FREESTYLE FELLOWHIP feat. DADDY-O | “INNERCITY BOUNDERIES”
“I gotta be black.” Ahh jeah. How about a little smoothed out jazz to get things popping this week? I know next to nothing about these cats, but when this song came out I remember thinking “These guys are from L.A.? Really?” This song came out in ‘93, during the height of “The Chronic/Doggystyle” pandemonium. Talk about your uphill climb. In ’93 I would’ve had better luck taking Lark Voorhies to Prom, then Freestyle Fellowship going platinum. They never had a chance at commercial success. Too bad.

THE D.O.C. | “FUNKY ENOUGH”
“And with no rehearses, I’m dropping funky verses.” OK technically The D.O.C. is from Dallas but his music, flavor, and persona is pure west coast. Now with that bit of business out of the way, my God I love this song! I love this song so much, I want to make it my first ex-wife. Then after we get a divorce, I want to marry it again. This beat makes me stupid. When I get stupid, I do stupid things…like marry and re-marry sounds. What can I say?

DEL THE FUNKEE HOMOSAPIEN | “CATCH A BAD ONE”
“You might win if you start writing.” You know what? Maybe I wanna make THIS song my first ex-wife. [Feeling a cold stare through the monitor from a woman mad annoyed by all this ex-wife talk.] The beat. It’s so….hyp-freaking-notic. Skee-Lo could spit over this beat and it would still be “aight, yo.” Plus you can’t ignore the fact that Del rips this track into mangled shards, dumps said shards into a bag, lights it on fire, then cusses out the ashes. Lyrics, folks. Lyrics.

THE PHARCYDE | “PASSIN’ ME BY”
“There she goes again, the dopest Ethiopian.” When it comes to the classics, the less said the better.

KAM | ‘STILL GOT LOVE 4UM”
“Thought they were smart and got crushed like relish.” Here is a song that was practically tailor made for Old School Spotlight. Just listen to that groove. It just takes you back in time, practically forcing you to reminisce on the good ole days. Now even though the song is dope, the video is funny to me. Why is Kam wearing so many clothes? He’s got a t-shirt on under a long sleeve shirt, and later throws on a jean jacket. It’s LA. You don’t need layers in LA. Like Tommy Chun said, there’s so much gang violence in LA because cats are mad hot.

Diallo Tyson is a filmmaker, comedian and old school music junkie. When he’s not busy, he is a rapper with the group “Two Pimps and a Dream.” Step into a groovin’ time machine every week on UTC.

ShareThis

The sports world is always in search of the next dominant force in the game. Yes the NBA has been valiantly trying to find someone to replace the marketability of Jordan, with Lebron being the closest. However, there is still the quest to find the next “Shaq.” This search is not limited to the men’s game as more and more coaches on the women’s side are also seeking that dominant force in the paint. The thing that has always disturbs me about the whole concept is the damage we do to our youth at a very early age in trying to make them live up to such lofty expectations. You have seen this occurrence take place on playgrounds and courts across the country. Whenever there is a young boy or girl who is taller and bigger than everyone else, coaches and fans alike expect them to take over a game even at the tender age of 11. What people often miss are the feelings of the individual. They fail to appreciate the beauty of their game. If they are not breaking back boards, dunking on someone’s head or sending people flying as they make their move to the basket, they are critical. Nor do they consider for one moment the person’s damaged psyche when they fail to live up to the “Big Man” mystique.

I have personally witnessed the harm this can do. In fact the friend who called to tell me about the passing of the high school all star was expected by many to take the mantle of becoming the next great Big man, but instead his game was not one of brute force, despite being the tallest in his class. His game was more finesse. Think Ralph Sampson as opposed to a younger Patrick Ewing, he had a beautiful jump hook, could run the floor like a gazelle, rebound and when he blocked shots he kept the ball inbounds much like Bill Russell instead of sending the ball to the 5th row.

The fans never truly appreciated his talents, despite helping our high school team win a state championship. He was often the target of crude remarks, jokes and taunts. I use to feel bad for him, especially being his best friend. To his credit he never showed or let the naysayers have the pleasure of seeing how they got to him. He developed a layer of skin so thick, you’d need a diamond tip drill just to break the surface. I use to wonder how he dealt with all of the negative comments. Years later it dawned on me how he dealt with the pain. My friend turned to alcohol to anesthetize the pain and rejection.

