Mason Says

Economics 101 taught me the relationship between supply and demand in the market place. It's rather simple; the theory makes dollars and sense. Watching said theory being put into practice from the floor of a department store, however, is priceless. Let me rewind the tape. A little over a month ago I dropped part one of The Man in the Land Down Under, where I introduced the suggestion that men's briefs aka tighty whities are the equivalent of man panties (mp's). But it wasn't until afterward that I really began to notice the heavy inventory of mp's that stores are still stocking (and presumably selling). At the time I penned the post, mp's just seemed like good fodder; it was funny to me. But now I realize that in accordance with the theory of supply and demand, men have an actual present day panty problem. Click Here to Finish Reading

Continued: This is not a good look for men. If mp's are in the rotation, let me suggest reading or re-reading part one on this subject. Also, I'd like to offer the following lyrics from the King of Pop. He left us with instructions:

I'm Starting With The Man In The Mirror I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways
And No Message Could Have Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place
Take A Look At Yourself, And Then Make A (wait for it) Change
Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na, Na Nah

On Wednesday, I posted "Five Things About Metro-Savvy Men". At some point in that post, I dropped a reference to the Whispers and their penchant for suit coats with too many buttons. For my readers not familiar with the Whispers, an R&B group from the 80's, check the photo to the left. In fact, click the photo to see the full scale version. Need I say more? A metro-savvy man does not evolve into this look. And I'm sorry, but hot pink suits complete with monograms and gold encrusted buttons are wrong. Showmanship doesn't require an assortment of colors akin to a bag of Skittles. Yeah, yeah...I know they weren't (all) black, but imagine the Rat Pack donning hot pink suits. Hot pink makes a nice dress shirt or tie but never a suit. Frank would smash a glass of $200 Scotch over someone's head if he tried to roll with him like that and then have him 'offed' by his mob cronies. Look, I'm not saying that the Whispers should be executed. But, oh my damn, can someone buy these synchronized high steppin' bushy faced bastards some mirrors? One

Definition is half the battle. About a year ago, I found myself struggling to put my life and lifestyle into language. As a writer/blogger, being able to articulate who I am is oxygen . Without the ability to do so, I'm an emotional and psychological claustrophobe. The definition of self opens locked doors and clears the path so I can walk with a swagger. It pulls back the window blinds on my worldview so I can see clearly and think with a vision. I'm talking about being a metro-savvy man, a term that I've coined to describe men like myself. To borrow from my prelude above, life is too short to live unfocused, to drink cheap beer, to dress like we don't own mirrors and to claim video gaming as a main hobby. It's about realizing that it's what we learn after we think we know it all that counts. Style, substance and sensibilities matter. With that, let me roll out the first installment of "Five Things About a Metro-Savvy Man".
Click Here to Read Finish Reading The Five Things

Continued:

Five Things About Metro-Savvy Men

1) Metro-sexual: First, it needs to be said that a metro-savvy man knows the term metro-sexual is not synonymous with homosexual, not that it really matters that much to him anyway. However, he still cringes at the label of metro-sexual because the world is full of half-wits, who can't appreciate a man who takes care of himself and dares to dress like everything in his wardrobe isn't a bad Father's Day gift. Yes, the thought counts. And, damn it, whether you choose to put it into your wardrobe rotation counts too. I digress. What I'm saying is the term metro-sexual is forever tainted and tarnished. Did I say the masses are asses? Just checking. That aside, the other reality at play is the term metro-sexual is limiting and somewhat superficial. It lacks the substance and sensibilities of being metro-savvy.

2.) World travel: The metro-savvy man wants to travel to as many different countries as possible, including Cuba before the complete collapse of communism when America floods it with McDonalds and cable spring break specials. He also knows that a cruise ship layover in Mexico doesn't really count as traveling abroad no matter how frustrating the language barrier might be.

