Category Archives: Simply Stan

Today’s Word is… TWENTYTWENTY

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So they say the three things you’re not supposed to discuss publicly; religion, because well touchy subject.  Salary, because they want to keep wages stagnant (the other day a colleague casually mentioned they lived in the Seaport district [apartments start at $2500] and I almost responded, “the hell are they paying yo ass?”), and politics, because like religion, it’s considered a touchy subject.  This always sounded white as hell because only white people can chalk up the 2016 election to “difference of opinion”.  Over here tween Normandy and Western,  if you voted for Trump, you the opps and I need to know this so I can treat you accordingly.  But since we folks (and hi random person who clicked a google link) I will break this politics rule and make a confession:

I’m not really feeling any of these people running in 2020

We’re less than a year away from Iowa and I’m largely meh on the field.  If the primary was tomorrow and I had to vote I’d vote for [REDACTED], but I don’t even think [REDACTED] even has a chance of winning the nomination.  If I so much as to tweet a candidate’s name I get a bunch of people (or bots) swarming my mentions and I almost fear for a 2016 repeat.  Someone had likened it to a Cheesecake Factory menu, where you just have so many options that you are either verklempt or just don’t trust anything.  Like you can’t be good at lasagna AND pho, one of them has to be off.  And that’s pretty much this 2020 Democratic field, they all can kinda maybe work but also just not be it. (Like, I really dislike [REDACTED] and think [REDACTED] brings absolutely nothing to the table but if they end up with the nomination, then what?). And so, we’re left with a crowded field of like 8 middle aged white guys in dress shirts with no ties, a handful of people we thought we liked more 3 years ago, and a bunch of possibles.  Since 1972, primary parties have averaged 10 candidates, we’re at 21?  Even the clown show that was the Republican primary in 2016 topped out at 17.  But when the bar is at least 35 years old, American, and smarter than Donald Trump, the Presidency is a Tinder profile.

Like that aforementioned Tinder, I feel like I’m forced to take what I can get because the alternative is this treasonous vapid circus peanut.  It feels like the electorate is in that same boat,  with the Alyssa Milanos  (does she still act, I feel like I only hear about her on Twitter) of the world pledging to not badmouth any candidate publicly. A little while ago, I made a joke about Booker’s make believe thug friend T Bone and  I got a DM of how dare I tear a man down and it’s people like me who are going to ensure a re-election.  Like, first of all he’s polling at 1% higher than me, and secondly that T-Bone shit is just funny.  The electorate as it stands now isn’t engaged, they’re terrified.  Like an episode of scared straight, people are flocking to [REDACTED] simply because they feel like he’d win in the general when he’s barely released a platform.  The same people who are retroactively annoyed by Obama’s centrist ways are seemingly okay with [REDACTED], who is 10x worse.

Behaviorial scientists believe that choice overload will ultimately lead to more disappointed, reluctant, unenthused voters.  Like most users on Netflix binge the same 4 shows rather than be overwhelmed by the catalog.  (Seriously, how many damn times can you watch The Office)  They conclude that even the most informed engaged voter will exhaust themselves trying to give everyone a fair look.  There’s optimists who believe a crowded field means everyone has a horse in the race and so they will follow more closely.  Personally, I’m waiting for the caucuses to clean some of this mess up.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… SPOILER

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For most of America by April 28, 2019 at 10:30pm, they will have either watched Avengers: Endgame or Game of Thrones or both. If you hadn’t you will have logged on social media and been spoiled by memes and reactions from either.  Or you been under a rock.  It’s hard to avoid spoilers when we carry around “the water cooler” in our pockets every day.  I’m in the middle when it comes to spoilers; I hate being spoiled and try not to spoil things for others but there’s also a sense of entitlement in “don’t talk about this huge pop culture thing because I plan on getting around to it eventually, and I can’t just log off for an extended period of time.” I’d make an exception for movies or if someone explicitly asks not to spoil it, or they’re literally in the middle of indulging.  When it comes to live TV it’s different; it’d be like not discussing the Super Bowl until Tuesday so everyone can have a chance to watch. But we live in a self important social media age and so everyone likes to believe the world revolves around their schedule. (Okay, maybe I’m not so in the middle).  