Recently, I had the opportunity to coach a young woman who stood 6’4, the tallest player in the school’s history. Not only was she tall, she was built like a wall. She had all of the physical appearances of “Shaq” but her skill level said otherwise. People quickly wrote her off, all of the big universities didn’t give her a second look. I recall while watching one of her high school games another college coach who was in attendance shared his opinion: “What a God given waste of talent and size, she is AWFUL.” I was stunned that a person who is in charge of leading young people and sharing values could make such a disparaging comment. I recruited her anyway, because I saw and appreciated the potential she had, all she needed was someone to believe in her. In fact the line I used to get her to attend my institution was “I’m not recruiting you to be “Shaq.” I want you to be the best player, you can be.” I’ll never forget the look on her face. Finally there was someone who believed in her and appreciated her skills just the way they were.

She was a beautiful person inside and out. We had a great four year run together. During her four years I watched her go through some of the same antics my high school teammate went through, the comments she endured were brutal. “She sucks.” Or, “If I had that height I would..” The fans taunted every facet of her game from physical appearance to her limited skills, and the referees were just as bad. They would allow her get beat up and manhandled on a regular basis, her arms were covered with bruises and scratches. I would give the refs an earful whenever I witnessed this unfair treatment by shouting “Goliath has feelings too” or “there is nothing in the rule book that states if you are bigger or taller than everyone else you should be allowed to take more punishment.”

Unfortunately this is all too common. For some reason just because an athlete is bigger or taller than their peers that somehow disqualifies them from being human or having the same rules apply. The late Wilt Chamberlain could attest to this fact. My center also had an escape mechanism; she would immerse herself in drawing beautiful illustrations of scenery, places that brought her serenity. And we also had long reassuring pep talks affirming that I believed in her. It was because of our relationship that she worked extra hard and gave me everything she had. She played a pivotal role in our successful run during her career.

As the world tunes in for the NBA Finals between the Lakers and the Magic, There are 2 big men who will be on center stage. Orlando’s Dwight Howard and the Lakers’ Andrew Bynum. One of them will play a pivotal role in the series and for the other hopefully he has people around him who truly appreciate and love him just because.

Tony Price is a collegiate athletics administrator and head basketball coach with over 20 years experience as an athlete and instructor. His unique perspective on sports and society are also featured on his blog, “The Darker Shade of Sports,” www.darkershadeofsports.com.

ShareThis

I was reminded of a conversation I had about 15 years ago with a fellow parent at a Pop Warner football game my sons participated in. Both my sons played on an inner-city team and we were playing a suburban team at their very nice field. We engaged in a serious conversation about sports and the opposing views of our parent base versus the white faces staring directly at us from across the field.

We talked about the role of sports in the respective communities (white/black) as we watched the pint size gladiators clash. As we concluded, the brother I was speaking with summarized what we spent the whole time verbalizing in one short profound statement: “in the white community they raise their kids to use sports as a vehicle to access higher educational opportunities, learn team work, run an organization, network, etc. But in the black community, we try to raise pros.” I never forgot that statement.

So, playing the role of an attorney I will present my case as to why I say sports should be classified in the same category as drugs and alcohol for the damage it’s done to the black community.

When you look at the impact of sports on the black community and the tight strangle-hold it has on the community, what have been the overwhelming positive effects? Yes, it has provided a few opportunities for employment, chances to attend certain colleges and universities. Some would argue it’s a healthy activity and kids are learning character. I don’t agree with that philosophy.

I think sports reveals your character, but that’s for another time. A few of our athletes have made it out of the ghetto and financially can help their family and friends. Sports can take you around the world; it brings people from different racial, social and political backgrounds together for a common purpose (root for the home team). These are all true statements, but do the positives outweigh the side effects?

Consider this. Too many of our young people think the only way to make it in life is through sports and entertainment. Many of the athletes that do go on to college never finish their degree requirements, despite using up all 4 years of athletic eligibility. We spend an absurd amount on clothing (sneakers, shorts, etc). Church attendance is down on game days. Thousands of young men put all of their stock in making it to the league, and once the dream ends, they often suffer from depression, shock, guilt, and withdrawal.