3.) Suits: The metro-savvy man never wears a suit with more than three buttons and really prefers two. He's also too busy to explain it because he has moves to make; outpacing his 5 button suit wearing competitor, who's busy still buttoning his coat. The metro-savvy man will stop for a second, however, to share with his shorter brethren that the fewer buttons a jacket has the longer the lapels, which make one look less vertically challenged. Conversely, he will tell Big Pimpin' that the more buttons a suit has the more you're at risk of being confused as a replacement member of The Whispers.

4.) Porn: The metro-savvy knows good porn from bad porn and isn't ashamed to admit. Women who look like they haven't been to the hair dresser in a couple of months coupled with a dude who's sporting some serious beads taco meat on his chest, while going at it in some poorly lit room at the Ramada doesn't cut it. Speaking of cut it, women with wounds from a bar brawl last year are also unacceptable. If the metro-savvy man likes porn, he doesn't ask his co-worker or cousin if he can borrow some of their bottom shelf selection. He knows better.

5.) Designer Jeans: The metro-savvy man knows that fitted jeans are designer jeans that are "designed" and cut to fit properly in a flattering and stylish way. He knows the fashionable fitted look is not achieved by going cheap and buying a pair of ball hugging Levi's. All this achieves is confirming you're a dad or that you should be one. However, with those tight ass Levi's, you may not be one in anytime time soon. The metro-savvy man also knows how and how not to reproduce successfully.

This is the first list of more to come. As with anything in life, there are always exceptions to the rules. But it's safe to say that if a man is unable to affirm four out of five, he isn't metro-savvy (yet). And he doesn't have to be. Some guys are content with being content. Ladies, those are your battles to fight. But for the guys who want to step up their game or already have, hopefully these installments will be helpful. Look for "Five (more) Things About Metro-Savvy Men" soon. One



P.S: Chana, I thought you would appreciate the list format...lol.


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If you're brand new to Mason Says, you may have missed my recent post "Why Bigger Isn't Always Better". I explore the misconception that men are obsessed with breast size. It's true that we like to occasionally splash around in shallow waters, but most of us prefer to spend our time at the deeper end. Nothing like a good breaststroke. Never mind. I think you get what I'm trying to say. You can find the post in my archives, including the 20 or so comments. You can also click here, where it's most recently published on Black Voices and also receiving a steady flow of reader commentary. One

For the first time in a long time, I found myself at a fitness center the other day. Muscle memory my ass. The day after feels more like muscle amnesia. But the soreness I feel due to a 12 month hiatus from working out is trivial and temporary compared to what's really bothering me. There are things more problematic I'm reminded. Things that never change. I'm talking about the unneeded narcissism of the pre and post workout experience.

Plain talk. I'm not keen on the gratuitous... Click Here to Finish Reading

Continued: Plain talk. I'm not keen on the gratuitous male nudity that I'm exposed to every time I go enter a locker room at one of these fitness facilities. And, if you're a regular reader of this blog, you know that I'm not homophobic in the least. What you may not know, however, is I'm very much bromophobic (broh-moh-phobic). A bromophobe is someone like myself, man or woman, who takes issue with bromances, the non-sexual but unnecessarily close and often juvenile relationship between two or more straight men. They're the ones who are being humorous and honest when they say things like "I love you man" and "bros before hoes". Captain Kirk and Spock, Fred and Barney, the lead characters in any Adam Sandler movie – those guys. It could be you and your best friend or your husband and his.

And therein lies the problem. It's not the actual parade of male nudity that bothers me. It's the pomp and circumstance of it. The bromosexuals, as I call them, want to prove themselves, not only to their workout buddies, but to the other causal bystanders chugging protein shakes and admiring their post-workout physique in the mirror, only to see it deflate 45 minutes later. They will go to great lengths, literal or figurative, to demonstrate that they're part of the imaginary team and that they're totally unaffected by self-consciousness. They're the often unhung heroes who stroll from the showers to the lockers with no towel, as to non-verbally say “it's all good, my man, it’s all good”. But it's not. There is nothing worse than being a witness to casual conversation between nude buddies, well, other than being asked by buddy-less nude guy "how about those Yankees", as he attempts to convert you to bromosexuality.

