Dear Mr. Man…

December 15th, 2011

The Twelve Days of Christmas (In Da ‘Hood)

I’m sure, Dear Reader, you are familiar with the English Christmas carol, “The Twelve Days of Christmas”. In keeping with my post, “Santa Clause is a Gansta”, I thought we’d have a little more holiday fun. So without further ado, I present to you:

The Twelve Days of Christmas (In Da ‘Hood)

On the FIRST Day of Christmas

My homeboy gave to me

A pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the SECOND Day of Christmas

My homeboy gave to me

Two Shiny Gats

And a pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the THIRD Day of Christmas

My homeboy gave to me

Three ”WHAAT? YEAHHH! OKAAAAY!!!”‘s

Two Shiny Gats

And a pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the FOURTH Day of Christmas

My homeboy gave to me

Four Chickenheads

Three ”WHAAT? YEAHHH! OKAAAAY!!!”‘s

Two Shiny Gats

And a pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the FIF’ Day of Christmas

My homeboy gave to me

A FIIIIIIVE KNUCKLE RING!

Four Chickenheads

Three ”WHAAT? YEAHHH! OKAAAAY!!!”‘s

Two Shiny Gats

And a pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the SIXTH Day of Christmas

My homie gave to me

Six Crackheads A-Crackin’

A FIIIIIIVE KNUCKLE RING!

Four Chickenheads

Three ”WHAAT? YEAHHH! OKAAAAY!!!”‘s

Two Shiny Gats

And a pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the SEVENTH Day of Christmas

My homie gave to me

Seven Passes to a Michael Vick Dog Fight (Ouch!)

Six Crackheads A-Crackin’

A FIIIIIIVE KNUCKLE RING!

Four Chickenheads

Three ”WHAAT? YEAHHH! OKAAAAY!!!”‘s

Two Shiny Gats

And a pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the EIGHTH Day of Christmas

My homie gave to me

Eight baby mamas

Seven Passes to a Michael Vick Dog Fight

Six Crackheads A-Crackin’

A FIIIIIIVE KNUCKLE RING!

Four Chickenheads

Three ”WHAAT? YEAHHH! OKAAAAY!!!”‘s

Two Shiny Gats

And a pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the NINTH Day of Christmas

My homie gave to me

Nine Prison Pen Pals

Eight baby mamas

Seven Passes to a Michael Vick Dog Fight

Six Crackheads A-Crackin’

A FIIIIIIVE KNUCKLE RING!

Four Chickenheads

Three ”WHAAT? YEAHHH! OKAAAAY!!!”‘s

Two Shiny Gats

And a pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the TENTH Day of Christmas

My homie gave to me

Ten Pounds 0f Chitlins

Nine Prison Pen Pals

Eight baby mamas

Seven Passes to a Michael Vick Dog Fight

Six Crackheads A-Crackin’

A FIIIIIIVE KNUCKLE RING!

Four Chickenheads

Three ”WHAAT? YEAHHH! OKAAAAY!!!”‘s

Two Shiny Gats

And a pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the ELEVENTH Day of Christmas

My homie gave to me

Eleven Police A-Chasin’

Ten Pounds 0f Chitlins

Nine Prison Pen Pals

Eight baby mamas

Seven Passes to a Michael Vick Dog Fight

Six Crackheads A-Crackin’

A FIIIIIIVE KNUCKLE RING!

Four Chickenheads

Three “WHAAT? YEAHHH! OKAAAAY!!!”‘s

Two Shiny Gats

And a pair of trousers saggin’ to the knees.

On the TWELFTH Day of Christmas

My homie gave to me

Twelve Swisher Sweets (Grape Flavored)

Eleven Police A-Chasin’

Ten Pounds 0f Chitlins

Nine Prison Pen Pals

Eight baby mamas

Seven Passes to a Michael Vick Dog Fight

Six Crackheads A-Crackin’

A FIIIIIIVE KNUCKLE RING!