If they had the opportunity to play major college ball, many of those young men lived in a world (illusion) created by the universities, one in which they lacked for nothing, they stayed at the best hotels, traveled first class, ate at the finest restaurants, had access to high powered people, groupies, TV exposure, and the best medical attention that money could buy. But once they exit those doors and leave the friendly confines of the school that they gave their hearts and souls to, what happens to them next? Many will end up right back to the place they started; broken, demoralized and sometimes chemically dependent. How else will they get the same pain meds that helped them run for a touchdown or make the big hit at the Sugar Bowl when they are back on mama’s couch with no medical insurance? These are just some of the ill effects of sports dependency.

Additional arguments to support my case:

Exhibit A: Go to any basketball court or playing field and you will see hundreds of guys out there playing not just for the love of the game or to stay in shape, but to recapture past glory, or play in countless semi-pro / recreational leagues in hopes of maybe catching someone’s eye or receiving one more invitation to a free agent camp. I’ve witnessed this vicious cycle first hand, when I dreamt of playing pro-ball in the NBA, CBA, USBL, Europe or anywhere. Coming from a small college, I knew the odds were stacked against me. I attended quite a few free agent camps of semi-pro and start up leagues in hopes of catching on. While at one free agent camp in Atlanta, I saw something that became a sobering reality for me as to how powerful the world of sports had become.

First off, there was a long line of people registering, more people than I ever seen before, and there were two ex-NBA players trying out. One of them was an NBA scoring legend (he was playing when I was a small kid) and the other was just a year or two removed from winning an NBA championship with the Los Angeles Lakers. Yet, here they were in a camp with the rest of us, trying to live that dream.

Something else profound also happened during this camp experience. Myself and a couple of friends were at the motel and we had a chance encounter with the wife of a young man who had just come from a basketball camp in Indiana. He had at least six more camps lined up. This young sister needed to vent, and we were the unsuspecting audience. She shared her frustrations, and it was visible how much she had become worn down. She wanted to support her husbands dream, yet she was getting sick and tired of the traveling and staying in motels and small nowhere towns for days on end. The picture of the powerful addiction of sports was starting to become clearer.

Drugs, alcohol and sports have a lot in common. They are there to take your mind off of daily pressures. There are dealers and pushers. For sports it’s the media and the carefully crafted images of black athletes who appear to have made it. They make you feel good for a moment, but you eventually come crashing down from the high. They are addictive, they are used for entertainment purposes and its no coincidence that when you have a large number of people living within or below poverty, the one thing you can count on is that they will spend just about every dollar on entertainment.

The people on Madison Avenue know this; just check out the type of commercials that air during sporting events!

The poor are preyed on. Look around your community. What type of businesses do you see? Most of them have something to do with entertainment: hair and nail salons, fast food, liquor stores, easy access to check cashing, pay day loans, furniture rental companies, (because you just have to have the Big screen HD TV to watch the games) etc.

Sports are interwoven into our daily lives, especially in this country. But, it must be kept within the proper context. Too many lives have been ruined by its pursuit.

The prosecution rests!

Tony Price is a collegiate athletics administrator and head basketball coach with over 20 years experience as an athlete and instructor. His unique perspective on sports and society are also featured on his blog, “The Darker Shade of Sports,” www.darkershadeofsports.com.

ShareThis

The problem was not the avalanche of summer reality series and the absence of scripted material. We knew that was coming. Last week there were the NBA Finals. Boston and Los Angeles back together. Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce and Ray Allen were going up against the league MVP Kobe Bryant. This week, finished.

Last week, Tiger Woods was winning the U.S. Open. Fresh off of knee surgery, grimacing in pain on what turned out to be a fractured leg, Tiger beat Rocco Mediate in a wildly exciting 19 hole playoff to win his 14th Major Championship. This week, Tiger’s done for the season.

Let me take a moment to point out that I am not referencing the NBA Finals and Tiger because I’m a sports fan (I am) or because I was rooting for KG, Paul and Ray (I was) or because Tiger Woods may be the greatest golfer who’s ever lived and the most compelling active athlete on the planet (he is), but because those two events were the highest-rated programs on television last week. This week…gone.

