lets 快连 梯子

Dear Exceptions:

I will be moving from this pleasant locale where you first met me into a new space that fits me a bit better.

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Same address, just minus the typepad.

Swing by and check out what I've done with the place...

Jelani Cobb
American Exception

I'm hoping Barack Obama will begin his inaugural speech by telling black folk that there is nothing to be embarrassed about but embarrassment itself. Among the more endearing traits of my people is our willingness to go to the mat for our own -- even when we know they're dead wrong or when we're clearly over-reacting.

I had to remind myself of that when I got this email purporting to be from the National President of Delta Sigma Theta warning black people to act right and stop forwarding inside jokes about the incoming President-elect. (I got a voicemail when I called to verify that it was from her.) The key points:

We cannot allow our President-elect to be made a mockery of, especially by his own people. Not only does he represent everything that is great about our nation; Barack Obama literally personifies how awesome we are as a people.

His wisdom, his poise, his eloquence, his fortitude,
even his swagger...illustrate the greatness of a people who have been dismissed, discarded, discouraged, and disregarded by not only "the majority," but also by our own.

 It is funny how we can't stand Rush Limbaugh, Sean
 Hannity, or Bill O'Reilly for their condescending and surreptitious attacks on Obama; but we email and
text blast everyone from the 'hood about "free BBQ on the White House lawn" and messages of the like...

I understand her point but ultimately disagree with this. All presidents are subjected to humor and a good bit of it is distasteful. And truthfully, people have gotten it way worse than Obama has so far. Andrew Jackson's wife was ridiculed as a bigamist and Harry Truman's daughter was a target of jabs from his political rivals and the press. John McCain once joked that "the reason Chelsea Clinton is so ugly is Janet Reno is her father."

I haven't received any of the jokes personally but it's the kind of thing I'd probably find distasteful. But that's beside the point. At the end of the day this sounds like more of the old elite Negroes telling other black folk how they should be behaving. For instance:

We are in the midst of one of the most significant events in our nation's history and how WE carry
ourselves is more important than ever before.

Even if this isn't from the National President the line highlights one of the least endearing traits of my people: we often fear embarrassment more than racism. There's a thread of black thought that holds that the progress of the race has been the hostage not of narrow-minded among whites but by the absence of social ettiquette among black people.

Underlying this email is a basic fear of the fragility of this moment, of Barack Obama and, by extension, every one of our melinated kinfolk in this country. Anyone who has read the table of contents in From Slavery to Freedom understands where that fear comes from. But even then there's such a thing paranoia.

Obama survived a brutal 22 month campaign, attacks by every major media outlet over the Jeremiah Wright connection, a bruising schedule, questions about his patriotism and a relentless microscope of public life entails. And he came away with more than double the number of electoral votes that John McCain won while raising nearly $800 million.

A few silly jokes will not undermine his presidency. In short, President-elect Obama is not that delicate.

在国内访问国外网站

The New Face of Race Relations - NYTimes.com.

I have a choice between excoriating the above foolishness and keeping my promise to hit the gym today. I'm hitting the gym. But know that while I'm shoving around heavy objects and pounding the treadmill I will be asking questions like:

Has the NYT run out of money, started stealing stories from The Onion?

Why did they chose to cut the paragraph where they talk about Obama signing the Emancipation Proclamation, arguing the Brown v. Board of Education case and leading the March on Washington (before he created Gray's Anatomy) ?

Where do they find black folk this delicate? Or whites this earnest?

Are there really people who subscribe to these sentimentalized white liberal versions of race -- as if the problem is just that we "misunderstand" each other?

Forgive the sarcasm.

There's a strand of self-congratulation to this whole look-how-far-we've come theme that has taken root since November 4th and the Times piece is reflective of it. Let's be clear, electing a black president is a huge accomplishment but black people have been voting for white people for as long as we've been voting. We've more or less been trying to be postracial since 1619 -- it's only now that whites are catching up.

The Times has a way of showing its seams, running articles with their upper-income white suburban slant showing. That was the problem with that How Race Is Lived series they ran in 1996. The fact that the main concern was the daily interactions and presumptions as opposed to the ways in which it remains inscribed in social policy, economics and law (enforcement.)

In my experience very few black folk see race primarily in terms of its emotional awkwardness but a whole lot of whites do, which is why you get silly commentary like:

Even Mr. Rice’s wife, Becca Knox, 43, who is white, said that despite being married to a black man for six years, finding a comfortable way to talk about race with people of other races, particularly African-Americans, that is sensitive but not self-conscious, candid but not offensive, is still “a constant, constant struggle and process.”

But over the last few months, both Mr. Rice and Ms. Knox, who live in Washington, have been struck by the slight easing of these examples of what psychologists describe as “interracial anxiety” between blacks and whites. That is because there is a now an omnipresent icebreaker:

Barack Obama

And this gem which, admittedly made me wonder if this dude was imported from a lost episode of The Jeffersons:

“Before Obama, there was always this thing — ‘He’s a black doctor,’ ” Mr. Jackson said. “But now I’m going to be a physician who also happens to be black. That’s become the perception now, which is really nice.”