Four Chickenheads

Three “WHAAT? YEAHHH! OKAAAAY!!!”‘s

Two Shiny Gats

AND A PAIR OF TROUSERS SAGGIN’ TO THE KNEES!

That, my friends, is a Christmas Carol, HOOD STYLE. Be sure to teach this one to the kids!

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November 16th, 2011

Mr. Man's Random Thoughts

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Two Boys, a Raccoon, and a Little Imagination

I was taking the trash out last night when I ran across two boys playing near the dumpster. I had a good idea as to what they were doing.

You see, there is a raccoon that hangs out at the dumpster. He scared the crap out of me one night when I was taking out the garbage. I hear this noise that sounded like a grown man rumbling around in the refuse. I stopped in my tracks. Frozen. Then out comes “Corleone” ( I named him that because he waits in the dumpster for others to bring him gifts. In return, he won’t pee on your welcome mat. It’s an offer you can’t refuse). Corleone looks at me. I look at him. It’s like he’s saying, “Whatcha bringin’ me, homie?”

Each of the boys had a broken chair leg that they were using as “guns”. It was obvious they knew they were up to no good. Not anything bad, really. They simply had a mischievious look about them. As I approached the dumpster, the oldest of the two boys looks at me and says, “There’s a raccoon in there!”

“I know,” I replied. “You guys need to be careful, because…”

The younger boy interrupts. “I bopped him in the nose!”

“You did?” I asked with interest.

“Yeah! Bopped him right in tha nose!”

“Well, you guys don’t need to do that. Raccoons can carry diseases, including rabies. If he bites you, you’ll get really sick and could die.”

The older one, trying to show himself responsible (yet was in the center of the mischief before I came out, I’m sure), says to the younger, “Yeah. YOU shouldn’t be messin’ with that raccoon. You could get rabies and DIE!”

The younger one says, “Yeah. And I bopped him in the nose! Let’s go tell the other kids. Bye, Mister”.

As the boys ran off to play, I couldn’t help but think about my own children. It was nice to see those boys playing under the cool evening sunshine. They were using their imaginations, creating games (and a little mischief, of course). This is how I would spend summer vacation. Playing outside and letting the day take me wherever it chose to go. Summertime was kinda like my own ”Choose Your Own Adventure” book.

It is a struggle at times to get some children to go outside and play. They would rather watch television, play video games, or play on the computer. Maybe that’s the problem. Kids today have more stuff to fill their time (and minds) than we ever did as children. These things take up the space in a kid’s mind that used to be occupied with (dare I say?)…imagination.

Television and video games feed our kids whatever message they want to push into our living rooms and into their brains. Don’t get me wrong I am not against these things altogether. I enjoy Sons of Anarchy and Modern Warfare 3 as much as the next middle aged man. However, I balance that out with reading, writing, and other endeavors that allow me to use my imagination.

As parents, we need to encourage our kids to go out and “play in the sunshine“. Part of that is going out and doing things with them. Remember how much fun it was to climb a tree, throw water balloons, or play “Kill The Man With The Ball”? Close your eyes for a minute and think about that game you used to play. I bet it brought a smile to your face.

DMM

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November 10th, 2011

Lost Your Damn Mind, Politics

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Rick Perry Is Not Texas (All Texans Are Not Rick Perry)

After watching the the ninth ( yes, count them. NINE) Republican Primary Presidential Debate, I don’t know why I was expecting anything different. Romney? Stand-offish and insincere. Cain? Likeable (maybe not so much after the allegations), yet unelectable. Santorum? Whiny. Bachmann? Irrelevant at this point. Perry? Well, he’s Perry. Time for a commercial break for his new album soon to be released:

Last night’s debate and Perry’s gaffe was enough to make me crawl out of blogger purgatory( shout-out to @MommyFactor for the nudge). As I watched (along with four million others) Perry take his best debate performance to that point (HIS best debate performance, not THE best debate performance) and shoot it all to H-E- Double Hockey Sticks with the 12-gauge shotgun that is his mouth.

Being a native Texan (Houston, to be exact), I cringe when I see Perry on television. I cringe because people around the country who are not familiar with our state can’t help but assume that he is representative of Texas and all its citizens.