It’s like hearing that another season of American Idol has record ratings; I find myself asking time and time again, is this really happening? Look, I know glorified karaoke when I see it and I know bromosexuals, even when they’re on the down low. I can spot one a mile away. Wait. This is a good time for me to reiterate that bromosexuals are not gay, just in case there is confusion. They're your decisively straight garden variety boyfriends, husbands, and fathers, plus a few actual homophobes, who turn out to be ironically intolerant once they get dressed and exit the locker room.

I think this all goes back to the fascination with sports and man's need to feel a part of the team. It transcends race, age and size. This is how we're socialized - have balls, play ball, and, when you're done, hit the showers and show balls. Dads have longed admonished their teenagers: "Be a man son. Only a wuss wouldn't drop ‘trou’ and go full monty in front of his brethren, even the black guys. No, it's not a myth but just do it anyway junior. "

Listen, I'm not saying that men should wear flesh tone wet suits when in the locker room. I'm just asking you to recognize that this isn't a sports movie and its requisite locker room scene after a big win. No hot female reporter is about to walk in and become smitten with you, while you say something crass and unoriginal like "sweetie, football is a game of inches". Just recognize where you are and who you are. We're grown men who have crossed over to the other side. We're no longer athletic specimens and many of us never were. So as spectators, we shouldn't subject each other to the unsightly scene of bodies everywhere losing the war of gravity. Shut up, get dressed, and get back to not being creepy. I’d appreciate it. One


The Takeaways:

1.) Again, I’m not suggesting that moving parts aren’t normal and acceptable in a fitness center locker room. What I am suggesting is use a towel liberally and minimize the nude buddy conversations until you at least have your boxers or man panties on.

2.) It’s not the penises that are a problem. It’s the proximity of the penises. There are rules of personal space at play. Respect the them. It's good locker room etiquette.

3.) Fellas, don’t use this post as an excuse to waste time wondering what happens in women’s locker rooms. I’ve already wasted enough time for you. It took everything in me NOT to drop the word “coed” somewhere in this post and, yet, at the very end I failed.

Bonus Takeaway) Wouldn't it be funny as hell to actually hear Captain Kirk say to Spock "bros before hoes"? I'm not a fan of the derogatory terminology, but funny is funny.



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So this one is an unexpected post. Late yesterday afternoon, my editor at Black Voices emailed me a topic suggestion, that I accepted with some trepidation. The email might as well have started with "if you choose to accept this assignment, you'll have to tightrope an electrical high wire, while carrying a leaky pail of water, without electrocuting yourself...good luck rookie". The challenge before me was to explore this notion that when men cheat it's with less attractive women, while women, who cheat, do so with more successful men. Getting loose on such a subject, in my typical irreverent style, without upsetting the home front or without some of my readers feeling like I just put them on blast is no easy feat. With that said, wish me luck because the deed is done. And, actually, I think I successfully pulled it off without alienating anybody. I think. Check the post and let me know your thoughts. Click Here to Read

Last week, I announced that I signed on to be the newest blogger at AOL's Black Voices. This week, my first post is live and running. It's a piece titled Lifestyle vs. Wifestyle: Did She Change You? And speaking of change, nothing has. I'm still speaking my mind for better or for worse. The only difference is the platform is larger, much larger. But I'll still be putting it down here at Mason Says. In fact, check back Friday for a new post. For now, check out my debut at Black Voices, as I put these candy-@ss men on blast, who can't figure out how to be happy husbands and maintain their male cool and identify at the same time. I've done it. It appears that Barack has done it. Whether a blogger, a president or anything in between, every man can do it. Okay, almost every man. And, trust me, the relationship will be better for it. Click Here to Read and please leave your comments there. Thanks for all the support. One

(Sidebar Post) If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I would have never believed it. This past weekend, Bud Adams, Tennessee Titans owner, put up twin middle fingers from his luxury box for all in the stadium to see including the cameras. For much of the day, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell was a guest in Adam's suite, but apparently not present when the old curmudgeon went Tu "eff the wrold" Pac with it. Apparently, Goodell was in another part of the stadium when it happened and subsequently issued the $250,000 fine that was levied. Check the discussion and the footage of the pixelated middle fingers below. Roll Tape.
Click Here to See Video

Roll Tape!

