not passed.

The next round of $1.5 trillion in cuts would be decided by a committee of 12 lawmakers evenly divided between the two parties and two chambers. This so-called super Congress would have to present its cuts by Thanksgiving, and the rest of Congress could not amend or filibuster the recommendations.

But if the super Congress somehow failed to enact savings, the measure requires automatic cuts worth at least $1.2 trillion. Those cuts would be split equally between military and domestic programs. Social Security, Medicaid and programs for the poor would be spared, but Medicare providers -- not beneficiaries -- would take a hit.

Compromise is a concept that everyone likes to espouse. It is so lauded and aggrandized in mainstream society, yet few people are truly willing to compromise. In this age of opinions, we like to say that everyone's opinion matters, yet when it comes time to move, most people are so stuck holding up their ideologies that they can't even begin to agree. Such is the case with you today, Congress.

Throughout the summer, and dating back to the 2010 midterm elections, the rising national debt has been a topic of hot debate. The hard (or imagined; no one really knows) date of August 2nd was engraved in our country's mind as the day when the United States would no longer have cash to sustain its spending. Congress, you were entrusted with finding a solution that would not only stop the bleeding from our credit cards, but also to bring in some additional cash so that maybe we wouldn't have to resort to rampant borrowing to make ends meet. I won't go into the specifics of whether I supported cuts or new revenues (you can look back at my other letters for that). The debt deal is already done, so having a written standoff about the ideological standpoints is futile. What I will take a stab at, though, is that the deal is little more that a deal to make another deal.

Congress, your job is simple: enact laws and legislation that reflect the views of the American people, and the realities of an eminent future. The months leading up until tomorrow have been a political three-ring circus, to say the least. Your simple duties have been absconded in a haze of filibusters, name-calling, misguided lone-rangering, misinformation and inactivity. From the Tea Party and GOP's unwavering insistence that everything with a pulse be cut, to Obama's 'holier-than-thou' approach, to the Dems disappearance, it seemed like no one on Capitol Hill really had the cojones to do what was right in the shadow of an impending financial collapse. Since none of the key players or sides in the debate were willing to concede, and our President forgot that he is the Executive of our fair country, we ended up with a deal that does nothing other than postpone our D-Day until Christmas. I can just feel the holiday cheer already.

Yes there are cuts, but they're mostly discretionary, and to things that already had one foot out of the door. Medicare and Medicaid, while pet programs of the Dems and sworn enemies of the GOP, are essentially going to be outmoded by Obamacare. Defense, with the Iraq and Afganistan wars simmering, was already a target. No new taxes or elimination of tax loopholes. No creative solutions to spur the economy. No infrastructure or educational plans to get the wheels rolling. Just... a deal to make a deal, and another 'bipartisan committee' to place the onus on balancing our books on. That's just not efficient, Congress. While I am liberal to the core, I understand what conservatives mean by there being too much 'government' when I think about a 'trigger' for more cuts or the new committee.

Congress, your task was to compromise so that we as a country don't have to think about defaulting on our national debts in another year's time. Instead, you effectively put off the hard decisions for no reason. We aren't any closer to a balanced budget than we were a year ago, because there is so much posturing, so many 'my way or the highway' leaders, and too many opinions (some corporate-funded, some just asylum-insane) for there to be any real consensus. If you think for a minute that this deal accomplished something more than attempting to placating the media and the few political extremist hell-bent on their own ideologies, you're dead wrong. This debt deal, and the negotiations that brought it along, proved that you are running about as efficient as a Ford Pinto with rear-end damage right about now, with no plans to put the fire out anytime soon.

You, Congress are in session for less than half of the year, usually taking summers off. That none of this became urgent until mid-July showed how truly disorganized you are. A compromise was your only task, and you couldn't even get a real one. Just a nice story for the papers, and another six months of uneasiness and anxiety for the American people to have to cope with. We elected you to make decisions for the country, not argue about who really cares about the country. Rather than be talking heads, why not be thinking ones? Thinking heads who look at the facts above all else and put strict party lines on the back burner to get the job done. Thinking heads who take the lessons of the past into consideration to make for a successful future. Thinking heads who have innovative plans while continuing to listen to the constituents that put them in office. Democrat or Republican, Independent, Moderate, Progressive or Tea Partier, liberal or conservative, you have to share the brunt of these decisions. Compromise doesn't mean anything if the status quo continues to be protected. Perhaps it's time you began compromising like there's more at stake than re-election...

Dear Entry-Level Employer

We all need the right job... Not just 'a' job.

