Misrepresented People

Adidas is catching heat after they announced a shoe that was supposedly "so hot that you'll shackle them to your feet." Basically it was a shoe that came with ankle cuffs.

[caption id="attachment_2344" align="alignnone" width="347"] The Adidas "Air Slaves"[/caption]

I'm not sure who the hell was sitting in that meeting, but they obviously weren't black. Or maybe they were. If I hated the company I worked for then I'd sit by idly as these were unveiled. I wouldn't say, "Don't you realize that these shoes are the equivalent of "letting our powers combine" and summoning Captain Planet Al Sharpton. (Earth, Fire, Racism, Stereotypes, Pissed off Black people...Go SHARPTON!) Al Sharpton was busy putting out a forest fire so his alternate Jessie Jackson stepped in and the shoes have since been scrapped.

I'm conflicted. On the one hand I think:

Why is everything selectively racist? It's not like prisoners don't wear shackles. Black people weren't the only slaves in history, although we were the chef's special for a while here in The States. Plus, I'm certain there would be a line of ignorant bastards standing outside the mall to buy them. We need to be upset that they're running around rehashing all of the stereotypes propagated during the Jim Crow era immediately following slavery. They're the ones running around tatted up with ugly gold fronts, dusty wifebeaters, spandex pants and a treasure trove of misplaced values. Our house is collapsing on the inside and we're too busy standing outside raking leaves trying to preserve the exterior facade.

But then I think:

I have enormous respect for Jessie Jackson and Reverend Al, as I wrote in a previous post but sometimes I feel like they're those kids who used to come to the water gun fight with just a cup of water. Yeah, they're effective if they hit you but most times it's a swing and a miss. Still, I understand where they're coming from. They come from an era where Stokely, Martin, Malcolm, Rosa, Huey and the other Superfriends had to fight so that we could do basic shit like walk in the front door. They are all that remain of the warriors who marched forward through the gates of hell to bring hope, equality and choice back home. And now they stand guard protecting it the best that they can. They won't let so much as a gnat get through if it looks like it might be carrying a speck of bacteria that resembles racism.

In the end, I can't blame them for that and I know that they're worried because no one is around to replace them when they're gone and, worst of all, it seems like we're destroying ourselves from within.

Assemble!

I've always been a pretty guarded person. There's an invisible fence that keeps the crazies out. Sometimes it's too effective and I either come off as antisocial or too quiet and serious. Once you get an ID badge and make it inside the perimeter, you'll probably think that I talk too much and liken me to the gremlin who bounced off the walls and came out nutty. Although between you and me, I think he's just discovered the healing power of laughter.

[caption id="attachment_2326" align="alignnone" width="300"] Me: Age 3[/caption]

Anyway, as a general rule I tend to keep about five close friends. Anything more than that is hard to manage and a logistical nightmare. In recent years however, I've had to let some people go. They weren't bad people or anything. They were hard workers and great when we were in the start-up phase, but once we went public (got married) and started having to answer to shareholders (the baby) I found that they just weren't aligned with my vision of where the company was headed. They got a lovely severance package though. Hell, some are like Milton from Office Space and don't even know that they've been fired.

But this leads to a new problem. We're severely short staffed and I've been totally lackadaisical in the hiring process. That's where my wife comes in. She's taken it upon herself to do the recruiting and she's kinda gone Agent Coulson on me. For the non-geeks, that's the guy in the suit in Iron Man, Thor and the Avengers movie. She's set off on her own roaming from place to place looking for people to bring into our organization. Preferably married people with kids under the age of 40.

[caption id="attachment_2327" align="alignnone" width="259"] I promise she looks better than this in real life[/caption]

Well this weekend she discovered Thor's Hammer in the middle of Southeast. Not only did she find a nice interracial couple with a kid (that's like a two for one special because our team is in serious need of diversity), but apparently their kid's mutant power supersedes that of my kid. My daughter knows a few hundred words and is handy with a sniper rifle, but their kid can speak in complete sentences, dance and bend spoons with her mind. Plus she's a few months younger than my daughter.