Let me make this clear: RICK PERRY IS NOT TEXAS AND ALL TEXANS ARE NOT LIKE RICK PERRY.

Did I yell that loud enough? Texas is home to millions of people who do not walk, talk, act, or think like Perry. Yes, we have southwestern accents, but that’s no different from New Englanders, Midwesterners, or Californians. However, not every Texan has a severe pause in their thought processes. The ability to articulate is limited to the individual, not to the whole state. To Perry’s credit, he seems to do well when speaking off-the-cuff (except in the video below):

Okay, I actually kinda like this video. But I digress.

Here are some stereotypes I’d like to dispel for those of you that are not familiar with the Lone Star State:

Not every Texan owns a ranch with oil wells in the back (This ain’t the “Beverly Hillbillies”).
Not every Texan owns or wears a pair of cowboy boots (I rather sport my Chuck Taylors).
We are not all racist (Some of my best friends are black).
Not everyone in Texas drives a Ford F-150 (though they should).
Most of Texas does not live like the folks on the ’80′s soap “Dallas”.
Texas is not all desert and cactuses (or cacti, if you prefer). Texas ranges from beautiful greenery in the east, to the spectacular Hill Country central of the state, to arid in the western part of the state. The northern part of the state even gets snow most years.
We don’t all ride horses to work at the big oil companies.
For the record, I couldn’t tie a lasso if my life depended on it, let alone rope a bull with it.
Not all Texans are closed-minded.
Yes. We are aware that there are 49 other states in the Union.

Rick Perry aside, Texans are a very diverse people with diverse interests, ideas, and lifestyles. While there may be some in our state that fit the stereotypes that Rick Perry presents to the nation, we aren’t all like him. With the rich cultural mix that resides in Texas, we are in many ways like those in other parts of the the country. We are not Rick Perry. We are Texas.

Y’all come back now. Ya hear?

DMM

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August 16th, 2011

Mr. Man's Random Thoughts

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Why We Don’t “Get” Our Kids

With every passing year, I find that my perspective on life matures and tend to notice the differences between Gen X’ers and the ones who have come after us, our children. Issues such as faith, family, politics, race, and relationships are viewed differently by the Gen Y crowd, also referred to in some circles as the Millennial Generation. Let’s look at a few examples of some differences between Gen X’ers and the Millennials:

Gen X believes in playing by the rules, working your way up the proverbial ladder, to reach success at some point in the future. GenY believes that rules are fluid. When the rules don’t fit, they create their own. Gen X waits on opportunity to present itself, while Gen Y is more comfortable in creating opportunity.
Gen X has a mindset of individualism while Millennials tend to seek the support of others to reach a goal.
Gen X’s use of technology has been a learned and adapted process. Gen X tends to use technology based on their needs. Gen Y was born in the Internet Age. For this reason, the use of technology in all its various forms comes more naturally. It is integrated in their lifestyles and many would be lost without it (i.e. “Why write a letter when I can just IM you?”).
Gen X values freedom over money. Money to Gen X’ers is a tool to gain freedom. Gen Y values money AND freedom. Money is needed to maintain their lifestyle.
Gen X lives for the future. Millennials live for the here and now.

When it comes to romance, Gen Y seems to be more fluid in their relationships. Gen Y are responsible for the popularization of FWBs (Friends With Benefits), although this phenomenon has been occurring throughout history albeit more discreetly. It has been my observation that Gen Y views on marriage and relationships are more of a financial and intimacy partnership as opposed to something that is intended to be a forever thing. In a way, can you blame them? It is the Gen X’ers who have created the highest divorce rates recorded in modern history.

It is just as easy for Gen Y to find and embrace close, personal relationships online. While many Gen X’ers have also embraced this practice, it is more natural for the Millennials. Gen X’ers tend to be more cautious when meeting people in the social networks, it is a seemless transition from the real world to the Internet for GenY. Gen Y is more comfortable meeting people online, starting relationships, and openly sharing details of their lives in cyberspace. In fact, to mosst Gen Y’ers, there is no real difference between the real world and the virtual one. With the advent of popular virtual realities such as Second Life and World of Warcraft, Gen Y and beyond have no challenges exisiting in both the real world and the virtual one.

