The world through my eyes relayed to you through my keyboard.

Month: May, 2014

As Donald Sterling fights back against the NBA like a cornered racist lion against a pack of civil rights hyenas, everybody seems to be singing the praises of recently crowned NBA commissioner Adam Silver. I’m not one of them. I’ll tell you why.


First, let’s put things into perspective. As leadership jobs go, Silver’s isn’t really all that important. It’s not as if he’s leading a civil rights movement. His job, essentially, is to make sure the NBA stays on TV, and that personnel behave themselves – especially players, coaches, and owners. Is it a tough job? Maybe. Did anyone, however, see how preceding commissioner David Stern ballooned up to damned near 300 pounds? He clearly worked hard at not missing a meal reservation.


Adam Silver made a decision that I liken to deciding whether to use coal dust or soap while taking a shower. He stood at home plate wielding a tractor-trailer sized bat while Sterling tossed him a planet-sized slow ball from the pitcher’s mound that would’ve hit the bat and roared out of the park even if Silver had dropped the bat to the ground.


Calm down NBA public. Silver still has plenty of time to get fat.


Donald Sterling stay home.

Okay, there’s this massive kerfluffle about Donald Sterling and the hidden racism of the White, rich, powerful elite here in the USA. Here’s something you might find interesting. When the doors are closed, and any race, ethnicity, or grouping of human beings is among only its own, we complain about other races, ethnicities, or groupings.


That’s right! I said it! Those of us who live among those who are racially different from us have at least a modicum of racist within us. We’re not Tibetan monks who might separate into cliques regarding who best cleans their robes, or which sector seems to end up getting more yak turd clean up duty.


White people are imperial demagogues who feel they have the right to run the world. Black people are conniving (they sledge hammered pigs to convince their masters that the animals were sick so that they’d be allowed to eat every speck of it), and have an inferiority complex because their ancestors were slaves. Latinos are lazy, shiftless thieves with men who almost religiously beat their women. These are accusations that I’ve actually heard with my own two ears probably while I was sleeping. Here’s the thing, however. All of the above accusations can be attributed to people of all races, creeds, colors, ethnicities, and economic stations – even people who love clowns. Why, clown people? They’re weird and scary.


I Admit. I’ve committed every single one of the atrocities I’ve mentioned above at least once in my life – even if only in my mind. Yes, I’ve hit a woman. It was over twenty-five years ago, and she physically attacked me first, but that’s no excuse. The shame permeates my soul to this day, and as I recount the incident in my mind, as I’ve done thousands of times before, tears roll down my face.


The bottom line here is that a person is not a measure of what they say. Sometimes they’re not even a measure of what they think. They are, however, always a measure of what they do. I feel sorry for Donald Sterling. Not because he’s getting his racist, misogynist, whiny ass bounced out of the NBA. That, he deserves. I feel sorry for him because he got tricked by a sidepiece – a bimbo – a groupie, into exposing himself for what he really is. Beware old, White, rich guys. Gold-digging bimbo mistresses are armed with smart phones and micro cassette recorders, and they know how to use them – surprisingly. Oops. I think I just exposed myself as a Gold-digging bimbo sidepiece mistress-ist. Sorry.


I might say mean things towards that segment of society, but I do nothing. I let them ply their trade. Donald Sterling at least hired and paid some Black people to work for him. Some of the Black folks made out pretty well. He did something positive, even though he probably didn’t mean to do it. V Stiviano, Donald’s sidepiece, on the other hand, recorded her lover saying things that she knew would indict him, even as she claimed to love him. Now she acts as if she doesn’t want the attention. People are ALWAYS a measure of what they DO. That’s what happens when a person’s first name is a single letter.

Donald Sterling: Creep, Victim, or Both