From the Rooter to the Tooter

"Trying to insert the suppository felt like sex with a woman for the first time." 


As Bernie Mac use to say, "Ok America!" 


The holidays are in full throttle and we are out eating until our hearts' content.  All my life, in sum, I have enjoyed the holidays with the food and sports on TV.


In these middle years, I am totally unprepared for the next phase of life.  Take into account the unfortunate discomfort of hemorrhoids.


I simply did not want to except that I need to do anything about it.  I'm not talking about surgery.  It's the simple discomfort that comes with eating too much spinach and honey cashews.  While cooking, I decided to compulsively eat cashews as I waited for the turkey, Italian sausage dressing, macaroni and cheese, spring salad, and chicken empanadas to finish.  From an old family tradition, I learned to wait to eat all day only to snack on berries and nuts to make it through the day.  


This Christmas/Kwanzaa holiday, I suffered from the glutenous consumption of fibrous foods that led to my hemorrhoidal irritation, burning, and inflammation.  I tried to go on a bike ride and soon returned home since I could not sit without a hostile, burning discomfort.  Anytime I went to the bathroom, I am not proud to mention the fact that the porcelin thrown provided me no comfort. One more visit to the late night drug store resulted from a final shameful battle royale of wills between my desire to not need medicine and roughing it.


Roughing it meant untold hours of discomfort and no telling how much more pain would be endured. I mean, there are limits any man should endure for some distorted ideal of manhood.  You know, exit only signs and all that jazz.


Well, I buckled down and decided to make the leap of faith.  So, I went all the way and got the ointment cream, suppositories, and wipes.  Like any real man, I wanted all options on the table.  I failed to read the directions out of pure ignorance or maybe arrogance. 


When I arrived home, I stood with my pants down, cheeks wide open, and my eyes concentrating on the application directions of each product.  I read the propaganda advertising the least evasive anal cleansing wipes.  


I did not notice something that I overlooked on the directions for the ointment wipes. The directions on each of the hemorrhoidal products read that the wipes were optional.  They read, "If possible," or "if practical."  The writers surely understood the gravity of the circumstances of people in need of their product and did not want to put them through further terror and inconvenience.  So, they understood that these wipes may not do a damn thing but cause more pain and suffering.  It was neither possible nor practical to wipe for many.  I, however, went ahead if nothing else because cleanliness was closer to godliness. Those damn wipes did nothing noticeable for me - they felt like an old rusty SOS pad on my soft baby cheeks.


Got to a fork in the road trying to decide between the ointment cream or suppositories.  The more intimidating suppository option did not give me peace after reading the directions. I read the ingredients and saw this product was made out of 85% animal fat.  Really, animal fat pushed into my rectum.  Then, the suppository was shaped like a bullet encapsulated in an aluminum case. Really!


The ointment cream provided the other option that seemed less provocative but less effective because I wanted this hemorrhoid to be stopped at the source, the root, deep inside where it all started.  So, I went with the suppository.  


Trying to insert the suppository felt like sex with a woman for the first time.  I couldn't find the hole to save my life for at least a minute or two, fumbling and breathing hard with hands on one cheek and other hand full of greased fingers from animal fat in the suppository.


When I finally found the hole, I frowned with malcontent and noticed how it slipped in.  As my rectum took in the suppository, I took a big fat gulp.  


Not a pretty sight to say the least.


Once I found my inner sanctum, I went to the cream and applied as directed. All I could think about was what happens if I pass gas before the suppository dissolves.  Then, my butt cheeks had that greasy feel to them. Next I felt a lump in my throat and bad taste in my mouth, which were probably some psychosomatic response to the suppository.  


I tell you because if you have not experienced this unsavory event, you should be more prepared then before.

Tiger Woods: No. 1 Nigger in America

After speaking to a family member today, we talked about the interesting fall of Tiger Woods.  However, when you really think about it, Tiger has risen to the top of the all too popular Top Nigger spot.  


You may recall this competition last being celebrated during the series of Michael Jackson sexual scandals or during the OJ Simpson trials. It's a delightful time when Americans find some famous Black man to take down who seems to have some affinity for White people.  


This is how it goes.  


Beloved by the majority of America, the star experiences wide spread appeal and celebrity. Although they may experience unparalleled fame compared to any other entertainer, politician, or sports figure in history, trailblazing a new era in entertainment, breaking down seemingly impossible barriers, and welcoming a wave of newfound racial appreciation, they comparatively share an experience of ambivalent support from other Black people.


Like OJ and Michael Jackson, Tiger Woods was embraced with timid warmth even after the black community initially rejected or is rejected or made to feel abandoned in the face of growing mass White appeal.  Like any good mascot, each magical negro including Tiger Woods experiences years of greater than God fame with exaltation and praise poured on  deep and wide.  