Maybe these are some of these reasons Gen X’ers and the Millennials have difficulty understanding each other. We each occupy different places in time. I’m certain our parents felt the same way about us. All we can do is continue to talk to them, try to understand them, and learn from them as well.

Mr. Man

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August 9th, 2011

Manhood, Uncategorized

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Broke But Not Broken

I need a break. There is too much going on in my life and it’s difficult to keep up. I haven’t had a real vacation since last year and the demands at work keep growing and growing. However, I’m not going to complain, especially when so many people are out of work.

As a black male, current statistics lean heavily against me. While the unemployment rate nationally hovers around 9%, African-American males are unemployed at the rate of 17%. This is down (believe it or not) from the October 2009 high of 34.5%. At that time, one third of working age black men and women in our country were unemployed (Source: The Washington Post).

There are many factors that contribute to this. Unfortunately, a disproportionate number of black males have criminal records. Most employers, while legal cannot discriminate against a job applicant for this reason, still have serious reservations about hiring someone with a criminal record and working with them on a daily basis.

Another reason is that not enough black men have college degrees. In today’s economic environment, those without college degrees are at a serious disadvantage. People with degrees are at the point where they are taking the service and semi-skilled jobs that once belonged to teenagers and other non-degreed individuals. Employers have the luxury of being extremely selective in today’s job market.

No matter how much we like to believe that we are living in a post-racial society, racism still plays a part in some hiring decisions. Not all. Not even most, but in some cases, the color of a person’s skin is still a factor.

However, one problem that I see as prevalent in some segments of the black community is that many people rely on the government to solve this issue. As I write this post, the Congressional Black Caucus is embarking on a month long project to help reduce the unemployment rate in the black community. While I laud the effort, this is not the answer.

Now that I have highlighted the problem of black male unemployment, the solution below does not apply only to black males. This is for anyone who finds themselves in this seemingly hopeless situation.

The answer is the same as it always has been. We can no longer wait for someone else to solve the ills of an entire race. We have to take the steps to to pull ourselves out of the morass. We must educate ourselves to the degree that we are playing on as even a field as possible. If work is available in a field that one may consider beneath them, then take the job if offered. Become gainfully employed until you can change the situation for yourself. No one is going to change it for you. The other other option is to be broke.

I remember many years ago being unemployed. As a young man in my early 20′s, I literally lost everything because I could not afford to pay for anything. One of the things I had to sell was my high scool class ring. I had to hock something that is irreplacable so that I could pay a bill. During this time I experienced depression and despair. I lost a decent-paying management position with a large company because I thought two birds in the bush was worth more than one bird in hand, as the saying goes. I hit rock bottom when I could no longer afford to pay rent on my apartment and I had to call my parents and ask if I could move back home.

Despite my mangement experience, I could not find another mangement job. However, I didn’t give up. The first job offer I received was to be an overnight stock boy in a local grocery store. I jumped all over it. $7 bucks an hour.

I could have been satisfied with that. At least I was working, right? I was living with my parents and using their car. This should have been good enough, right? I could have been content with my place in life.

Wrong. I knew that this was a short-term setback. I could not allow myself to “settle”. So I looked for the opportunity in the situation. Since I was working at night, I would look for more work during the day. I’d get off work at 7am, drop my mother off to work, catch a quick nap, and spend the rest of the day searching for someone who would give me an opportunity I could build upon. Eventually it happened. I found a management job, starting from the bottom and I worked my way up through that company running several of their stores until I eventually left. On my terms. This never would have happened if I simply waited for someone else to change my situation for me.