With all this free television time on my hands there seemed to be no shortage of sad news. After the funeral and tributes to Tim Russert last week, this week George Carlin died. I could have written my entire blog on his contributions to television. The continued flooding in the central states is terribly tragic and hard to watch. Teenage girls allegedly made a pregnancy pact. Charlie Sheen drops the “N” word on a voicemail to his ex and not to be out done, Don Imus makes ANOTHER racial remark. There was plenty more bad news, but I think you get the point.

The good news is next week will be better. I realized that the low was partially my fault. I’m used to looking to television for entertainment first and news second. I tend to overlook education, culture and the offbeat. This week, I will dig deeper for the diamonds in the rough. Shows like “Survivorman” where I learned that in an emergency, Fritos can be used like a torch! (DO NOT try that at home, look for repeats of the show). In addition, the Williams Sisters are in action at Wimbledon, and that is always appointment television.

So let me get my remote!

Darryl Bell is an actor and Chicago native, best known for his roles in classic TV series “A Different World” and Spike Lee’s “School Daze.” His unique television commentary is exclusive to Urban Thought Collective.

ShareThis

I’m sitting here in another hotel room, in yet another country flipping through the 7 television channels that my remote control actually tunes to, despite what the “channel” channel says is available. Actually, it’s more of an inn than hotel. And come to think of it, the term “city” isn’t quite accurate either. The Boston Celtics have just destroyed the Los Angeles Lakers and since there’s no ESPN up here I can’t even tune-in to see the post-game press conference. Damn. I was kind of looking forward to hearing Kobe explain this one after his bed-wetting reference following their last collapse. This was a massacre though. Oh well. With work and travel, I managed to watch a total of 48 contiguous minutes of NBA Finals Basketball just once in six games.

At least dinner was good. Actually, dinner was remarkable and the dessert even better. I’m not at all diggin’ the ground floor accommodations, but the couch, hot tub and fireplace are a nice touch. I had better get some rest as 7am EST is going to come awfully quick to my Pacific Standard time body that has been awake since 4:45 AM to make my early flight out of SFO.

Wednesday June 18, 2008

“What IS that?” I thought to myself as the shrill sounds emanating from my cell phone/alarm clock shook me from a deep slumber. The wrong side of the bed is surely where I have awoken on this fine morning. Shaking myself out of a foul mood and saying my morning “thank you for waking me one more time, Lord…,” I dropped to the floor and knocked out 30 push-ups, headed over to open the drapes and let the sunshine in, and was struck by the sheer magnificence of this place. In the darkness of last evening, it appeared as though I was retiring to some sort of cabin bunkhouse but the morning light has made it glaringly apparent that 45.5 degrees N latitude, 78.3 W longitude is most definitely neither inn, nor hotel, but indeed 100% resort. The Couples Resort to be exact. Still not totally coherent since I was unable to immediately fall out last night until the couple that were apparently my upstairs neighbors had finished, well…, “coupling,” I was quickly overcome by the serenity of the picturesque lake just below the deck outside my sliding glass door. The silence of this morning was so loud that I could almost hear it. So entranced was I that I probably would have walked out there in my boxers had it not been a cool and drizzly 10 C (that’s 50 degrees Fahrenheit for us Yankees).

Down the shore a little ways, I could see boats and canoes near a small pier and straight across the water were quaint little cottages set perfectly against a backdrop of Algonquin Park, Ontario, Canada forest. It looked like a postcard…or a Henry Fonda movie, or maybe both.

My co-worker and I rolled in here looking every bit as out of place as a 5’9” middle-aged Italian man from Philadelphia wearing shorts and argyle socks with some loafers and a 6’7” brotha in a baseball hat and Adidas sweat suit from Oakland, California could look amidst the myriad of honeymooners and anniversary celebrants here in the rural, Great White North. I was just waiting for the inter-racial Chuck and Larry reference to be whispered within earshot at any moment. Let it never be said that my business trips don’t put me in some interesting situations.