Now personally I think we should do like they do in Highlander and make the two of them have a sword fight in the middle of Anacostia Park. (In the end there can be only one) But my wife thinks that it would be more logical for me to pull my eye patch and leather coat out of storage and go do my Sam Jackson/Nick Fury routine.

[caption id="attachment_2330" align="alignnone" width="214"] Hey kid, I want to talk to you about The Avengers Initiative[/caption]

It sounds promising, so I think I'll give it a try. If we can't save the Earth, you can be damned sure we'll avenge it.

Man Attacks Child At Bus Stop

Here's a gem of an article that I saw on the news today. A woman was at the bus stop with her three year old when a guy at the bus stop told her to stop the kid from crying. When she didn't, the man punched the kid in the head and then punched the mom when she tried to intervene. He then fled on foot.

That's why you always have to be on guard in this god-forsaken city. You never know what idiot will attack you or your kid. Of course you never know what you'll do until you're in that situation, but I have a few ideas. So let's say it was me. The article would read like this.

Man Attacks Child At Bus Stop

Residents are on guard Friday afternoon after a man punched a 3-year-old child at the bus stop. According to witnesses, the child was crying and the man told the father, "Shut that kid up." The father of the child reportedly responded, "Hello kind sir. I apologize that my child is making too much noise for you. Perhaps thou wouldst prefer the bus stop eighteen fathoms away?"

The man then punched the child in the face. Witnesses provide conflicting accounts of what happened next, however police confirmed that when they arrived on the scene they found the father on top of the man who was unconscious and bleeding profusely. The attacker was rushed to a nearby hospital where he is currently being treated for a fractured skull, broken jaw, dislocated retina, dislocated shoulder, broken wrists, broken arms, stigmata-type wounds to the hands and feet, deep lacerations to the face, neck and upper torso area, as well as second and third degree burns. He is currently in critical condition.

The child was treated on the scene and taken to a local hospital as a precautionary measure, but was released shortly after. The father is not being charged with any crime as witnesses corroborated his claim that it was self defense.

Father's Day

The movie Parenthood (1989) always sticks with me. The movie starts off with the child version of Steve Martin's character being left alone at a baseball game by his father. It flashes forward to the present where you see grown-up Steve Martin at the game with his own kids and carrying an armful of souvenirs and barely able to make it to the car.

[caption id="attachment_2320" align="alignnone" width="460"] That's basically me[/caption]

Everyone has their own list of things that they feel their parents did wrong. It's one of the fringe benefits of being a kid, you have 18 years to jot down notes that you plan to read aloud as you thrust their wheelchairs full speed through the entrance of the retirement home. Even though I have my own list, I don't have "bitter child syndrome." Everyone knows a person who finds a way to turn the most arbitrary statements into a segue about their childhood.

Me: "I just made some lemonade."
Person: "My mother once sold my little sister for a jar of lemonade."
Me: "???"

While I think that there is definitely a phone book full of talking points regarding my upbringing, I recognize that there were a lot of success points. I never had to hold a teddy bear to show a judge where someone touched me. No one ever beat me for shits and giggles and to my knowledge (assuming this is my real family) I've never been sold for rocks. So I'd call my childhood a success.

Still, I'll always remember those "talking points" and, like Steve Martin's character in the movie, I'm just trying to do better. And also like him I'll probably overdo it. When I was little we never really went anywhere except the shopping mall. So today we went bike riding down the Mt. Vernon Trail. We rode to the airport and watched the planes take off while my daughter "chased them." We went over the bridge to the Jefferson Memorial where I let her do her Rocky thing and run up and down the stairs until she was tired. Then we stopped and had a picnic under a tree near the water. I fed her Gerber Spaghetti while she waterboarded me with her sippy cup. Then we came home, shared a popsicle and watched Sesame Street until she fell asleep.