I'm writing this letter for my generation... for my friends, roommates, epoch, what have you, who are on the precipice of what adults would call 'adulthood'. Since my graduation from undergraduate college, my life has been filled with wanted ads, Craigslist posts, Monster.com profiles and resume-writing, all in search of you, an entry level employer. Your presence is what fuels every college career fair, resume workshop and self-imposed library-lockdown. You make it so that without you, the last four (or five, depending on who you ask) years are seen as a waste by everyone outside of my generation.

Entry-level job, I won't comment on where I am in my search for one of you (this blog has to keep something private). Everywhere I look, my friends are essentially losing their wills to live their dreams because they have to look for one of you. Whether it's to pay off college loans, placate parents, or just so that we're not in line at the soup kitchen, if we don't have one of you, times get rough.

In this economy opportunities are running slim, not to make that a scapegoat. Yet, our prospects can't help but make us dismal. We can go to events and send cover letters for eternity, but the fact is, the average unemployed citizen stays that way for nine months. For graduates that's a double strike. Not having years of experience over older job-seekers. That might make you wary of hiring us. It can be a strenuous process on both sides. Even so, we both have to be fair to one another. That said, here are some pointers:

1. I will not be losing my soul to one of you. Call it what you want, whether it be career exasperation, quarter-life crises or cognitive dissonance, your emergence leads to a crossroads of sorts: whether to continue following some semblance of 'going after my dreams' or to join the ranks of the employed with one of you. While most of my compatriots take the latter road, and find themselves burned out by a decent-paying job that they hate, I vow to leave if ever I feel the same way. It's not you, It's me. These days, no one is happy at their job. The recession made it so that people have to take on positions that they wouldn't normally take on, just to make ends meet. Yes, the poorhouse sucks. But I'd rather take my chances than go bald and have an aneurism at 24 due to work related stress and depression. Wouldn't you rather have the right employee for the position, who feels vindicated by it, than an unhappy laborer who can't wait for 5:00?

2. I am not expendable. As much as college graduates outnumber the Israelites on the way to Canaan, that doesn't mean that we are all the same. Nor does it mean that one graduate is the same as the next. Take the time to learn that. Generic postings such as 'high GPA needed', 'top college', 'go-getter', and 'high achiever' are like trying to sell fake iPods at a flea market in China. Stop trying to cast a wide net so that every graduate with a pulse will apply to you, and tailor yourself so that we know what we are getting into. Like I said, I am not expendable and you should treat me as such. I have ideas, cool stories and probably more expertise on a computer a lot of entire office. Regardless of how many rolodexes you have filled and continuing education seminars you've hosted, you can't possibly have potential that I (as a younger, more technologically adept employee) will have. Know that. Believe that. Understand that I will be in your position soon. Do you really want to be the employer that undervalued the college graduate with the 'next big idea'?

3. Pay me! No seriously, pay me. Please. Do you see what's going on in the news? The rich and huge corporations are making a killing and have been doing so for the past decade. I know your (probably) corporate bank account has more commas than an English sonnet. That comes with the territory of a lot more employers than before. Stop trying to reel us in with promises of 'Great commissions' and 'Incentive-based pay'. No. For all of the 'not-in-the-job-description' caliber work that I will most likely be entrusted with, it behooves you to pay me what I am worth, especially if I'm doing my job well. The bottom of the pyramid makes it so that the point can look good. Underpaying your employees, especially entry-level ones makes it so that YOU are the expendable ones. Tired of employee turnover in the lower rungs? Stop paying recent graduates peppercorns and give us an incentive to want to stay with one of you.

4. Make the job at least worth talking about. Account Executives, Account Associates, Executive Associates... They all do the SAME thing: get business for whatever firm in question. At this juncture in the economy, jobs are like Dunder-Mifflin paper: maybe not the same, but all serve the same function. Yes, pay is important. But what is your company doing to make it jump out at ME? Is there travel involved? Are there company outings? Firmwide streaking? Health benefits? Networking events? Happy hours? Take your pet rock to work day? Anything? Do something to make that 9-5 seem a little shorter. There's nothing worse that a job that offers nothing but work. In that case, the employees usually offer the bare minimum too. That company might not be around for much longer.

I think those are fair. Like I said, I won't remark on where I am in my job search, but I will be looking for one of you that fulfills those four needs. Maybe those aren't even as specific to you, as they are to jobs in general. We know it's a recession. That doesn't mean jobs have to become these lifeless, dreadful places that you want to leave as soon as you walk in.