Disclosure: I consider myself to be a well dressed man. I pay attention to fashion, fabrics and fit. I care about the color, contour and cut. Yes, I can be a little extra sometimes. But even the best of us have those days where we sit at work lamenting our choice of attire for the day. For me, today was one of those days. Click Here to Finish Reading

Continued: It’s something that I seldom do, but today I wore a black suit to work. And around mid-morning, the full length mirror in the men’s bathroom tapped me on my shoulder and reminded me of why I rarely do this. Black suits for men are a fashion delicacy and hard to pull off in the work place. It’s like searching for sushi at Long John Silvers; not the best idea. But women can wear black to work and look great; totally proper and appropriate. Men, on the other hand, we tend to look a little too formal, either that or too ‘Hollywood’ for the office. I thought that if I paired it with a white subtle pinstriped shirt I could get away with it. Now, I’m realizing that made matters worse. The mirror doesn’t lie. As I stood there, I thought to myself “damn don’t you have a casket to help carry or a gold statue to go accept”.

There was a time when the rules were simple. Black suits were only for funerals, weddings, and other formal affairs. Now, the rules for black are diluted by shades of gray, seducing an otherwise fairly savvy dresser like myself into thinking “I can make this work”; famous last words for a fashion casualty. But it could have been worse. I could have gone monochromatic with it – black suit, black shirt, black tie. Decisively unacceptable. No self-respecting man ought to dress like Regis Philbin circa 2002. A man might as well grab a light saber, pronounce himself to be Darth Vader and go father a scrawny white kid named Luke that he won’t claim until a climatic duel to the death (or however the story goes).

The black suit may be high fashion in some quarters, but not at high noon on a Monday at the office. Wearing one, you should be at a swanky bar ordering a fine Scotch, not ‘kickin’ it’ at the water cooler. But to help mitigate my fashion faux pas, I took the jacket off to lighten things up a bit. It helped. I wish I could assist my co-worker, however, who came in wearing an aqua colored dressed shirt. He should have put his jacket back on. There is always someone who makes you feel better isn’t there? Look, if I had the sense of humor to dub myself the slim reaper today, then it’s only fair that I referred to dude as Aqua Boogie. How could I resist? One


The Takeaways:

1.) According to a lot of fashion taste makers, black suits in the work place are now acceptable, but still not advised. Trust me.

2.) If you insist on wearing one, and it’s not a funeral or a formal affair, splash a powder blue dress shirt against it to dress it down. And, for the love of God, don’t even think about rocking a pocket square of any type, unless you have an acceptance speech tucked away somewhere.

3.) Women, get involved. Help your men with this. Typically, you’re the fashionistas in the relationship. If he needs your help, offer it. If he doesn’t need your help, appreciate the fact that you have a savvy dresser in your life. When it comes to men, we’re not exactly a dime a dozen.



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A new study shows that men who marry highly educated women have longer life expectancy. I can go a lot of different directions with this one. I can caution my unmarried brethren to make sure they check a woman’s ashy to classy barometer before getting too serious. I can also suggest to the married men out there that if your wife isn’t highly educated, don’t worry because it’s not the years in your life, but rather it’s the life in your years that really matter. Either that or tell the wifey to get online and find some scholarships.

A part of me that wants... Click Here to Finish Reading

Continued: A part of me wants to dismiss the study, but another part of me wants to dissect it. It’s always been accepted, whether it’s true or not, that men who are married, education aside, live longer than unmarried men. That seems totally plausible. Marriage has the ability to save us from ourselves. From the time most of us are born, men that is, we are on a fast track to self-destruction. If you have a son, whether he is six or sixteen, you have certainly said to yourself it’s amazing that this child hasn’t killed himself yet. It’s our nature. We’re aggressive. We’re relentless. We’re stupid (at times). Well into adulthood the self-destructive mode is always running, even if it’s in the background operating in stealth form.

