Get a job Slangin' for the Government!

Now you can get a job slangin' for the DEA! No not selling drugs, but as a translator of black english, also know as ebonics. They are hiring interpreters for 114 different dialects, and decided to throw in slang as well.

One of the many ironies of this is that several years ago, the Oakland school board attempted to acknowledge ebonics formally in an effort to make english classes better able to translate ebonics to "proper english". To put it simply, how can you translate a language (ebonics to english) if you don't recognize the language you are translating?? (ebonics) Anyway, the entire country, including Bill Cosby and Jesse Jackson, totally dismissed the effort, completely misunderstanding the proposals intention. (no thanks to the media mischaracterization: can you say Shirley Sherrod?)

Now, the federal government in their supreme wisdom figure out that they need to formally translate ebonics to english in sting operations so they can make even more drug arrests of black men (as if the disproportinate number of blacks being sent to prison is not quite where it should and could be).

The irony of all ironies:

Translating ebonics for black kids in Oakland so they can learn proper english = very bad idea.

Trnaslating ebonics for DEA agents so they can incarcerate larger numbers of black men = great idea!

WTF???

Besides the issue of not working for the "Man" to further target and oppress black males for a drug policy that is racist and misguided (alcohol related deaths outnumber ALL illicit drugs combined as well as drug realted killings! Research that for yourself!), primarily targeting and criminalizing users instead of offering prevention and treatment....

...this is actually hella funny. (translation: very funny)

Try to imagine what the interview process would look like:

interviewer: "so tell me some slang?"

applicant: "Mutha#*&, you best hook me up with this gig b'foe I bust you in yo grill"

interviewer: "ohhh, that's good. What did you say?"

applicant: "I said that I'm very qualified and confident that I am a perfect fit for the job..."

and what would the resume say:

"Attended dozens of sideshows in 2010, participating in numerous dice games."

"Can text message 90 abbreviated words per minute"

"Currently have over 2500 myspace friends, 1900 facebook friends, and 1200 followers on twitter."

"Unemployed for 2 years, hanging on the block most days."

And then let's visualize this "translators" first day at work:

"Sooo, T Money, did I say that correct?"

"No it's C CASH."

"Right right, C cash... this is your cubicle...here's your headset... and let me introduce you to the team... Bill and Laura, I want you to welcome C cash. He's our new interpreter for the drug survellance unit...

Hi C cash! (looking at their ebonics cheat sheet). "What's the dilley yo?" (chuckle) Did I get it right?!

This is all a hot mess.

Nights Over Egypt

I ran across these journal notes from a trip I took to Egypt in 2002. All true stories.

Driving

The lanes in Egypt are merely suggested paths of travel. Egyptians don't use headlights at night. "They use up the battery" one cab driver told me. They are flashed only to avoid oncoming traffic or striking pedestrians. Stoplights and stop signs are very rare and again are merely suggestions. Blinkers are a rare courtesy. I saw the first car use a blinker on my 5th day there. The horn is used more than the brakes. There wasn't 1 stoplight on a 15 mile stretch along the downtown shoreline in Alexandria. Crossing the street is exactly like the game Frogger on difficulty level 10.

Cigarettes are customarily offered to you by cab drivers before they ceremoniously light up every single time- no exceptions. One cab ride, the cab driver stopped at the gas station and asked me to pay for gas.

All cabs are equipped with an old meter that has not worked in decades. There are only a few places smoking is not allowed, the library and convention hall.

Sightseeing

When I was in the temple of Karnak, a soilder called me over and pointed to a monument, indicating that it was a good spot for a picture... then he asked for a tip. Because I am not familiar with weapons, I could not tell if his rifle was semi or fully automatic but it didn't matter, I tipped him automatically.

Travelling

When I caught a domestic flight on Egypt Air the announcer said "In case of change in cabin pressure, put out your cigarette first then secure your oxygen mask..."

It's a Man's World? No, it's MY world.

My son asked me, "Why does mommy make all the decisions?" I replied defensively, "Mommy doesn't make all the decisions. We make decisions together by agreeing on them." "No, mommy makes all the decisions. She decided we were going to move, and were moving.." There was no sense in arguing. The boy couldn't possibly understand how I am just as much of a decision maker as mommy, if not more. For instance, he is completely unaware of the fact that mommy lets me pick out the movie 9 out of 10 times.

All jokes aside, when I mentioned the exchange to my wife, we wondered if he saw a problem with mommy making decisions because of sexist gender role expectations or what. When we asked the 6 year old who should be making the decisions, he pointed to himself, clearing up THAT confusion.