Entry-level employer, I can guarantee you that I'm a top-notch employee with a track record to improve it. It's just that you guys aren't what you're hyped up to be, and signal a serious crossroads in our lives. In our complex journey for self-actualization, and as a recent graduate, your appeal has to be more than a salary. My greatest fear in life is having my paycheck be my bane, and I'm sure I can find 100 other grads thinking the same thing. They don't call us 'the Future' for nothing. We'll work. We'll slave. We'll blow your company up. (in the best way possible) Think of it as the 'it' that makes the salary not even register in our minds, the quid pro quo that makes both of us happy. I'll hold up my end of the bargain. Will you?

Dear President Obama

Sometimes, you've got to walk away from the table to let them know you're serious.

via CNN:

A fourth straight day of talks intended to head off a possible government default ended on a tense note Wednesday, with House Majority Leader Eric Cantor saying President Barack Obama cut him off by saying "I'll see you tomorrow" before walking out.

The exchange concluded almost two hours of talks that failed to achieve a breakthrough. Another session -- the fifth in five days -- was set for Thursday, participants said...

Cantor, R-Virginia, told reporters after Wednesday's meeting that he proposed a short-term agreement to raise the federal debt ceiling, a position Obama has previously rejected.

"That's when he got very agitated and said I've sat here long enough -- that no other president -- Ronald Reagan -- would sit here like this -- and that he's reached the point that something's gotta give," Cantor said, adding that Obama called for Republicans to compromise on either their insistence that a debt-ceiling hike must be matched dollar-for-dollar by spending cuts or on their opposition to any kind of tax increase.

"And he said to me, 'Eric, don't call my bluff.' He said 'I'm going to the American people with this,' " Cantor quoted Obama as saying.

"I was somewhat taken aback," Cantor said. When he continued to press the issue, Cantor said, Obama "shoved back from the table, said 'I'll see you tomorrow' and walked out."

There comes a point when compromise is no longer an option; when putting your cards on the table in a motion of humility is best replaced by flipping the table over and throwing chairs... Well, perhaps that wouldn't work in the White House. But the furniture is all the same. President Obama, for the past two months, the country (or the more informed/interested parties of the country) and it's government have been embroiled in a vicious economic, philosophical and sociological debate about the deficit. I won't sit here and go through all of the ins and outs, because I'm sure you've had enough of it, and by your reaction yesterday it's obvious the debate has hit an impasse.

GOP Leaders like John Boehner, Rick Perry and Eric Cantor have stuck to their guns, claiming that raising taxes on the rich would hurt the 'job creators' and that cutting social programs and taxes are the quickest way to cut the deficit. Barack, I am proud to know that you finally called their bluff and walked out of the futile negotiations. I'm tired of Republicans protecting the corporate big wigs whose pockets they're holding. I'm tired of them wanting to cut social programs that most Americans rely on, all while refusing to cut military spending that has blown way out of proportion since the Iraq/Afganistan Wars started. I'm tired of a Congress so hell bent on not raising taxes on the rich that they would allow the country to go into a default in August. I'm tired of reading the news and seeing these same Republicans claiming that they will not budge when you're clearly trying to come to a centrist, middle-of-the-road compromise that encompasses some of their social cuts and the new tax revenues you're seeking.

You finally put your foot down and decided that sitting at a table with a bunch of GOP blowholes who keep spinning the same record about tax cuts and social program cuts was about as useful as a pee-flavored lollipop. You even brought up the GOP Messiah, Ronald Reagan, claiming that not even he would subserve to such draconian measures. It's been proven, by the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the Federal Reserve, numerous polls and independent researchers that cutting taxes (especially to the rich) will NOT FIX THE DEFICIT. And you know, just like I and most non-FOX News watching citizens, that those same tax cuts were the impetus for this Great Recession that's threatening to collapse our economy once again. The Republicans would rather drive us into the ground to protect an outmoded and unsustainable ideology, than come to a compromise that, quite frankly, employs a lot more of their ideas than yours.

Obama, you said that a change was necessary in 2008. For the past year, I've felt that you've kowtowed too much to the devices of the Party of No. Yesterday, I think that the Obama that I voted for was reincarnated with a vengeance, and I LOVE IT. By walking out of the negotiations yesterday, you proved that you're not going to give up the high ground. Yes, the GOP has a majority in the House. Yes, their personal media conglomerate FOX News, continues to purport lies and falsehoods to the same people that are being downtrodden by this recession. And yes, John Boehner and Eric Cantor are about as fiscally sound as Donald Trump in a store full of toupees. But you're the President. You're the person in command. You set the stage, and yesterday you took the stage right from under the those GOP blowholes by walking out. If this fire is an indicator of what's to come, then maybe I'm not as worried about what 2012 will bring (fiscally, that is) anymore. Walk hard, Barry. Walk hard...