This is where the educated woman comes in. If she’s anything like my wife, she’s a walking Wikipedia – filled with a lot of good information along with some erroneous unchecked factoids, like the time she suggested the rash on my foot might be a sign of diabetes. Thanks for the scare Mrs. Jamal. I ran around for a month thinking I might I have "the suga". But better safe than sorry, as they say. The study notes that a man’s education is far less important than his spouse’s when it comes to life expectancy. Again, it’s totally consistent with everything I know about myself and other men. The term "educated fools" comes to mind. It doesn’t matter how much we know, because men tend to make medical decisions based on convenience and proximity of the problem to the penis. The closer it is to the equipment, the more concerned we grow and more likely we are to get it checked out. The further away the symptoms are, like our heart or something, forget about it. It can wait until after the game. No, it can wait until after the season.

Having said all that, I suggest that no man marries or stays married for these reasons. There has to be more, not just five more years of old age and dementia. Quality of life trumps the quantity of years, in my mind. One


No takeaways today.



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I've been sitting quietly on this one for a a few weeks waiting for things to be finalized. I'm happy to share that just a few days ago I signed a contract with AOL's Black Voices (BV). The executives at BV took an interest in my blog and want me to share my weekly musings with their millions of monthly readers. Needless to say, I'm excited about the opportunity to do so, in addition to running MasonSays.com.

Thanks to everyone who has been reading and supporting me. It's not easy. Blogging at the rate that I do, working a full time PR job, being a father and husband, plus trying to get another internet enterprise off the ground leaves me with little time to sleep. It's a grind, but your support keeps me going.

Special thanks to Chana Garcia, who works for BV and writes her own blog as well. I met Chana in Chicago this past summer at the Blogging While Brown conference and she took immediate notice of what I was doing in my own little corner of the blogging universe. After checking me out for a few months, she fired off a few emails, which put everything in motion. I can't thank her enough.

Look for me next week. I'll keep you posted. One

(Sidebar content originally posted 11.12.09) A few days ago, I stumbled into an awkward Twitter exchange with writer/film producer Nelson George. It was about the documentary, Good Hair, that he executive produced and starring Chris Rock. The problem is I didn't know his involvement at the time I initiated the conversation. Lesson learned. Do your homework before coming to class. So I've come across another project that Nelson is currently involved in called Black Atlas, in which he documents his travels. He gives interesting tidbits on far flung places, some familiar, some not - including locations, which black people may not ordinarily think has any relevance or connection to them. It's definitely out of the box. Here is he on an excursion to Madrid. This is a life fully lived. Click Here to Watch Video


Roll Tape!

Despite the often light nature of my postings, every now and then my inner iconoclast emerges from the shadows to set fire to the court of public opinion. It’s an irrepressible urge. And that feeling came over me last night as I lay in bed watching CNN’s coverage of the execution of John Muhammad, the “D.C. Sniper”. I listened to a prison official tell the media “the process had gone smoothly”, an odd choice of words, I thought, to describe a murder. You know, sometimes I don’t have the energy to do it. But last night, to no avail, I found myself searching the soul of our society trying to locate something, anything that resembled a moral conscious. Click Here to Finish Reading

Continued: First, let’s cease with the semantics. Show me "capital punishment" and I’ll show you a “pre-owned” car. Show me a used car, however, and I’ll show you a state sanctioned homicide. Stop trying to window dress the reality of the situation by changing up the language. Call it what it is. Strapping someone onto a gurney and injecting him/her with a deadly intravenous cocktail, in the name of justice, isn’t even remotely humane and it certainly isn’t “smooth”. In fact, those involved - prosecutors, judges, governors, and prison officials - might as well strap on red or blue bandannas and do drive-bys.