Bragging rights

I found out from my wife recently that my 5 year old son was bragging in the back seat to a playmate that "My daddy got arrested. He went to jail".

Okay, first of all, that was when I was 17. I had a little too much to drink and got out of the juvenile facility in less than a day. But nevermind that. My son recalled that tidbit of information that I think I revealed to him when he asked me if I had ever been arrested, at least a year ago.

Why not mention that his dad is in graduate school and getting a 3.9 GPA? Why not mention that his dad has traveled to Africa several times and is taking him to Africa next year? why not point out that his dad is a Director and works at a school named after the first African-American president? Or that his dad reads to him every night and makes robots with him? These are the things that I think are having an impact on him but no, he is much more enamored with telling his friends that his dad has been to jail and is good at making guns! (I made a cork pop gun out of a pen when he wanted me to BUY him one.)

Just call a thief a thief

We're leaving the house when my 5 year old saw the neighbors window busted. He said, "Wow, it rained so hard that it broke that car's window!", "No son, someone broke into their car." You know what came next "Daddy, why did someone break their window?" (You would think that at 5 years old he would know these things already, especially living in Oakland) I don't want to simply say, "Because they are broke" or worse "some people just steal. We call them thieves!" or even assume "They are probably looking for something to sell to buy drugs." So instead, I start explaining human behavior theories, highlighting environmental factors as primary determinants, and finally summarizing humanity and our concepts of good and bad as not being core attributes to peoples' nature, but subjective value judgements on behavior patterns.

He let me finish completely before saying: "Oh. So Daddy, what will we do if someone breaks into our car and steals something?" In a split second, I realize, in my head, 2 things: 1. calling the cops is moot except to have the city add me as a casualty to their stats, especially since the deductible is $500 and they are not going to dust for prints and interview the neighbors... 2. In 5 years my son has learned to do what it has taken me 36 years to do: Get to the point. "Well son, I guess we would just fix the window."

give me my dollar back

I can't stand gimmicks. Attempt #1: First Safeway makes their checkers ask you if you want to donate to breast cancer or muscular distrophy, forcing me to make a choice to NOT give to this clearly worthy cause, out loud in front of everyone in the line. Not cool. Now I either a. feel guilty for not giving, or b. don't even blink, not giving a damn about sick women or children. Neither of those sit well with me. Of course I could say yes and give the dollar but then I will feel a. resentful for the sneaky intrusion on my shopping experience, or b. like my family is $1 poorer in the worse recession of my lifetime. All I want is my groceries, that's all. I already lied to the brotha in front of the store telling him I didn't have the change. Well technically I didn't have the exact change he was asking for and if I did, what I meant was that my family already had dibbs on all my available cash. Attempt #2: Oh, and now at the CVS when you swipe your card, they automatically prompt you to donate a dollar to some other cause and you again are forced to say "NO" to sick women and children.

Now I know we are supposed to have prosperity consciousness and give cheerfully and think abundantly so that the universe can return all that I give 10 fold, etc. etc. and I wholeheartedly believe all that. I also believe that a fool and his money shall soon be parted, so for now, I say "booo" to the execs at Safeway and CVS for hustling customers for the charities that their executives are on the board of.

The Dance Party

It's a dance party in the living room. A regular Payne family ritual. Michael Jackson is cranking. Elijah is outdoing his self with jumps and spins. Me and Kafi are doing moves from the early 90's. Cameron is running in circles screaming. This is the point when Kafi says "move Elijah, Daddys going to do the worm!" That was my que to dust off my partystopper. I used to do "the worm" (also known as the centipede) as my climax move in my younger days, much younger. So without a moments hesitation, I stop doing the robot and hit the floor so smooth, Kafi was like "Wow! Daddy did that gooood! Do that again Daddy!" My whole family was in awe. This was a dance partay!

30 minutes later after I bathe and clothe the boys, the shooting pain in my forearm cannot be ignored but why is it hurting? Did I hit my arm on something? Then I realize in an instant. I just dove in the air, (twice!) landing on my arms, absorbing my full adult weight and now my arm hurts. Then a deeper realization washes over my mind: I am almost 36 years old, I haven't played basketball since Bush was president, I can't remember the last time I even sprinted let alone did some push ups, I measure my daily exercise with a pedometer! Damn.

I share my realization with my loving caring spouse that my epic dance move caused a minor injury and that it took my 21 year old mind 30 minutes to realize that my body is actually 35. She laughed so hard she stopped breathing a couple of times. I never got hurt before doing the worm but I never has so much fun doing it either. Yup, I'm getting older but I am loving the ride!