Narratively speaking, good storytelling is about the journey not the destination.  If the only thing that’s interesting about the story IS the twist then that is just poor writing (Yes Sixth Sense, I’m looking at you.) If you only read a book or watched a movie to just know what happened, you’d read the last chapter, watch the last 10 minutes, and never revisit anything.  I watched Game of Thrones a little late, I know there was a jaw dropping Red Wedding episode and people really was excited when Joffrey died.  I knew they was coming, I didn’t know when and when they did I was just as surprised as I would’ve been otherwise. Oh, spoiler alert. (Also, I feel like announcing the spoiler alert is almost daring the person to be spoiled, anyway).  While I can appreciate suspense and surpises, it’s not wholly necessary for my enjoyment.  I actually had Endgame spoiled for me, I didn’t realize I was spoiled until it actually happened in the movie at which point I made a note to block that person.  On principle.  But it didn’t take away from my enjoyment of the film.

But that’s just me.  For the masses, I would say most people don’t want to be spoiled (even if studies show that being spoiled has no affect on the overall experience but hey) and so there’s the spoiler commandments:

  1. Always lead with “did you see/watch _________” before just blurting a reaction or posting a meme in the groupchat.
  2. The theater bathroom is not the place to discuss the movie; piss, wash your hands and go
  3. It’s only a spoiler if you believe it.
  4. No one cares, California. Just log off.  Eastern Standard Time, ho
  5. If they tell you where they are, or you’re rewatching with someone who hasn’t seen it yet, don’t “oooh oooh this part coming up tho”, shut up
  6. Talking about what happened in the source material is still spoiling
  7. Use hashtags and spell them correctly for people who want to mute
  8. It’s not a spoiler if you’re like a season behind
  9. Reality shows and biopics don’t count
  10. If it’s a leak…don’t you fucking dare.
  11. Don’t be a dick about it.

-Stan-

 

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Today’s Word is… MONSTERS

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Here in Boston, our minds and hearts are with the family of Jassy Correia, a 23 year old mother who was first reported missing after getting separated from her friends at a local club, then tragically her body was found in the trunk of a car of the suspect in Delaware.  This coming just over a month after another woman, Olivia Ambrose was reported missing after getting separated from her friends at a local bar.  (Thankfully, she was found alive several days later, and tragically she had been taken and held against her will).  In both cases, I couldn’t help but be taken aback by the immediate reaction of “so where the fuck were her friends?” I’m sure people reading this right now had the same reaction.  I’m not even going to say that it’s wrong, just misdirected.  The only person responsible for Jassy Correia’s death is her killer.  Not her, not her friends,  not her babysitter, not the club. It’s the reality of rape culture, in a perfect world women wouldn’t have to be taught to travel in packs, never take your eyes off a drink, send locations to friends…but this world is far from perfect and if Jassy had not been separated from friends, she could’ve got taken in a uber, just snatched walking down the street, attacked in her home by someone she trusted.  We’re surrounded by monsters.

It’s a fear I don’t have as a man.  I’m far enough removed from the life I used to live that I don’t even think about other hoods. If my boy leaves the party with a random woman, I don’t fear for his safety.  Hell, I tell a nigga be safe he might get offended (when you think about it, it is ridiculous that we get defensive about that but hey, fragile masculinity or whatever).  Our monsters are the ones who are supposed to protect and serve but that’s a topic for another day.  I think about how I had the same curfew as my older sisters, the reaction to me dating in comparison to theirs and how women are raised to survive rape culture more than men are raised to fight it.  Even as someone who likes to consider himself as being raised with some got damn sense.

Jassy should be home with her daughter right now.  Olivia is going to have to deal with those horrifying 3 days for the rest of her life.  Women across the world constantly having to deal with living among the monsters.  As a man, I’ve had to accept that while I’m not a monster I fit the description of one.  While I’m in the party with good vibes and intentions, to her I’m still a stranger and possible monster.   I think about how men talk about the cockblocking homegirl, the girl with the RBF who ain’t trying to talk to anybody, the girl who is only there to dance with her friends and the mild inconvenience of not being able to get a shot off pales in comparison to her overall safety and comfort.  Screaming #NotAllMen to the heavens don’t erase the reality that there’s still men who are.  (Probably the main ones screaming #notallmen).  The energy used to show you aren’t a monster can be used to hold accountable the ones who are, and being aware and vigilant.  You don’t have to be a hero, but you have to be decent.  If not, we’re coming for you too.