Yes, I know what the arguments are. The general justification: he/she has it coming, an eye for an eye, that whole thing. Look, I’m not advocating that a justly convicted murderer be set free to mix and mingle. I’m a proponent of life prison terms without parole. And yes, I know as taxpayers we’ll have to foot the bill. Here’s the thing. We’ll be in the same tax bracket paying the same tax rate with or without state sanction homicides. Any money saved will be diverted overseas to fund the killing of suspected terrorists and, don’t forget, innocent women and children whom happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time also known conveniently as “collateral damage”. Consider it the death penalty for being born in the wrong country. I digress.

Wait ,wait, let me say it. What if said killer murdered family members of mine? I’d bet I’d be singing a different tune then, wouldn’t I? God forbid it happen. But if so, my position is the same. Find the killer, lock him up for life and kill the key. Think of me as Shaq in the late 90’s rocking the yellow and grape. I’ve staked out my position and nothing is moving me.

This is the high road that I’m taking, along with others who think like me, and I happen to like it up here. It’s a great worldview. We can see the forest for the trees. We navigate our emotions with the help of a moral compass. Our windshields aren’t covered with vengeance and spite. Up here, one takes the notion of “two wrongs don’t make a right” serious. We don’t make exceptions and veer off course because someone else did. In fact, those of us up here would argue that killing someone, whether you are a warden or warlord, governor or gang member is the worst possible time to abandon the philosophy that two wrongs don’t make a right. One.


The Takeaways:

1.) We live in a vengeful and bloodthirsty culture. The inability to see the inhumanity of state sanctioned homicides is chilling.

2.) Most of the world, including all of Europe, Canada, China, Japan and many Middle Eastern countries, has abolished the death penalty. But once again, the United States goes it alone minus a small coalition of the killing.

3.) The fact that Dave and Busters, for shits and giggles, used to feature a very low-brow low-voltage apparatus that resembled and simulated the electric chair (experience) says a whole hell of a lot about our culture.



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Fellas, sometimes you need to go the extra mile. This past weekend, Mrs. Jamal and I were invited to her friend's birthday soiree at a posh restaurant, where we joined dinner guests resembling a mini-United Nations gathering. Nothing like a little diversity with your dining. Although the restaurant, itself, was trying a tad too hard to be hip, I was nonetheless impressed by the experience and the guest of honor's husband who arranged the affair. The atmospherics were sexy, the food was fantastic (minus the soup), and the conversation was the icing on the cake. And I'm not the husband, who goes to these things without kicking and screaming. But this time, I have to say that I had a very enjoyable time.

I thought to myself, this is how you do it. Every man, with the resources, should have the style, substance and sensibilities to pull this off when planning a birthday dinner -whether it's for two or twenty. It's not unreasonable. You see, this is less about what TO DO and much more about what NOT to do. Let me run down Mason Jamal's "hell to the nah" checklist for planning a memorable birthday dinner.
Click Here to Finish Reading

Continued:
1.) If you have a Cheesecake Factory in your vicinity, resist. Your criteria should include places that take reservations. Camping out for two hours in the standing room only bar or, worse, on the mall floor outside the restaurant to get a birthday table is not a good start to the evening.

2.) Speaking of Cheesecake Factory, any place featuring a menu that's extensive enough to require chapters and crass enough to sell advertising space is a problem. It's a sign of culinary attention deficit disorder. There is no quicker way to a mediocre dining experience than to pick a restaurant that tries to please everyone. Mi abuleo taught me that a long time ago. And if she really wants a piece of their cheesecake, stop by afterwards for desert when the dinner crowd has thinned out. Thank me later.

3.) What I'm really saying is, avoid the chain restaurants. Just because it doesn't have a drive-thru and two pull up windows with people working it, who can't figure out their ass from their face, let alone your order, doesn't mean it's acceptable. If for some unimaginable reason you're not sure if it's a chain or not, ask yourself if there is a Wal-Mart, Target, Best Buy or a full scale shopping mall on the adjacent corner. Another indicator is whether or not the wait staff is encouraged to wear hats and/or visible suspenders. If so, that's a deal breaker.

