Washington, DC

“what does it mean to live in a city (country, world-pick one) which televises -or chooses to televise the funeral of a football player? a man whose tragic ( and, alas, most american of deaths) demise is-yes-tragic-but somehow more important than-oh-the metaphorical sean taylors around us (the delontes and rashawns who die at the hand of the
gun every day… ) we got more cold cases than the corner liquor store…. few four day closure rates when someone who didn’t entertain us dies…don’t get me wrong… full disclosure time. i love football. (not the dc team with the nasty name-but i do). and as a black man, i am so tired of the self inflicted mayhem we put on each other (sorry, juan
williams-but i don’t think black people have become different races) so yeah-im sorry that the earth opens again and swallows another young person… but something is troubling me-and it isn’t just the sight of those suburban fans(-many of whom distinguish between the “good ones”and “bad ones”-you know, black people) cheering for no 21 before
heading back to woodbridge or somewhere like that… why do we (consciously or not) value those people deemed “somebody” (versace, princess di-jfk junior-oh my) more than we cherish theheartbeat next door?  something is wrong with us-and i don’t think a double skim latte will fix it .. but you know me.. im that weird kid who sat in the back of
the class and contributed “odd” facts to discussions about, say, the history of Pennsylvania… im just saying…”


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