-Stan-

 

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Today’s Word is… BEG

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I’m gon swallow my pride, say I’m sorry.  Stop pointing fingers; the blame is on me. I want a new life, and I want it with you.  If you feel the same, don’t ever let it go…

That’s that good ol fashioned begging R&B.  That I can’t eat, I can’t sleep shit.  Wanya made up a whole spirit to get his queen back.  We don’t even know what he did. But he sorry.  (probably a break baby…then again Boys II Men are too lame to cheat, he probably just ignored her call and overreacted).  Gen Xers lament that music don’t have this same level of vulnerability, today’s R&B is too passive aggressive, too prideful.  Because well, millennials are passive aggressive and prideful.  It’s not baby please take me back, it’s more like damn, I wanted to marry you one day. Welp.  The vulnerability starts and ends at acknowledgement that they might not be good at this love shit.  They aren’t going to DO anything about it, but at least they know now.  I could include myself in that same vulner-ish category (I mean, well, it’s been well documented here).  While millennials are flighty, we’re also lazy so that leads to a large number of couples breaking up, getting back together, breaking up again, getting a Tinder, remembering dating is trash, getting back together, moving in together, seeing their friends from college get married, wonder why they aren’t at that point yet, getting a puppy, one person really wants to get married, they getting another puppy instead, they break up and even though there’s two dogs, someone gets both.  Perhaps this generation doesn’t beg because there’s too many options (or at least the appearance of such).

Personally, I’m admittedly too proud to beg, at least at this point in my life.  I’d fight for my wife, I’d fight for my family, a girlfriend? Girlfriiiiiiiiend *Soulja Boy voice*  It gets a little more dicey.  Frankly, I just don’t believe it works.  Even when it does, you never get the same person back, never get the same relationship back.  Begging is easy when it’s a surface issue, like infidelity.  You fucked up, you know exactly what you did wrong and how to fix it.  Apologize and behave from this day forward. Problem. Solution. Now, it’s just an “up and down” in your relationship story.  (and no one loves telling that story more than a man who cheated and got forgiven.  He”s gonna bring it up in every birthday post, every anniversary, if you die first it’s going in the eulogy). Never mind whatever issues led up to the infidelity or even acknowledgment of the fact that you might not even be ready for this relationship you just lost because it’s now simply about the cheating.

When it get’s more difficult is when the issue isn’t something surface, but foundational.  I’m not happy, I just can’t do this right now, how do you beg to be with someone who just feels like the timing isn’t right?  (Spoiler: You don’t, they just don’t want you).  It’s one thing to be left when you clearly violated the relationship, it’s another when they just don’t want the relationship anymore.  Damn trying to get them back you’re still taken aback by the fact that they decided they didn’t want YOU anymore.  It’s a different blow to the ego than I got caught cheating.   Sure, you can just swallow your pride and accept all blame like Wanya, and now you’re in the same position as the cheater, fighting tirelessly to fix a relationship while the other person holds the leverage.  And you didn’t even do anything wrong, you just don’t want to lose this person.  Maybe they’re worth it.

I’ve had relationships end and deep down, I knew if I just called, begged, made a gesture, forgave things would work themselves out…Hell, there were times I did.  It worked for a few more months, but over time I was still me, she still her and our issues still our issues.  Or I found myself being the only one truly invested in keeping the relationship togehter.  Then there was times where I just…let it go.  You leave and the door locks behind you.  Breaking up, making up and begging only prolongs the inevitable.  Sometimes things have just run their course, or you want different things, or no matter how hard you try there’s too much baggage and the slate will never be clean.  And that’s ok.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… GILLETTE

I’m never buying a Gillette razor again!

I’m fucking with you, I’ve never bought a Gillette razor. Black men don’t put razors on their face. It was something my father taught me early, just as I was taught to respect women. So when I saw this new Gillette ad circulating the web, my reaction was, well said. Not what I was expecting from the company that literally sells lower quality pink razors to women for the same price but hey, baby steps. When I started to see the backlash for the ad, I had to watch it again…maybe there was something I missed; surely men aren’t losing their minds because a razor company told them to be respectful members of society. Break up fights, don’t bully, don’t harass women on the street you don’t know. I feel like these are things that shouldn’t be up for debate. They could’ve went much deeper, but then again it’s just a razor company commercial. If anything, they threw a soft ball right down the middle. They are simply asking men to be better, if you haven’t been paying attention to the news, ain’t nobody playing anymore. Adapt or be swiftly removed from the paint. Like I was saying last post with the cookout, there’s no reward for being a decent person, it’s the damn standard.