Being broke does not mean that you are broken. The absence of a job can be looked upon as an opportunity to improve oneself. Many people feel as though they are stuck in dead-end jobs, but they hold on because there aren’t as many jobs waiting on them as there once was. Now is the time to take a realistic assessment of where you are in life and CHANGE IT. If opportunity does not come knocking at your door, then you must go out and find opportunity. Getting a college education is more accessible than ever before. However, no one regardless of race, can sit around and wait for someone or some program to take you by the hand. It just isn’t going to happen. It may not be your fault if you’re currently unemployed, but it is your fault is you choose not to do anything about it. No one said it would be easy, but it is done everyday by those who choose to change their lives

It’s time to make a difference for yourself and your family. It’s time to take responsibilty. People who take action for themselves rarely stay in the same negative situation. Those that wait on a situation to change itself are typically disappointed.

Mr. Man

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March 22nd, 2011

Mr. Man's Random Thoughts

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Mr. Man, Mocha Dad, & The Chicken

Note: My teenaged daughter reads my blog. She is actually a fan of sorts. She recently asked me about this story idea, a memory, actually, and when would I write about it. Shout out to Bae for making me “pee and get off the pot” on this one.

My grandmother died in the summer of 1980. She lived in a small town in Louisiana for most of her life with my grandpa (whom I’ve written of on these pages before). Mother of nine, she saw two of her sons precede her to Paradise. I remember her strength and her tenderness to me when I was a young mr. man (notice the lowercase).

While funerals are often sad occasions, they don’t always have to be. Our family would celebrate amid the sorrow by getting together after the burial to remember the deceased with food, drink, and memories of the good times. Such was the case after Grandma’s funeral.

(“what does any of this have to do with Mocha Dad, a chicken, and yours truly?” you might ask. Here’s how…

Mocha Dad (when he was just a Mocha Lad) & I were hanging out on the back porch of our

This Is How The Story Ends. Photo Credit to nonitocabrera.blogspot.com

grandparents’ house. All of the food wasn’t quite ready. Truth be told, we were bored. Cool just to hang out, nothing much to do, really. Then my Aunt Eva came onto the back porch and said in her broken creole,

“Y’all go fetch one of dem chickens out de yard.”

What?!?

Times were different then. If an elder instructed you to do do something, then you did it. No questions asked. Otherwise you risked getting beat until the “white meat” showed facing dire consequences.

Mocha Dad and I looked at each other incredulously. We were not about to disobey Aunt Eva’s command, but we both knew we had no intentions of touching those chickens either. After all, they were dirty, smelly, had big fangs and evil eyes (at least that’s how our young minds perceived them to be). How do we get out of this?

We leave the porch and start walking through the yard. There were several fowls around us, pecking and scratching, minding their own business. Waiting to attack ferociously if disturbed. Finally, we focus on one of the less intimidating birds. We walk towards it and it scoots away. We approach it again and it moves away again eyeballing us the whole time. Then we break out into a half-hearted pursuit. The chicken takes off, clucking (I’m sure it was laughing at our pathetic efforts to catch it). It was obvious to this bird-brain that we weren’t really trying and it was in no danger whatsoever.

After about fifteen minutes of “chasing” the bird”, Aunt Eva comes back out to see what was taking so long. I can only imagine what was going on in her mind watching two city boys dancing the salsa with this chicken. I didn’t have to imagine what she was thinking because she told us upfront,

“Y’all ain’t no ‘count!” Translated-You two are of no good account. You are the sorriest excuses of chicken catchers I have ever seen in all my years. Both of you should just crawl back into your mother’s’ wombs and cry yourselves to sleep. Girlie Men!

With that, this elderly woman hitched up her Sunday dress and broke out into a full sprint. She caught that chicken in no time flat! Grabbed it by its neck and, to our horror, spun it around like a yo-yo.

She dropped the chicken and looked at us with disgust as the poor bird did its death dance. When the bird stopped moving, she picked it up and took it inside to prepare it for dinner, mumbling about how worthless we were the whole time.

Despite the tongue-lashing we received, Mocha Dad and I felt like we got away with murder. The ploy worked. We didn’t have to touch that nasty bird and all we got out of it were a few insults from our great aunt.