Dear James Harrison

Can't argue with a man who has two sets of guns, and regularly decapitates receivers on the field...

via Men's Journal:

“My rep is James Harrison, mean son of a bitch who loves hitting the hell out of people,” he says. “But up until last year, there was no word of me being dirty — till Roger Goodell, who’s a crook and a puppet, said I was the dirtiest player in the league. If that man was on fire and I had to piss to put him out, I wouldn’t do it. I hate him and will never respect him.”

In the midst of any sports lockout, especially one that has no end in sight, one can expect all hell to break loose on the front of relations between the players and the league. After a certain point, the niceties that riddled early negotiations are thrown out the window in lieu of loaded rhetoric and unbridled, unapologetic, speech. That's why I have no problem with your comments on NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, Mr. Harrison. I added the 'Mr.' out of respect, especially after seeing you posing with huge non-muscular guns in Men's Journal. Either way, there seems to be no love lost between you and Goodell, and I, for one, LOVE it.

In today's media age where no comment can go without criticism, and no opinion is taken with a grain of salt, you have officially earned my stamp of 'Realest Dude in the Game,' James. First of all, it's no secret that you and Roger Goodell have never seen eye-to-eye. I won't sit here and say he's had it out for you, because Goodell seems to have a personal vendetta against any player who doesn't act as the NFL's personal footstool. At the same time, your comments reverberate with me because I'm tired of professional leagues trying to stomp out the (sometimes volatile) personalities that litter them. Whereas 20 years ago, a player coming out and putting a verbal bullseye on league officiating and management or speaking his mind about other players was somewhat normal, today no one wants to be 'that guy'. No one wants to have his endorsements docked and his pay suspended because he voiced his opinion. on the league.

... But wait a minute. We're in a lockout! Right now, Roger Goodell and the league can do diddly squat to you because you're technically not under the league's jurisdiction. For that reason, I say talk as much as you want, James. Don't let the prospects of ruffling the wrong feathers silence you! Speak up! Let some crazy scandal go! Air some teammates out! Seriously... If there's one thing that professional sports leagues are missing as of late, it's the trash-talking and general edginess that made them so interesting. The NBA regained it this year with the whole LeBron circus, but the NFL is just waiting for someone to come out and set flames to the entire establishment. Yes, there might be repercussion,s but imagine the precedent you'll set, with the players talking back, and reclaiming the league that wouldn't exist without them! Forget hurting feelings! You play for the Steelers, James; the guys who perfected the art of smash-mouth football. You've already enacted the smash on the field.. Why not let your mouth do some talking, to let Goodell, the owners and the league that there is no league without the players: and that is a fact that should never be punished, no matter how harshly it's put...

Dear Racism Whistle-Blowers

If he falls off this mountain, is the mountain now a racist?

'It's because I'm black!'

'Man, that's racist!'

'How can you do that, as a black man?'

'Don't you know that (supposedly racist act) originated in (racially-charged event)?'

The list could go on forever... Of all the things that irk me to no end, I think the one that has stood out lately is you, the prototypical racism whistle-blower. We all know about planking now, thanks to Twitter. The craze started out months ago in New Zealand as a twist on the 'lying down' game, and grew to notoriety when an unsuspecting planker died after tumbling down a mountain. Yet, in recent weeks the fad has grown to a fever pitch, conspicuously making its rounds in the mainstream media and the black community. As with many crazes, I was quick to dismiss it, simply because it is a case of major groupthink and the world has many other issues to deal with other than people lying face-down in random locations.

Yet you racism whistle-blowers had to take it to that level. People always get on blacks and other minorities for pulling out the race card at unscrupulous intervals... And predictably, we get mad, championing the sacrifices of our ancestors and claiming that we shouldn't be delving into certain things because of the racially-charged histories behind them. Planking has received the same treatment, with hoards of you whistle-blowers alluding to the triangular trade practice of stacking slaves on top of one another in slave ships to conserve space. Now, I understand why you would make this comparison. They look pretty darn similar. Hell, they might've even used the same term to describe it... But consider this: NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE RACIST!