We’re here to remedy the limited selection of television options by installing our product line’s Video On Demand system offering. Now, anyone that knows me is quite aware that I’ll take the city life over the sticks any day (I’d be the brotha in the Marriott just outside the entrance to Yosemite). That said, however, it is beyond me why anyone would be doing anything in their room (save for enjoying the hot tub, the view from the deck, or the aforementioned “coupling”) with all of the amenities of this full service resort at their disposal, not to mention this awe-inspiring scenery. If I weren’t going to be locked in a room with my laptop, several servers and a mess of cables, I’d surely go for a hike, boat out on this lake, and set up a massage appointment at the spa. They even have an art gallery here and ATV’s for the more adventurous.

Thursday June 19, 2008

Yesterday proved to be another particularly frustrating day in the server room as we couldn’t get things working quite right and much of today was no different. However, as my career as an engineer has afforded me to experience exotic locales and exquisite cuisines, I’m forever looking on the bright side, even amidst the technical difficulties. The highlight of each of my three days here has been (you guessed it) the food. But these weren’t just meals.

“You can’t drink cristal to this one, you gotta drink crist-All…” Jay-Z from “Excuse Me Miss”

These were gastro experiences. Calling them meals would not be nearly putting enough on them, and dining in the private chambers of the resort owner, just off the kitchen and being waited on hand and foot by the gracious staff was an added bonus. Executive Chef Ronnie Copens really put his foot into every one of the meals he prepared for me. Having a plethora of options from which to choose on the first 2 pages of the menu and a page full of Chef’s special selections on page 3, I decided to mix and match on Tuesday, choosing the quail on a bed of mushroom risotto for my entrée from the chef’s specials and the baked brie in a phyllo pastry as one of my appetizers. This may arguably be one of the best appetizers I have ever had the pleasure to devour.

The chicken Caesar salad wrap that I had for lunch on Wednesday was so good that I decided to break one of my cardinal rules, allowing Chef Ronnie’s expert selections completely guide me for the remainder of my dinners, Wednesday’s being an absolutely divine pistachio encrusted pork tenderloin with almond mashed potatoes. (Big shots out to Tanya the dessert chef who restored my faith in tiramisu and made a latte cheesecake with mascarpone that Eli’s ought to think about mass producing.

Said my co-worker as we walked out of this proverbial last supper with heavy hearts, realizing that we’d both be sitting in coach tomorrow morning paying $8 to eat a grammar-school-cafeteria-quality sandwich and sipping apple juice from a plastic cup with ice cubes the size of Gibraltar, “This is actually that rare business trip that I don’t wanna leave.” Ronnie sent us off right with a cut of veal so big as to make an Argentinian do a double take and and so tender that the knife cut through it like butter.

Somehow I don’t think the Sheraton in Philadelphia is quite going to measure up next week.

Destah Owens is a single father of two from Northern California and proud UCLA Bruin who travels the world for his job as a computer engineer. His blog, “Souffles in Saigon,” is exclusive to Urban Thought Collective.

ShareThis

Biases:
This looks bad AND has the Jessica Alba stank of disapproval.

Players:
Actor/co-writer Mike Meyers, Jessica Alba, Romany Malco, Justin Timberlake

Logline:
Determined to make the “Oprah Show” and become “the next Deepak Chopra,” celebrity love guru His Holiness Guru Pitka (Meyers), author of countless self-help books like “If You’re Happy and You Know It, Think Again,” takes on Darren “The Tiger Woods of Hockey” Roanoke (Malco), whose break-up with his wife Prudence (Meagan Good) renders him useless during the Toronto Maple Leafs’ run in the Stanley Cup Finals, much to the horror and chagrin of beleaguered (some would say cursed) owner Jane Bullard (Alba).

The Deal:
Strap in. THE REEL DEAL is about to go on one…

Unredeemable. Distractingly gross. Unforgivably unfunny. Pick an insult and it’s true – “The Love Guru” is NOT for you.

I’m tempted to just string together my notes, as sparse as they are, instead of writing a real (REEL) review, as that would make even more sense than this cinematic abortion brought to full term called “The Love Guru.” Nothing about this movie makes any sense, including the participation of everyone involved not named Mike Meyers. It’s as if every pet project or interest the overly-indulged Meyers ever had is vomited onscreen lacking anything mildly comprehensible or entertaining about them. Quizzically cameo-laden, “Guru” is crass, horned up, infantile, illogical, and an utter waste of time.