I wonder what she would say now about her nephew (who is now an avid waterfowl hunter) if she were still alive. Would she be impressed? Would she be proud?

No. She’d probably say, “You still ain’t no ‘count. You have to shoot dem birds, but you still cain’t catch ‘em!”

God bless her soul.

Mr. Man

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March 18th, 2011

Mr. Man's Random Thoughts, Uncategorized

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Neglected Lover

Continuing on with the drudgery of things that must be done, I lament a lover who has been neglected for far too long. I am amazed at her patience with me. That she even puts up with the lack of attention that she as gotten from me lately. Yet, she’s always there when I return. Waiting. Patiently. Wanting me to pour my heart out to her as I have done so many times in the past.

I’ve allowed myself to become caught up. Caught up in in my work and school. Too many hours committed to necessary pursuits that offer no promise of happiness. At the end of it all, I’m simply too exhausted to give her the attention she deserves. She deserves so much more than I have been able to give her lately.

There is so much I want to tell her. I want to share with her my innermost thoughts and desires. I want to discuss with her what’s going on in my life. I want to share even the most mundane occurances in my life, yet I can’t seem to find the words.

I am amazed that she sticks around. That she is still there even when I put other things before her. No one else would put up with neglect. Neglect is is a passive form of abuse in which the perpertrator is responsible for providing care to a victim who cannot take care of themselves. I am that perpetrator. She is the victim of my malaise.

All I can say to her is that I’m sorry. I will try to be more attentive to her. I will try to work harder to open up to my negected lover. The name of that lover is …

…my blog*.

(*What did you think I was talking about?)

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January 11th, 2011

The Water Cooler

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The Water Cooler

I met Penny in the office kitchen. Penny, a co-worker of mine, was pouring herself a cup of coffee. I saw Penny last night at the neighborhood H.E.B. where I was picking up a few supplies for the week.

This morning, near the water cooler as I poured a cuppa joe, I kidded Penny and said, “If you had stuck around last night, I would have let you pay for my groceries.” We laughed and commented how we saw several people from the office in the grocery store last night.

Rolanda walked by and overheard the conversation. Rolanda was another colleague that I saw at the grocery store last night. I mentioned to Rolanda that I saw her, but she was on the phone. I didn’t want to interrupt her conversation. She replied, “You could have interrupted. I didn’t want to talk to that person anyway.” The three of us laughed as Thad walks by the water cooler.

We all began to share stories about how our parents and grandparents and their attitudes about food. How they grew up in the great Depression. Even when food was plentiful (as it is for many people today), they still had a tendency to stock up due to a subconscious fear of not having enough. Penny told us how her mother would shop three different gorcery stores in order to get the best deals. She also told how her mother would buy corn and freeze it because that was what they did on the dairy farm. This led to me telling the story of the epic battle between a 7-yo Mr. Man, Mocha Dad, and a chicken (another post for another day, I promise). This is about the time the boss walked into the kitchen.

Thad passed back by the water cooler and couldn’t help but share his own corn story. Something about mules, tough corn, and broken teeth. Which led to more stories about farms, grocery stores, and the boss telling a tale of mischievious boys and flying headless chickens. Go figure.

We all began to walk away from the water cooler. As we did, we began to slip back into our work personas. The person who is sometimes too busy to say “good morning”. The person who is adversarial for no- good reason. The person who unneccessarily chews someone out because they can. The same people who will not smile at another person in the office because it is not “professional”.

For about 15 minutes this morning around the water cooler, everyone dropped the personas and simply became themselves. Human and real. No facades. No arrogance. All equal. Laughing, talking, and sharing with no pretenses or agendas.

It was kinda cool.

Mr. Man

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January 4th, 2011

Mr. Man's Random Thoughts

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“you know…that black guy”

Football season, for my beloved Houston Texans ended this past Sunday. For reasons, primarily on the defensive side of the ball, the Texans finished 6-10, three fewer wins than the previous season. The fans (yours truly included) have been out for blood from the coaching staff. And it finally happened today. Here is an abbrieviated version of a watercooler conversation between two co-workers:

“Did you hear? The Texans fired their entire defensive coaching staff!”