Why is it that nothing can pass through the lens of a black 'radical' without having 'Bigot' branded on its forehead? Are we that desperate for talking points to continue the 'struggle', that something created purely in fun can't be left alone? I'll take a wild guess that when people began planking again, slave ships were the farthest thing from their minds. And by that token, I don't think that some 21st-century fad was on the mind of slave dealers when they were planking slaves. Trying to elicit an air of causation from either side is not only reaching, but silly. Yes, the link is there. But it doesn't mean the link is automatically valid or worth causing a kerfuffle about. Whistle-blowers, let me end on this: why not focus on racism that actually affects us like... I don't know... Tea partiers, or Clarence Thomas, or Michelle Bachman? Either that or go walk a plank... Seriously.

Dear NBA Lockout

Dear God... If you love us, please don't bring this back.

Comparisons are the backbone of sports analysis. You can't give a fair estimation of any player, team, era or anything related to sports without something prior to measure it up to. LeBron vs. Kobe vs. Michael. Dwight Howard vs. Shaq. Showtime Lakers vs. Kobe & Shaq Lakers. Detroit Bad Boys vs. Detroit Bad Boys v2.0. Comparisons have a way of shortening the time capsule known as sports history, so that even the least knowledgeable basketball fans can join in the discussion. The dearth of information on NBA.com, basketball-reference.com and Wikipedia give us an archive of the happenings that make the NBA great. That said, one comparison that I'd rather not even have the chance to make is that concerning you, NBA Lockout.

In 1998, after Michael Jordan willed another 3 titles out of his beleaguered limbs, the NBA was at an impasse similar to that of today. The league had seen unparalleled levels of success, notoriety and viewership. An influx of young talent, namely from the 1996 Draft had restocked the rosters with stars that still play today. Yet, no one was happy with the league. Players and teams argued about player salaries. Team owners argued with the NBA offices about how little money they were making. Fans argued with fans about who was to blame for all of the arguing. Arguments, arguments and arguments. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

NBA Lockout, in 1998 you brought my worst fears to fruition: a half-assed season; 50 games clearly devoid of the spark that made the NBA great during the early-to-mid 90s. It was painful to watch. No All-Star Game. A virtual vacuous shell of a season, that in retrospect, may as well have not even happened. An exciting, yet wary NBA Finals. These are the shadows that haunt me today, NBA Lockout. If you happen, that's all I can see. Months of deliberation and sitting in front of SportsCenter hoping for good news. Interviews with superstars and owners all blaming one another for losing money, when everyone should be bearing the onus.

At this point in NBA history, you would be absolutely destructive. Not as much from a monetary standpoint, but in terms of momentum. After your last inception, the amount of knocks that the NBA took was detestable. From waning viewership because no one could relate to stars or cared enough, to basketbrawls that painted the NBA in a thuggish light, to a vacuum of talent, it took the NBA another 8 years to regain its fire. Lockout, you would bring the NBA back into the dark ages of basketball. Those years from 1999 to around 2004 were boring by today's standards, no matter how many times teams tried to reignite themselves. Guys like Michael Olowokandi, Darius Miles, Trajon Langdon were cast into spotlights devoid of substance simply because you forced teams to look elsewhere for talent. And it's going to happen again. Just look at this past draft, all of the players that stayed in college, and it's obvious.

They say that those who don't learn from their history are doomed to repeat it. What makes your impending reappearance so sad is that you'll probably happen again next decade. In this age where the players clearly have more pull than management (just ask Carmelo), there's little reason to have a Collective Bargaining Agreement that lasts more than 6 or 7 years. Last year's free agent frenzy makes it so that every player averaging over 17 points a game thinks they can swindle their way into a $10M/year contract, and owners thinking they can buy a championship a la the Heat. Players see the dollar signs from million dollar endorsements on behalf of the league. At the same time, owners still see shrinking pockets, with 22 of the 30 franchises losing money. Owners see the balooning player egos and believe the only way to reign them in is to jump into you. Rather than have a real discussion about where the money is going, everyone wants to discuss why the money isn't going to them. Lockout, you bring the green-eyed monsters in every NBA personality out so that nobody wins. You did it in 1998 and if the NFL bears any similarity, you seem poised to do it again.

Do me a favor, lockout. Stay in the annals of NBA history. Keep all of your salary arbitration, endless meetings, arguments and debates in the past. Do me this favor and keep yourself from tainting what was a miraculous run of NBA growth with your money-hungry ideology. Do me this favor and keep the NBA from reverting back to a business. You can't decry the need for better sportsmanship and increased engagement while fighting over dollars. Do me this favor so that we don't have to go through an entire fall and winter of baseball talk. Long live the complete, unadulterated NBA, and death to a Wikipedia entry with 2011-2012 listed as a lockout season. That's a comparison or conversation I never want to have...