I'm tired as hell now, but I only have 16 more years to go before she'll be done with her list. And if I play my cards right then hopefully the worst thing on the list will be, "When I have kids of my own I'm gonna give them some space!"

Ovation.

Since the good ones don't get enough recognition...here ya go.

Superdad

It's an article about a single dad who took his one year old daughter to college with him. Meanwhile I'm still typing today's post.

Give Us Free!

June 13, 2000

It's hard to believe that I graduated from high school 12 years ago today. Sadly, there's no fascinating story attached to that day. I hated high school, so that day was more like getting out of prison than anything else. It's kinda funny though, because whenever I replay that day in my head I always see it play out with the same fanfare as when Nelson Mandela got out of prison.

In my head there's a big crowd gathered in front of the Cramton Auditorium at Howard University all chanting my name. The news choppers are circling the area while in a small shanty some old woman is clutching a bible with tears welling up in her eyes as the camera pans out to show a church full of people all singing Amazing Grace. At the bottom of the screen a banner reads "Ordale Allen Freed!"

Yeah, I hated high school. It was a sanctuary for nerds that advertised itself like Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It was to be a place where all of the kids who'd ever been bullied for being smart could come and express their own individual genius free from intimidation from lesser minds. It wasn't until after you got there that you realized it was a concentration camp. They worked the hell out of us to the point that there wasn't room for a band or a football team or a homecoming or anything not book related.

I managed to have some fun. I took full advantage of the whole "no one will judge you" thing. When we had Spirit Week, I always went all out. For Bamma Day (mismatch day) I came as "Homeless Man" wearing a dress, safety patrol belt, sweat pants, mismatched Timberlands and a towel around my neck for a cape. For Multicultural Day I dressed in army fatigues, carried my little sister's Barbie walkie talkie and a Super Soaker. I told everyone I was an Iraqi Terrorist. (This was a joke you could get away with pre-911) I even "kidnapped" my girlfriend from one of her classes. For 70s day I put on one of my grandfather's suits, some thick brown rimmed glasses with bifocals and a fedora. I put a pocketbook strap around a stuffed dog and dragged it around the school saying "Heel Duke! Down boy!" I told people I thought it was 70s Day as in "70-year old people" day. My girlfriend took the cake though. She came in a bonnet with a worn out dress and walked around school barefoot with a broom. She said that since they weren't specific, she was celebrating 1770s Day and was a slave.

Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Who the hell am I kidding. It was horrible. I'm glad to be out!

Father Kills Man Sexually Abusing His Daughter

Article here.

Part of me says that I shouldn't post this because it makes me seem like I'm applauding murder. Maybe one day in the future I'll apply for a job, they'll google me and see this post and use it as justification for not hiring me. Perhaps one day I'll realize how much the world needs me and I'll decide to save it from itself by running for political office. Then someone will point to this as a blemish on my character.

The other part of me says, "You have a two year old daughter and you see creepy men staring at her from time to time with their hands in their pants pockets." Then I'm reminded of all the girls I've met over the years who are scarred from something bad that happened to them when their parents turned their backs for just a second.

I've had my fair share of chance encounters with women in high school and college that could've gone one way  but instead turned into "Ordale J. Allen: Grief Counselor" therapy sessions. Some were just skeezers, but an overwhelming majority of the girls I've met over the years have a skeleton in their closet of some family member or friend of the family doing something to them.

That's part of the reason why I sat in the doctor's office on D-Day with my head in my hands when they said "and those specks right there are the lips of the vagina." I promised myself that day that even if I couldn't protect her from everything, I'd die trying. And that's why you better go through a f*cking Congressional vetting session before you even consider asking to babysit my kid.

So my heart goes out to this guy. Killing his kid's attacker won't undo the damage. That's there for life. And while I'm not advocating murdering someone, in the word's of Chris Rock, "I'm not saying he should've killed [him]....BUT I UNDERSTAND!"