“Really? Who are they looking to hire to run the defense?”

“I hear Wade Phillips (former head coach of the Dallas Cowboys) is a strong candidate.”

“That guy would be a good a good choice. You know who else I think would be a good candidate for the job?”

“Who’s that?”

“Marvin Lewis.”

“Who?”

“You know…that black guy who coaches the Cincinnati Bengals.”

I know these two co-workers. They’re good men. Nor am I leveling any charge of racism, overt or implied. To do so would be to cry wolf. It is a very serious imputation to call someone racist unless it is painfully obvious that it is indeed the case.

What I am wondering is why is it necessary to even make the distinction that Marvin Lewis is a black man in the first place?

I hear this in conversation on occassion, but more frequently than I’d like to. Despite the fact that I am writing this post, it isn’t something that bothers me (because typically it is simply being used as a descriptor, not with the intent to demean or insult). However, it is something that I notice.

If all men are created equal, then why is is necessary to use race as an adjective unless race is an issue? It is one thing to have a discussion on race where an individual’s race is relevant. However, why isn’t a football coach simply a football coach? In all fairness, this type of racial distinction happens on every side of the ethnic fence.

Maybe it is simply a matter of regional or cultural linguistics. Maybe it is something more subtle such as the subconcious perceptions that we all have about other races.

I don’t claim to know the answer. I write only to promote the discussion. Food for thought…let me know yours by commenting below.

Mr. Man

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September 23rd, 2010

Faith and Religion

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Baptist leader decries “Pulpit Freedom Sunday”

Photo courtesy of www.humanevents.com

I get tons of requests to publish “press releases” every day. Typically, these are relegated to “File 13″ because I am not necessarily interested in pushing someone else’s agenda. However, I found this one to be of particular interest. See below…

September 23, 2010

WASHINGTON, D.C. — The effort to recruit pastors to endorse political candidates from the pulpit on Sept. 26 is a misguided idea and a brazen attempt to blend the worship of God with electoral politics, said a Baptist leader, constitutional scholar and church-state expert.

J. Brent Walker, executive director of the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty, said the Alliance Defense Fund’s plan to provoke investigations of these houses of worship by the Internal Revenue Service could risk the tax-exempt status of the churches. ADF lawyers would then challenge the investigations in court.

Walker says “Pulpit Freedom Sunday” is a misnomer because pulpits already are free in this country. He calls the idea “misguided” because it is unnecessary, divisive and corrosive.

“Pulpit Freedom Sunday is entirely unnecessary. Preachers are perfectly free to interpret and apply scripture as they see fit, speak out on the great moral and ethical issues of the day, and urge good citizenship practices, such as registering to vote and voting,” Walker said. “The only thing they can’t do — in exchange for the most favored tax exempt status — is to tell the faithful how to vote.

“In every church I know of, it would be like setting off a bomb shell in the sanctuary for the preacher to tell the congregants how to pull the lever in the voting booth,” Walker said. “It would be incredibly corrosive of the church’s true mission to spread the gospel and be salt and light in the culture. As soon as the church throws in with a particular candidate or party, its prophetic edge is blunted. You can’t raise a prophet’s fist at a candidate or party when, with the other arm, you are locked in a tight bear hug. “

Food for thought, isn’t it? Freedom of religion is under attack in this country. Those who believe in the Judeo-Christian principles this country was founded on are consistently seeing their rights being subjugated toward a more “politically correct” worldview. Now with “Pulpit Freedom Sunday”, the boundaries between church and state are becoming even more blurry. The change in language that the current administration is using (“freedom of worship” as opposed to “freedom of religion”) is another attempt to modify the standards that the Founders put in place 234 years ago and have served us well to this point.

Is it really necessary to have a “Pulpit Freedom Sunday” when, as the press release stated, clergy all across America have the freedom to discuss the issues of the day in the context of their faith on any given Sunday morning?

What do you think?

Mr. Man

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