Real quick… There are people out there doing WAY MORE than me, but my sorry-ass only notices the shit about ’em I don’t like(?!)…of which I relentlessly—and quite boringly—talk shit about.

“I love what you DO, not YOU.”

Do you love Chinese people as much as you love their food? Do you love Indian women as much as you love their hair? Do you love Russians as much as you love their vodka? Do you love scientists as much as you love the innovations their research makes possible? Do you love Caribbean people as much as you love their beaches? Do you love Germans as much as you love their cars?

The answer to most of these is probably a resounding no…and you know why? Because NARCISSISM rules the day!!! If we ALL loved the people behind the cultures we CONSUME we would be livin’ MLK’s dream! But this is not the case, (for the most part) we are a society of dilettantes and takers. We serve SELF. We even see this phenomenon play out in our social advocacy decisions, the only reason most us give a damn about The Issues™ is because they affect people that are like US!!! We have a VERY HARD time relating to ‘others’ which makes it difficult for us to advocate for them. Makes sense though. Why would a white dude give a’damn about black dudes getting shot by cops? Judging by the media narrative (oftentimes the only narrative our myopic asses pay attention to) it’s not likely to happen to him. It’s that narcissistic shit and ironically it is the tie that binds us ALL! We are UNITED in our narcissism! We love what people do FOR us, not the people themselves. We are not unconditional lovers. Our love comes with a plethora of conditions. Probably explains why we hold those relatively rare few who we believe love sans condition in such high regard. We even WORSHIP them. And no, I am FAR FROM immune. All this shit I’m talking comes from a very real and personal place. As the old saying goes: Game recognize game, or in this case: Lame recognize lame.

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A couple weeks ago while waiting for the library to open I got into an awesome little rap session with a kindred spirit. One thing that really stood out (been thinking about it ever since) was this bit about he and his wife becoming DNA clones by virtue of all the genetic information they exchange via physical intimacy and living in close proximity to one another. I thought this was a fascinating premise, one that could be extended beyond intimate relationships to our everyday, mundane encounters and even our violent back-and-forths.

Speaking of which…
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As comedian Eddie Izzard once remarked(?) the only thing ironic about this song is the fact that none of the things mentioned are ironic…which in a way makes it a great song ABOUT irony.

I’m really starting to think ‘the thing we call God’ IS irony (or should it be ‘the thing we call irony’ IS God?). Ever notice how any time we try to force an absolute something pops up that contradicts it? Hell, I was just contradicted WITHIN that last sentence!!! I basically said there are ABSOLUTELY no absolutes. That doesn’t even make sense. (It’s unironically ironic.) But that is PRECISELY the point! ‘The thing we call God’ will always exist OUTSIDE of our realm of understanding, but at the same TIME he/she/it/π exists WITHIN us.

It’s not always judgment, sometimes people are just more well-versed in the vagaries of the backs of our hands than we think they are. Our rush to rebuke their words as ‘judgment’ (as well as dismiss their ‘right’ to speak) is a defense mechanism; we are shocked by the fact that they are able to SEE us through our subterfuge of bullshit. We thought we were hiding, but in reality we were exposed, naked, wide open. Oh, and this doesn’t just apply to one-to-one relationships, it also works on a macro level (race-to-race, nation-to-nation, male-to-female, etc.).

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Things don’t have to START off real in order to BECOME real. Take this ridiculously popular film franchise for example. George Lucas (and teams of other artists) created a cinematic world so dense, so awe-inspiring that it leapt off the screen and into novels, comic books, cartoon series, videogames, toys, clothing and most importantly US. There’s even a canon that fans are adamant about maintaining. Star Wars is now a thing that both fans and non-fans alike are able to recognize with very little information; a flash of a character’s face, a stab of the score, a sound effect is all it takes to INSTANTLY transport us to its world.

Crazy thing is: This franchise has only been around for a few decades and it’s already achieved this ‘transcendent’ status. Imagine how much REALER it will become when all of the original artists and fans who were aware of its TRUE ‘fake’ origins die off…but yet IT still remains. This endurance is a very REAL possibility as Star Wars is a thing that ‘lives’ within the hearts of MILLIONS of people all over the world (a profound density). People LOVE it and the love is what will, and has, propelled it through time. I don’t know how it will evolve as it comes in contact with different iterations of us along the way, but I’m sure a core principle or principles will remain. I’m sure there will be something there that we would STILL recognize.

And this my friends is how LOVE—and PASSION—subvert TIME. Because no matter how much the thing evolves—like Darth Vader could become a dude named Randy Wash—the love will be the REASON it evolves. Just think about it: The old timeless classics we sing along to—do we sing them out of hate? What about those recipes that have been passed down through generations? The stories? Is it the details of these things that is important or what they are ABOUT that is important? I’m not saying that the details are bad, but they do ‘lie.’ Constantly. It’s kinda their nature. They’re ALWAYS evolving, changing shape, functionality, but the love…that lasts forever. Well, I (would like to) BELIEVE it does.

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“My earliest known ancestor is a guy named Roger. No seriously, that’s his name. Fuckin’ Roger. No sir, admiral, saint shit in front of it. No Jackson, Adams, Winston behind it. Just fucking Roger. What family history can you pull from one regular-as-shit name? Were there other guys named Roger? Did my ancestor know ’em? Did they get into fights? Was it like Highlander? ‘This one name is all I got, I’ll be damned if I share it with a pencil-dick motherfucker like you!’ Did my ancestor say shit like that? Was he an asshole? I don’t know.

“I think when you get to the ‘Roger’ point you should be allowed to just make shit up. So fuck it, Roger was the first black therapist slave. No, even better, he wasn’t a slave, he was JUST a therapist. And not JUST the first black therapist… My great, great, great, great, how-ever-many-more great granpa Roger was the first therapist in fucking history. The king of therapists actually. Had a crown an’ shit. Fuck it. Why not? I could say he invented dominoes if I wanted to, how could anybody prove me wrong? What can you say?…’I don’t think a slave named Roger could’ve done that,’ And I’ll say, ‘He did a’lotta shit before he became Roger. Being the first man in outer space was only one of them.'”


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