But Hell hath no fury like a man being held accountable (see Hart, Kevin) so it opens an ironic dialogue on is the idea “toxic masculinity” toxic itself. (it’s not). Pretending to be taken aback by the notion of toxic is the same as being offended by the word privilege, largely full of shit. Having privilege does not mean without struggle, without oppression, without outliers and toxic masculinity does not mean that masculinity itself is toxic. Toxic masculinity alludes to someone acting within their own expectations of what a man is, often exaggerated, often inauthentic. It reduces male identity to sex, violence, bravado and aggression. It turns a workplace into a frat house, hell, it creates frat houses. We live in a society (for now) where it’s rewarded. We watched an imbecile bully his way to the White House simply by being the biggest man in the room. We see people live in toxicity so long they become a part of it themselves. Bully or get bullied, only the strong survive… We are conditioned to believe that toxic culture will change you before you will change it and so we play into it.

I’m not exempt either, growing up it was ride for your hood, get this bread, get at these girls. Virgins got clowned, dudes scrapped over simple shit, we did what we saw the older dudes in the hood doing. They had their own OGs. No one really thought about how and why things just were this way, they just were.

If only we had saw a Gillette commercial, we would’ve turned over a leaf must earlier in life.

I’m just fucking with you. Black men don’t put razors on their face. Which is why I was surprised to see other black men in their feelings over this ad. Like, we don’t even go here. And on top of that; violent, aggressive, sex crazed…that’s how *they* try to paint brothers already. We’re more than that, we’re above that, that’s not what makes us men.

The cycle has to end eventually and there’s no time like the present. Gillette isn’t saying act less like a man, they’re saying act more decent because frankly, everyone else on the planet is kinda tired of your shit. And what do these toxic men do in response? They stage an online boycott and throw their innocent razors in the trash. I guess it cut deep.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… SWIPING

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In a distant (maybe real distant) future, it’s my wedding day. There I stand, hopefully hairline still intact, beside my best man, probably my best friend Shizz, who I’ve known since I was 6. One of us asked the other to play one day and we been friends ever since.  Even as our lives took different paths over the years here we are as men, his hairline not intact. It’s been gone since we were like 20. My brothers would probably complete the roster, what’s a man without his family. Most importantly, they would all know the golden rules, that it’s swing on sight for anyone trying to Dwayne Wayne my wedding. Swing on sight for anyone trying to propose at my wedding. Weddings ain’t cheap, B. Across from me would be her wedding party, her best friend who at this point is more like a sister. Maybe it is her sister. Her homegirls, her council, maybe her line sisters (God if you’re listening, don’t send me no more Greeks). They’ve been there from picking out her first date outfit in the group chat, talking her down when things got tight, and now we all here.  Then comes my beautiful bride to be, who I saw on an app, liked her pictures and swiped right.  That’s just how we do things now.

I’ve spoke before about my dislike of dating apps (then I met someone not on a dating app so maybe this is just part of the process).  More appropriately I’d call them swiping apps with not much dating to be had. It’s a necessary evil because where are the single people? On apps. As of this year, there are 50 million people on Tinder. 50 million people finding love (or otherwise) via swipe, perhaps the most primitive gesture the human body can muster. An endless deck of cards and no matter how unimpressed you are you can’t help but keep swiping because maybe this one is the good one. Whether you swipe left or right, the immediate reward of a new profile releases dopamine and encourages you to keep going through the oddly satisfied pile of potentials waiting for one that actually intrigues you. Nope, okay that one…Nope…hmm this one looks interesti… Nah, never mind. Why does she take pictures so close to the camera, why are hers so blurry, is she black or tanned? Septum piercing? Pass. Don’t I know her? I wonder if she swiped right on me already. (Ok, so this did happen once, I had swiped right we matched but I hadn’t messaged yet.  I get to work the next day and I see her in the cafeteria.  I may or may not had unmatched her after that.  I’ve seen her around since then but we haven’t spoken. It’s a little weird)  And you swipe away without giving much thought to the actual people depicted. Maybe you’d like him if you had met at a concert because 5’9 is taller in person, maybe she’s just bad at pictures. You’re looking to meet someone but just casually rejected 25 people in 2 minutes with a thumb motion so how serious are you really?

No surprise, studies show that swiping apps are incredibly ineffective in finding relationships. 18%, about 1 in 6 people. It’s a slot machine. You won’t get what you’re looking for but the addictive simple nature of the app will keep you engaged, and advertisers just trying to advertise without any regard for your cuffing season dreams.  Hell, they’re incentivized for you not to meet someone. They can see you tend to swipe right on a certain type, so why not spread THOSE ones out and put them behind an ad?  Not much unlike the casino, the game isn’t for you to win, it’s for you to play. Which is why the first thing you see when you open Tinder the first thing you see are not your matches, not even yourself, it’s a new face to swipe on.  Happy swiping.

