Troubled Man

To get to heaven sometimes you have to go through hell

I find myself writing this when in actuality I should be working on my dissertation. Unfortunately, I am a bit preoccupied with the residue of previous bastards of my life. A colleague called me to share deep concern about what is and what is not right. In one regard I was flattered while on the other hand I was flabbergasted that someone would consider me a moral compass. I am about as chaotic neutral as one could be. For example, there are somethings I am just aggressively passionate about: my family, my philosophical sense of right and wrong, and coming to the aid of my friends, family and fellow humankind oh I forgot, social justice and advocacy for those who cannot advocate for themselves. (Sounds like a film noir anti hero) To put it bluntly, I don't like being screwed over and the only thing worse than me being screwed over is seeing those I care about getting screwed. Ok that sets the context. Liberation and emancipation are expensive. It cost money, time, and in some cases, even bloodshed. In other writings, I've said and still maintain that I am a pacifist. I don't like confrontation. By no means do I promote the use of physical violence to address conflict. However, I am a strong believer in the concepts of self defense, negotiation, and cerebral, intellectual, and symbolic violence. Self defense is self explanatory. If one puts hands on me or my family in anyway other than acts demonstrative of love and humanity, then those actions must be met not by equal, but superior force to sufficiently neutralize or severely incapacitate said individual. I hate to put it in those terms but it must be exact and unswervingly clear. Thats the intellectual way of saying, in hip hop terms, "you know the code of the street," On to the other strategies I mention, negotiation, cerebral, intellectual and symbolic violence, ironically, I take part of that from my dog, part for Bordieu, and one part which is strictly orgional.
Tune in for part 2

The Art of Putting Bastards In Check

This is bittersweet entry I have to write but it is my hope that this entry will inspire others to know how and when to put your own friendly neighborhood bastard in check. Recently I completed reading a book called "The No Asshole Rule." Wonderful book for dealing with asses in the workplace. In my particular situation, there was an I ass I worked with named David. I'll be nice and not mention his last name. In fact everybody I am sure has their own Achilles heal they have to work with. My grandfather had one named Joe Hester, my Aunt had one named Jan and my wife has her own. In my case David was a real kid spelled backwards if you catch my meaning. Yesterday i had to go to a funeral of a dear friend, mentor, and colleague. Dr. Friedrick Jones was my department chair and assistant dean where I use to work. He was instrumental in hiring David, who became our department chair in mass comm. In the midst of his interview something didn't ring true about one of his answers, something about why he left a university in Louisiana according to David, he stated that he left the university due to hurricane Rita. In the back of my mind I was thinking, "You were a department chair, brand new and a hurricane blows in and then you leave?" To me it was a red flag certainly in my mind an indicator or even predictor of his character. Prior to his arrival, I took the liberty to have a beer with some people who knew him in a work capacity and there I wasn't getting anything positive. I think the real deal breaker for me was when he started trashing my school during his interview. I think the comment was something like oh Central is so far behind in their department of mass communication. Before he went any further, I had to politely caution him that I was a graduate of NCCU and the same Mass Comm Program. So in a nut shell, I didn't like the guy. Call it intuition call it the third eye, all I know is that I got a negative vibe on the guy. But because we live in a democratic society, and I was outvoted, he was hired. Within his first year he reeked so much havoc and turmoil in the department and on the campus that he knocked off he dean, tried to fire me without any due process and basically became Asshole number 1-5. Dr. Jones, who could not stomach the gross injustice that was being committed told the administration in spades that what they did was unethical, wrong and simply something he couldn't do. So he left but not without saying on his heart what needed to be said. Not only did he expose David for being the fraud that he was, but he also labeled the administration as being hypocritical and pretty much took a moral and ethical stand for me. Regrettably, he died and I strongly suspect it was due to David. Dr. Jones was an assistant dean at shaw and elected to go back to the grunt work of being a frontline teacher, teaching a total of 7 classes at the age of 66. He died of phenomena and I really think that happened due to a compromised immune system. He worked himself to death. During the funeral, I have never cried at a home-going but this one, I did. To me he was the man who took the "bullet" for me and a few others. At his funeral David made an appearance. I couldn't believe it. It was psychotic in my opinion for that bastard to have the nerve to show up. Dr. Jones put it in writing that the guy was slime in two different newspapers. So in my mind, what part of you shouldn't be at this funeral did he not understand. -- Here is where we get to the art of putting bastards in check. After the burial my mother insisted I come home because I was still somewhat shaken. I agreed and so driving to mom's house I had to pass Shaw university. As I was driving past, I actually saw David getting out of his car going into a building. Grief stricken and somewhat disappointed I made a quick detour parked right beside his car. I then went into the building said, "Robinson, he said, "What are you doing in here?" He was obviously surprised to see me. "We need to talk." he attempted to rebuff me by saying "He would not speak to me without a third party." I'm why are you afraid to talk. Again, he tried to maintain some semblance power and control, so finally I broke, he said "I'm not entertaining this conversation." "I'm calling security" So I then responded saying, "Fine, I talk you listen!" (mind you, I've only seen that done in the movies :-) "I buried a dear, close personal friend of mine today." He said, "I'm there with you on that." "You are nowhere even close. You are going to have to pay for what you did to Dr. Jones, I wanted you to know that." Then I walked out....To my audience please pardon what you are about to read--(Damn it felt good stepping to his bitch made punk ass) Of course being that I have a conscious I felt bad to me what was disrespectful but I had something to get off my chest. I didn't take weaselly way out, I talked to him man to punk and served him notice. Now I am not a violent person, in fact I am pacifist. I don't want anything violent or destructive to happen to this man, in fact, I think this might be the thing that makes me go back to church so I can learn to forgive my debtors. This forgiveness thing is going to be haaaard. I just wanted to make sure he knew how I felt and still I want to move forward.