Eventually, the black community, while disappointed, finds of way to quietly accept and patiently waits for the prodigal son to return. The black community does not wish him harm.  Rather, educated pessimism has taught many that the fall from grace will come, come soon and come hard.


The funny thing about Tiger Woods is that in 1997 he experienced public racism after Fuzzy Zoeller's fried chicken comment  after Fuzzy got his ass beat and Tiger went on to win The Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Georgia. Like clock work, black leaders came to Tiger Woods' defense and expressed outrage for such off color comments.  We also learned about charity work and contributions to the community teaching inner city children golf and promoting golf to a new generation and community never breached by the upper class, almost all white golf community of the past.


Some of us knew the fall would eventually occur, this fall from grace.  We probably all wished that it did not have to be this way, but many others have accepted it as, dare I say, par for the course.  The fall from grace in such a way makes it incredibly hard to return back to the world's stage.  OJ and MJ fell from grace and only Michael seemed to make it back safely after hiding out for several years.  


With his death, Michael Jackson lives as a reincarnated, super being, god-like as only he could.  His influence so strong, MJ's death brought back the Jacksons for a possible musical tour and TV series.  We learn and have some reserved comfort knowing that the fall from fame eventually comes, because we also confidently know  that it does not destine one to perpetual disgrace.  In death, as with MJ, a black person can experience the same undying favor.


The fall from grace or fall into disgrace was not always something you could make a triumphed return.  If you fell from grace, it guaranteed that you would not return. Over the years, we have learned how to make a graceful return to the world's stage.


One of the almost absolute requirements for the come back requires the unwavering loyalty and acceptance from the black community.  When OJ was on trial, black people had his back from the get go - even when people said MJ was a pediphile, possibly raping children after their parents left them alone with him.  Even when there was outrage about the massacre of OJ's wife and the accusations of MJ's life with underage boys, some within the black community dismissed it as lies and baseless jibber jabber.  Without loyalty, maybe blind, the black community could never stand by and watch while these horrific charges were leveled on our sons.  


Even when they are not loyal to the black community, as a whole, black people faithfully pull the prodigal son back off the stage, lick their wounds, and pray that all will be well. They showed us that even we can blaze past racism and make a real difference in the world.  Fearlessly, they showed us how not to be afraid of whitey.  Like Jack Johnson, the first black heavy weight boxing champ, they showed us how to laugh in their face, beat them at their own game with money, influence, and smarts.  


We learned to appease white slave owners in years past that you can play the role of a fool, but you know how the saying goes, "My momma didn't raise no fool."  Like Muhammad Ali's "Rope-a-Dope", playing possum, or when we saw Ray Charles playing, "country dumb," in his biographical film, Ray, black people coped with challenges however small or large to find a way to conquer adversity.  We secretly hoped that it was a big game, something "they" created to distort the truth, conspiracy to tear them down, or the truth perverted for their benefit.  Even if the accusations we true, we did not have to like everything about them to celebrate with them. In the end, they accomplished something we could celebrate collectively and could never have it taken away.


Now that Tiger Woods is falling from grace, I wonder who he will run to in his time of grief.  Many people probably don't give a damn, some are so horrified that something like that could ever happen, others probably thought nothing of it, while even others see it as inevitable considering his circumstances - billion dollar man whose has conquered ever barrier - there's nowhere to go but down.


I welcome the time when Tiger will rise around out of the shadows, wounds sufficiently licked, maybe stronger, more resilient than before, smarter, more cleaver than even he thought he could be.  He might look like Sofia (play by Oprah Winfrey) from The Color Purple, wore out, beaten down, and on his last leg.  Similarly to her, we might also see him come out of that dark place, scared but not dead, alive and well.


I hope for the rebirth, a second half because it really is not over.  And, even if it is, it sure was nice while it lasted. If he goes away quietly, it's all good.  If he comes back like I think he should, he'll return maybe bigger and blacker than ever before.  I think he has nothing to prove and everything to gain.


What is potentially unique about the fall is the ugly head of racism that sooner or later rises above in each of these situations where the public seems to have a primal desire to protect the victim. In the case of OJ, his beautiful, oftentimes abused, wife.  With MJ, all those poor incident boys.  Now, with Tiger Woods, there is his wife, innocent victim more than willing to come after him with a five-iron.


With the fall from grace comes the unsavory title of No. 1 Nigger in America.  

The Blind Side - Seeing Past It: The Movie

Went to see The Blind Side a few weeks back.  Found myself in the same awkward situation that I've been in over the years after the premiere of popular movies like The Blind Side.


The Blind Side was at best a slightly above average movie with the cliché scenarios of a Black kid named Michael Oher being saved by a White family.  It also had the same magical negro phenomenon.  Like any good Black character popular in many films, we soon find out the mystical powers of this woefully overplayed, quiet giant. 