No, I’m not done! The plot, as amusing as it could have been, devolves into a bunch of lame, loosely connected and random puns that don’t add up to a damn thing. Even the Lakers scored more in the fourth quarter of Game 6 than do Meyers exasperating attempts at offending the not-so-delicate sensibilities and low expectations of the average American moviegoer. He out juveniles Juvenile, and makes “Tyler Perry’s House of Payne” look like “Seinfeld” in comparison. Half the time, Meyers has to turn to the camera and explain his jokes to the audience by breaking the fourth wall because THEY JUST ARE NOT FUNNY. Even worse, Meyers’ Guru Pitka isn’t even original, Meyers being content to repeat himself by pureeing some of the best bits from other characters to form the worst one of all.

Myers’ Guru Pitka is a sexually-repressed, chastity belt-wearing, knuckle-tatted silkscreen of a character, mugging his overactive eyebrows at every opportunity like a charmless Austin Powers submerged under a goofy, shaky East Indian accent. Meyers’ Guru Pitka is a joke, but the joke is on him (or YOU if you pay to see this movie after this review).

But it’s a bad, bad joke. The kind of joke that sloppy barflies tell thirty minutes after sobriety and thirty minutes before puking. The kind that has good, comic talent-on-the-rise like Romany Malco totally wasted. The kind that fumbles Justin Timberlake’s smirk-worthy departure as the super French-Canadian, Celine Dion-lovin’, veryveryvery well endowed rival goaltender Jacques “Le Coq” Grande’, whose…gift(s) is used to abscond with Roanoke’s very hot wife (a no-dimensional, but preternaturally attractive Meagan Good). The kind of joke that has me wondering/writing midway through the film “Will Jessica Alba ever act again?” (Magic 8-ball says, “Outlook not so good.”). Could she ever act or were we just mesmerized by her “Fantastic” “Dark Angel” “Honey” of a body? Is she a cleverly disguised Trojan horse designed by the Axis of Evil to lower male IQ points and leave us susceptible to nefarious mind control? These are all thoughts I’m actually thinking as I zone in and out of my coma-like experience of “Love.”

Easily the least entertaining time I have had at the theater this year (yes, haters, even worse than “Meet the Browns”) – and I saw this for free – “The Love Guru” needs to help itself before it can even think of helping others. Step one? Someone tell Mike Meyers “no” every once in awhile. Do it with your wallets, as I will do it with mine. Time for an intervention.

0 REELS
(ZERO REELS)
I’d rather light my skin on fire. Twice.

UTC’s resident film critic Edwardo Jackson is the author of the novels EVER AFTER and NEVA HAFTA, (Villard/Random House), a writer for The 213 Magazine, and an LA-based screenwriter. Visit his website at www.edwardojackson.com where his new novel I DO? is available NOW.

ShareThis

I’m back, and in this one short week, a lot has happened to me. I’ve seen a lot of things, heard some inspirational people talk, and observed hundreds of people starting their day. I wanna share something with you that we rarely acknowledge, and often take advantage of, but it made my day just a lil bit better.

My daily ritual is as follows: I get up at 6:00 AM and head to the Starbucks in Sherman Oaks, California. This is about a 35-minute commute, so depending on my mood, (and hunger) I’ve been known to purchase a Venti Caramel Frapuccino with light whip cream and an egg and black forest ham breakfast sandwich, while I wait on my work shift to begin at 9:00 AM in Studio City, California.

I have a good amount of time to myself before heading to work. I’m either on my laptop trying to get an internet connection, writing my book, zoning out to the lyrics and melody of Musiq Soulchild’s fourth album on my Ipod, or just simply observing the “breakfast club.” I get the chance to watch everyone from children to high school students to adults trying to get their boost for the day.

Everyone seems to be your “average Joe.” There are your average income adults who purchase coffee for themselves and the folks who pull up in Range Rovers and Mercedes Benz’s and purchase coffee for the whole company. Nevertheless, I sit and take note, and watch how people act and relate to each other while they stand in a line that’s always just about out the door.

My big surprise and shock is that you can get inspiration and hear the kindest words and conversations from the people you would never expect. For example, on Monday, a less-than-fortunate (I really don’t like the term ‘homeless’) man that wasn’t dressed too nice was going thru the garbage looking for recyclable bottles and cans right next to where I was posted up on the wall waiting for my ride to arrive. Sad to admit, but just like any average human, I paid him no mind and tried not to make eye contact with him for fear he would ask me for some spare change or something.