Seriously, are people still saying that happens-to-be-black line? When does it become possible for people to happen-to-be-white or anything else? In a country where race still correlates to income, education and most importantly, life expectancy, there's something violent about reducing it to a coincidental adjective.

If race were truly about two dissimilar but bound tribes groping for common understanding maybe I wouldn't be so bothered by this. But I'm a historian and I know that overwhelmingly it has been about power -- who gets it and who gets abused by it. Everything else is just burnt cork.

Damn... late for the gym.

Ryan Mack, my fellow contributor to The Black Male Handbook, just called out Russell Simmons for his place in one of the shadier outposts of the financial services industry.

The key point is here:

The pre-paid debit card industry has always been an industry that is built upon a lack of knowledge within the community. It is an industry based upon the legal phrase which demonstrates that "false imprisonment is an intentional tort." In other words, if I put someone in a room and do not lock the door but tell them that the door is locked, they will remain in the room because they believe the door is locked. As a result of my action, I have committed a punishable crime. I view pre-paid debit cards in the same light. Those who know the strategies to empower the community have a moral obligation to those, who may not be as knowledgeable, to fully inform them. There are other more efficient means to empower those in our communities than pre-paid debit cards and other financially destructive establishments such as check cashing facilities. The typical bank offers free debit cards that if used properly do not have any fees affiliated with them and can be used for the same purpose as the pre-paid debit cards.

If we compare the fees affiliated with the Rushcard compared to the typical bank offered debit card, we can clearly see the advantage of the cards offered by the banking institutions. Rushcard vs. Typical Bank Card

Activation Fee: Rushcard = $19.95 Typical Bank Card = Free
Convenience Fee: Rushcard = $1.00 Typical Bank Card = Free
ATM Cash Withdrawal: Rushcard = $1.95 Typical Bank Card = Free (At Branch)
ATM Balance Inquiry: Rushcard = $.50 Typical Bank Card = Free
Bill Payment: Rushcard = $1.00 Typical Bank Card = Free
Inactivity:如何加速访问国外服务器? -「云杰通信」:今天 · 企业用户在与海外企业对接时，访问海外服务器遇到了十分严重的问题。对于大部分之前一直访问国内服务器，甚至是没国外服务器的用户。在访问国外服务器的时候总会有很多的顾虑，不知道哪种国外服务器访问专线更稳定，能达到自身产品运行所需要的实际服务器环境。
Refund of Rushcard/Bank Card via Check: Rushcard = $5.00 Typical Bank Card = Free

Russell Rush (remember that handle?) is nobody's fool and he probably deserves more credit than he gets for pushing hip hop further down the road of semi-responsibility but this is disturbing. I'm waiting for news that Li'l Wayne and Nelly have collaborated to open a string of check cashing joints on Martin Luther King avenues across the nation.

random piece

this is from the vault, but never really widely seen:

not long ago someone who follows my writing sent me a blunt email. there was no subject line and the single line read: "damn, don't you like anything?" and i sent a four-word reply: "butter-pecan ice cream." even more recently a friend told me that my essays sometimes seem jaded and world-weary. i had to plead guilty to the jaded charge. i look at the plotlines in current events -- needless war, exploited poor, municipal callousness, moments of great possibility that seem to slip out of the brackets and shatter before we get a chance to truly enjoy them -- and it often seems like the world is one of those long-running sitcoms whose writers have run out of new ideas.

i've consciously started writing about people/moments/ideas that i really think highly of. it happens to be the case that things that piss me off are more likely to get me to the computer. but sometimes there are bitter sweet moments that i take pleasure in describing too.

for instance, the other day my car got towed for being parked in the wrong place. i had to go to this lot that is waaaay out in the cut. it is literally next to a city garbage dump and on this long, winding road that is surrounded by overgrown woods on either side. the kind of place where people dump evidence of things they hope god didn't see. then on top of that you had to go up this long, steep blind alley to get into the tow yard.

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when i got to the top of the alley and entered the yard i saw a run down bungalow and a tow truck idling with no one in it. i knocked on the door and no one answered. then i looked inside and saw a big man, easily my size, watching a football game. he had a beard worthy of an imam. i knocked on the window and he held his finger to his lips and pointed downward. i looked down and saw a newborn asleep in a carriage. when i came in i saw a little girl in a pink jumper with a ski cap that was waaaay to big for her on her head. it was rolled up so it would shield her eyes from the fluorescent light overhead.

her father was manning the desk for the midnight shift. he was a dark-skinned brother covered with tats and about 23 years old. i asked how old she was and he told me she would be two months old in a week. we made small talk while he was processing my paperwork. turns out he had been a semi-pro quarterback until he got cut. he had a serious demeanor, but wasn't grim or bitter. he said it kind of matter of factly. every so often he looked down at the girl and adjusted the cap or tucked the blanket over her. at some point his girlfriend came out of the adjoining room. she was about his age with a kind of gold hue to her skin tone and baby locks. i realized that this whole young family was working the midnight shift together in a yard that was located in the most forgotten corner of atlanta.