The film is set up as if this African American young man knows little if anything about football.  He's big, strong, and everyone calls him Big Mike.  By definition, he must be taken in a charity case.  But, the writer-director knew fatuous sympathy was not enough for his audience to feel compassion for this poor black character.  Yes, he's poor, uneducated, maybe dumb, big and underprivileged. However, the audience needed something more.  


The magic is learning that he is actually smarter than it seems with a strong body and character beyond comprehension.  The White family that eventually takes Big Mike in finds him walking in the cold with a short sleeve shirt on the side of the road alone and hungry.  So, okay, this family has to be given credit for taking a stranger in.  However, if it wasn't for a charismatic young son from the White family that befriended him, it is more than likely that he would not have been considered harmless by the "adults."

I must digress here because the relationship between the big, amazingly disarming Black man and the creative tongue of a preemie child playing the son of the parents who eventually take Big Mike in requires attention.  Remember The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn?  Finn and Jim seemed to be illustrated in The Blind Side.  

So, you might say, what is wrong with that?

Not much if you believe that a young elementary aged boy can lead a nearly grown man through life.  Yes, they are friends and eventually become family.  However, I am not inclined to believe that any man would follow behind a young boy in the way it is portrayed in the film.  At least in Huck Finn, they shared poverty, little or no education, common goal to escape the South, and Jim Crow.  None of those pieces existed in the film but they found of way to replicate the same dynamic and commonalty regardless.

Is there something to be said about any family taking in a young man, clothing him, providing shelter, feeding him emotionally and physically, and providing opportunities that he could not easily come by without their intervention?  Of course.  I do not care to see another film that down plays the truth and replaces it with nonsensical crap.

Although a gentle giant, we find that Big Mike needs direction that only the White family is able to provide.  His gift to the family is his kindness and sense or need for a family, past trauma requires that he protect others in his family at all cost.  The isolated young man quietly sits in waiting for his adoptive White family to respond to the celestial call to come together and be a family.  He teaches them to be a loving family in exchange for shelter, learning the subtle details of football, a full-time tutor, and a house you might find in the lifestyle of the rich and famous upper middle class. His strength of character brings the White family together collectively around their new mascot.  On the field, Big Mike is discovered to be a monster, kind but ferocious in ways not imagineable. 


I recommend you read the book,The Blind Side: Evolution of the Game, which The Blind Side was based. It avoids the mimicry of the movie.  Albeit that it will take time to read a good story and learn the truth.  However, if there was going to be a movie made, the producers, writers, and directors for it would have been better served to use reality to tell the human story instead of replacing it with short sighted bullshit.

Woods vs. Woods

Now, I'll be the first to say that the circus around Tiger Woods' supposed infidelity has far outworn its appeal.  I'll also admit that it does not seem clear what transpired the day Tiger ran into the tree near his home.  Some stories say that his wife used a iron golf club and smashed in the window of their SUV.  When the SUV Tiger was driving crashed into the tree, she was also credited with getting him out and getting him medical help.  Of course, these details have not been totally confirmed.


The focus of this whole thing has been Tiger's behavior, confirmed affair with at least one woman and alleged affairs with two other women.  Private matters that need attention is a minimum requirement it seems to me.


But, wait one got darn minute!


If it is true that his wife came after him with an iron golf club, then something is wrong.  And, no one is talking about it.  WTF! 


If the table was turned, the media hype would be even greater.  Black man running after a White woman with a damn iron club. Can you say, "OJ!" 


If that is wrong, why is it no one seems to bring up this other fact.


Okay, let's assume Tiger was wrong, committed a violation of his promise, his commitment to family, an unsanctioned transgression against the moral code of what our society holds dearly.  Okay, I got that!


What I do not get is the tacit acceptance that running after your husband with a iron club is okay.  If it was true and Tiger actually was hit with the club, charges could be filled with the police.  Which of course makes me wonder who Tiger was protecting after the incident - himself or his wife?  


Of course, there is his reputation and business that was tarnished.  This persona includes his wife and her behavior just as much as his behavior.  Unfortunately, it seems we can accept her behavior because for some reason it is sanctioned as tolerable under the circumstances.   


I think it would be wrong regardless of who was the philander in the situation.  Elin Woods is potentially as responsible for what went down as Tiger would be.  We have not even gotten into what was going on between them that may have led to the infidelity in the first place.  Each person in a relationship or couple have to take some responsibility for what goes down even when it is clear the less-the-human perpetrator, like Tiger Woods, bares primary responsibility.


So, I ask?  What responsibility does Elin Woods have in all this?  More than people seem to be willing to acknowledge . . . 


Another point, who the hell is Elin Woods anyway?  She is an ex-Swedish model who was working as an au pair for a golfer colleague while on tour.  What the hell does she bring to this package anyway?  


Don't get mad! Just asking.  


Elin did not deserve anything of this.  I'm just wondering what could be going on with them.  I wonder what it is like for someone like a Tiger Woods who is with a woman who seems to pale in comparison in so many, many ways.  Just a thought.