Not to go all Black Mirror about it, I’m sure with the proper level of expectations, it can be fun.  I think take a flattering photo, I’m quick witted and not a creep… theoretically I should clean up on there.  But I go on for a few days, play the slots, most of the time I’m swiping right on women just to see if it’s a match or not (I attract a type) and then deactivate until the next time I get bored.   I also think that maybe I’m just too old for this shit.  The median age of Tinder and other swiping apps is 26, while the median age of more traditional dating sites like Match is 40+, which leaves me kind of  in the middle too apathetic on swiping and too young to be dating y’all divorced aunties on E Harmony.  Which leaves me, going back to the basics.  Link with the squad, find a wave, and ask the cute girl at the bar what she’s drinking? That looks good.  Or, maybe I’ll just get a puppy.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… VOTE

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After what has seemingly been the longest 2 years ever, we have arrived at Election Day, Ballotine’s Day, Votesgiving or whatever. Not to sound so unenthused, I’m moreso exhausted. For one, after 2016 I don’t trust white people with anonymous ballots anymore and two, if there’s anything but a big Blue wave, it’s gonna our fault. We didn’t tell Pookie to go vote. We let the ancestors down. We took our asses to Black Panther but didn’t take our asses to the polls. Even as just 12% of the population, elections are won and lost on our backs. Ain’t that America. Black people aren’t allowed the privilege of apathy, we must vote like our lives depends on it, because well, our lives kinda depends on it. Even if it’s for the devil we know. I don’t say that to discourage voting, I vote. I voted for Obama. Twice. Would’ve a third time if I could. (I’m black so it’s funny when I say it). I guess I tire of the only way to try and garner the black vote is to get Obama & Oprah to talk down and guilt us into it as if we aren’t also citizens who have issues and demands. It’s a frustration I touched on last year when discussing buying Jordans; there’s just this assumption that black people simply don’t know better. I become annoyed at chicanery like click bait links and trolls to get people to register, text alerts, and Snapchat filters and maybe I’m just getting old but…speak to me like a constituent.

For example…

However, I do see the other side of it. People literally fought for this right. Beaten, harassed, killed for this right. Just 50 years ago. To stay home because you just really liked Bernie or you just don’t see any difference is an affront. If your vote actually “didn’t matter” like your hotep cousin on Facebook says, there wouldn’t be so many measures to try and suppress it. Reshaping districts, purging voter rolls, new voting ID laws, revoking the voting rights of those with past criminal records, closing voting locations in minority neighborhoods, to say your vote doesn’t matter is simply ignorant. When you see such overt voter suppression it’s hard not to then turn around and look at the apathetic non voter and want to scream at them for not at least doing their part. These people are literally silencing the people and you have the nerve to just not vote because you don’t feel like it? Fuck you, Pookie. You too, Spencer.

To be fair, we are not a monolith. Some people need a foot in their behind, some need their hand held, but most just want to be inspired again. We don’t need people dragging their feet to the polls, they should be marching. There’s less talk about what we’re voting for and more what we’re voting against. Even in my home state of Massachusetts, both Gubernatorial candidates aren’t really, saying anything. I’m more compelled to go to the polls for the ballot questions. We shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that our parents were very much alive at this time when black people were being terrorized out of their vote, they wasn’t just voting for their right to vote. They were voting to be heard, voting for change, voting to be a part of the solution. As aren’t we, today. There’s more to be done, more to be addressed and I feel like beyond trying to make sure young black people vote, there should be as much effort in making sure their issues are being heard as well. I would hope decades from now, I would be able to try and engage the younger generation to vote by saying this that and the third was done and not, well your ancestors died trying to vote, how could you let that be in vain? They’d be less need for shaming if there was actual results to display. Ultimately, people do what they WANT to do and instead of guilting, maybe the aim should be to make people want to. While Snapchat ads to register to vote is cute, where is the same energy to educate voters, and to make sure candidates know what these newly registered voters want? Fuck Donald Trump is a mood. It’s a good YG song. It’s not a sustainable party platform.

All that to say, take your ass to the polls today.*

*Because you want to because this is your damn country and you’ll be damned if it goes to hell without at least your input

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