However, he said “excuse me” with dread, but he continued with his question anyway… “Did you see that game last night? The Lakers got cheated by those Celtics. Those refs couldn’t be any blinder, could they? And when Derek Fisher got fouled on the last shot, the refs didn’t call anything! I can’t wait ‘til they come home Tuesday. I just got tickets to the game!”

Of course, I was shocked; I certainly didn’t expect him to ask me about a basketball game! He began to tell me how he has a good job, but was off that day, and because ‘some people’ are so wasteful, that he comes behind them and makes a few extra bucks from their thrown away cans and bottles. I immediately gained respect for him, and I felt horrible on the inside for what I assumed about him just moments prior.

To this day, I strongly feel that God was testing me, to see if I had a meek and humble attitude about my fellow brother as he instructs us to do in the Bible. Or, maybe God was seeing if I would have an attitude of ‘giving and helping’ and play the “Good Samaritan” role, or turn my back on my own brother. The bible says that we should love our neighbor as ourselves. Do we? We all would like to believe that we would help anyone out in just about any circumstance, and that ‘if he thirsts, we shall give him drink,’ right? But how many of us really live by that scripture… really?

Well I can honestly say that from that experience, I have a different perspective of those who ‘appear’ to be less fortunate. For we know not what their story is. It reminded me that things aren’t always as they seem to be.

I have a challenge for you all. The next time you’re in a situation with someone who appears to be less than you, don’t turn your back, stereotype, or look down on them. Instead, lend a helping hand and make yourself available. You never know what’s behind those clothes… or better yet, who.

Who knew I would get a wonderful message like this over a harmless breakfast in Cali?

Torian Salery is a senior at Troy University in Alabama, studying Broadcast Journalism and Public Relations. He is interning at a black woman owned PR & marketing firm in Los Angeles. His observations on his summer experiences are exclusive to Urban Thought Collective.

ShareThis

ODB | “BROOKLYN ZOO”
“You go’n loooove this.” I do miss the unfettered insanity of ODB. At first I thought he was a clown, but then I warmed up to him. I’m not sure when the light finally came on, but when it did I just couldn’t get enough. Every time this song comes on in the car, I damn near wreck because it gets me so amped up. He also gets respect for introducing “nuh” into the English language. Gotta love the edited version. R.I.P. Russell Jones.

JAY-Z FT. UGK | “BIG PIMPIN’”
“Now what ya’ll know about them Texas boys?” You gotta say it with that “suthun drawl.” If you’re not from the south, you may not understand the power that UGK wielded in the mid 90’s. True to their name, they were indeed Underground Kings. Their catalogue is littered with classics. Don’t bother trying to argue with me in the comments, cause I will ignore you like Taye Diggs ignores black women. R.I.P Chad Butler.

THE PHARCYDE | “RUNNING”
Nope no one from the Pharcyde is dead, although the same probably can’t be said of their careers. At any rate, this track was produced by J-Dilla. Come to find out, he produced about half of “LabCabinCalifornia.” I had no idea he had been putting in work all they way back in ’95. Unfortunately, I’m kind of late to the party when it comes to Dilla. But I have the internet and Limewire on my side, so I shall be brought up to speed real quick. R.I.P James Dewitt Yancey.

BIG PUN FT. JOE | “STILL NOT A PLAYER”
“Boriqua. Morena. Boriqua. Morena.” I remember being in Key West, drunker than a drunk-ass drunk, dancing my arse off to this song. Well, at least I thought I was. I was probably just dancing my integrity away. I couldn’t help it though. This is one of those songs that forces you onto the dance floor, even if your only option is an ugly chick with bad breath. Joe and Pun made it all better. R.I.P Chis Rios.

And now…for something a little smoothed out….

MINNIE RIPERTON | “BABY, THIS LOVE I HAVE”
Minnie had one of the sweetest voices ever. Unfortunately, her life was cut tragically short. If you don’t know who she is, you definitely need to look her up on the net. Meanwhile, check out this classic jam that is definitely on point.

ShareThis