before we went out to get my car he pulled the ski cap off his daughter's head and put it on his own, which made his girlfriend laugh. the hat completed an improbable outfit consisting of a white long-sleeve thermal t-shirt, black and red nylon basketball shorts and timberland boots. when i got back outside i realized that because it was way up on a hill on the outskirts of the city, this desolate little corner had the absolute most stunning view of the atlanta skyline that i've ever seen. we wound up having to put the car in front of me into neutral and push it out of the way because the keys were missing. when i got to my car i saw a copy of The Devil and Dave Chappelle in the backseat and i asked him what kind of stuff he liked to read. he said a little of everything. i gave him the copy and said "i used to work the midnight shift back in the day and i was always glad to have something to read to make the time go by." he said thanks and went back inside.

for whatever reason that experience made me happy. i tried to figure out why, thinking maybe it was because they were young and had years in front of them and were too idealistic for worry to have given them furrowed brows, or because they were obviously struggling but hanging in there together, even in the dead of a chilly night in an abandoned precinct of the city. or maybe because the thought of a brother working a midnight shift while reading my book gave me a new understanding of the term "target audience."

what i did know is that it i "liked" that experience for complex reasons -- which is why when people ask me open ended questions like that i take the simple route and say things like "butter-pecan ice cream."

maybe i'm not so jaded after all.

jelani c.

I will be on the road a bit this semester. Come out if you find yourself in the vicinity...

Thursday, January 15: Kennesaw State University, Georgia: The Race Forum (7pm)

Sunday January 18: Brooklyn Museum: A Journey of Hope: From Protest to the Presidency (3pm)

Monday, January 19: "Living the Dream: Obama and the Meaning of Change" 1436 U Street, Washington, DC          (2-4pm)

Wednesday, January 21: Historical Society of Washington, DC: "Beyond Politics: The Meaning of the                 Election of Barack Obama" 801 K Street, Washington DC

Thursday, February 12: Carter Library, "Barack Obama and Abraham Lincoln" (7pm)

Thursday, February 19: Georgia State University, (room TBA) "Obama and the Myth of Postracialism" 5:30pm

怎么进入国外的网页 Arizona State University, (room, time TBA) "The Theory of Radical Black  Optimism" 

Saturday April 4: Macon State University, Keynote Speaker, "The Culture of Conflict," 7pm

This is one of those stories that only happens in Atlanta. Cradle of black churches, black colleges and the most deeply rooted black middle class in the country, it's the kind of place where you would expect to find a woman who was born not long after Plessy v. Ferguson, graduated from Morris Brown College in 1922 and lives on Martin Luther King Drive -- across from Booker T. Washington High School.

Ann Nixon Cooper is old enough to have been a Negro, a Colored woman, black an Afro-American and our current designation. I think that's what they mean by containing multitudes.

In the moments after Obama was elected we heard various strains of black recollection -- most centered on the still clear memories of Jim Crow. But Ms. Cooper came along when the paint on the Whites Only signs was still wet and now holds the distinction of being the only black person to receive a shout-out during a Presidential acceptance speech.

Today she celebrated her 107th birthday with several dozen well-wishers crowded into her home. She stood up and blew out her candles which was a fairly reserved performance considering the pictures of her doing the electric slide on her 103rd.

(Forgive the grainy quality of the images -- this is what happens when you get the random blessing of being able to sing happy birthday to a 107 year old woman and only have a cell phone camera to prove you were actually there.)

Ms. Cooper with Atlanta Mayor Shirley Franklin

The compromise since 107 candles is probably a bit much.

The race card is dead. I knew that it was virtually in hospice care when I used it in this week's WaPo piece. But it could not hold on no longer and -- as many of you so helpfully pointed out -- it is cold and decomposing.

Don't get me wrong: the phenomenon of using ju jitsu where you use the history of racial exploitation to your own ends is still with us, it's just that the term is hackneyed, threadbare and, at this point, obscures more than it illuminates.

Rick Rubin held a funeral for the word "Def" and the NAACP (prematurely) buried the so-deemed N-word. We will do no less for the race card, which has been with us for so long.

We hold an official homegoing later in the week. In the meantime we are holding a digital memorial service.

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Again, I'm on the run but I couldn't let this pass without comment. In the first minute and four seconds we're treated to a standard version what is by now it's own news subgenre: the Unexpected Obama Sighting.

But the prize comes in the last two seconds. In what alternate universe could you imagine the Mayor of Washington, DC and the President of the United States exchanging dap -- aka the black man's handshake-with-half-hug -- in front of Ben's Chili Bowl?

In a reply to someone's comment about Chicago clergy supporting Burris I used the word "Ministrel."

Now, I would like to think that was an innocuous case of my left index finger finding its mark on the keyboard before my left middle finger did and an additional "l" being thrown in somehow.

But come to think about it, on some deep level I was in need of a new word that described clergy with backward racial politics.

So there it is: a ministrel show.