4.) If you do end up at a chain, such as an Applebee's or Fridays, let me give you a suggestion. Do Not. I said Do Not share the birthday news with the wait staff. This isn't good for anybody. No one wants this. The wait staff doesn't want it. Your girlfriend/wife doesn't want it. And the other diners, trust me, definitely don't want it. Oh, you know what I'm talking about. No one wants to see and hear the spectacle of waiters and waitresses parading over to your table, singing an off-key rendition of Happy Birthday, while obnoxiously slamming their serving trays together, only to have a third of them roll their eyes, as they walk away sheepishly after that embarrassing (chain) restaurant ritual. In fact, during the aforementioned birthday dinner I attended this weekend, Happy Birthday wasn't even sung at all. I like that. Maybe it's me, but every time I'm roped into singing happy birthday, especially in public, I can't look at myself in the mirror for at least two hours.

5.) This would be a good time to suggest, that for the birthday dinner, your best bet is to escape the suburbs also known as the land of potato skins, as quickly as possible. Yes, I know. We all love good potato skins with a sheet of sour cream on top. But let's find something a little more flavorful and less artery-clogging for the birthday. Along those lines, fried macaroni balls aren't exactly the appetizers of champions nor a female aphrodisiac. Men may be ready to 'bump uglies' after two drafts and some fried macaroni balls, but not women (not on their birthday).

6.) Be sure you choose a place that is known for great service. Once again, chain restaurants will be low on that list. If you're anything like my father circa 1983, from whom I get it honest, you don't want to risk embarrassing the guest of honor and any other friends or family by unnecessarily suggesting that race might be a factor for bad service. There are only two cards you should ever brandish for a successful birthday dinner. One is the birthday card and the second is the credit card. Keep the race card in your pocket.

So there you have it - Mason Jamal's "hell to the nah" birthday checklist. Follow this simple guidance and you can't go wrong. Keep it classy fellas. One.


The Takeaways:
1.) I'm not saying that you have to take her to a five-star rated restaurant for her birthday, but I am saying that you should avoid any place that serves burgers with five layers of different cheese.

2.) Not sure where to find a great restaurant off the beaten path? Ask a friend or co-worker or, even better, find an online guide complete with reviews, menus and prices.



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(Blog Note: This originally posted September 16, 2009. It's one of my favorites. And since my readership has grown significantly since then, I thought I'd run this one again.)

Show me a man who still uses the word "coochie" and I'll show you a man that hasn't hit refresh on his sex glossary in the last twenty years. I'll also show you a colleague of mine. More on him in a minute. Bottom line men - the word "coochie" should be cleared from the hard drive. Clean out your cache, move files to the recycle bin, execute a memory dump, defrag....something. But as bizarre as hearing a grown man still use the word "coochie", it pales in comparison to the actual context in which I heard it used recently by my unidentified colleague. Here is the scene. We were approaching our gate at Laguardia when he hit me with an off-color remark about a woman who appeared to be gay.
Click Here to Finish Reading

Continued: As she walked past us strutting her lesbianism minding her business, the comment was intimated that "coochie is a terrible thing to waste". At the risk of wasting of time, I immediately said to him someone is enjoying it I'm sure. And if it's not you, why are you concerned? I've never really understood that part of the male psyche that gets insecure and weird-ed out by the idea that a woman has no interest in our kind. Reality is even if she was straight, chances are she wouldn't give either one of us the time of day anyway. Guys, if you want to hang on to your homophobia, leave it tucked away in your Bible. It's safe there. Out here, however, among those of us who choose not to cherry-pick scripture, we rather not listen to you wax homophobic about "coochies", "dykes", "fags" or anything else. Let's upgrade the dialogue. One


The Takeaways:

1.) Lesbian sightings are not the same as UFO sightings. You should act like you've seen one before because you have. Color commentary isn't required nor requested.

2.) Make a list of all the gender-specific slurs and crass sex terminology that was popular with you and your friends during your puberty years. Then remind yourself that you are now a grown-ass-man as you burn that list.

First time for everything. This entry marks the first guest post on Mason Says. And I can't imagine a better post to do it with. In this piece by Uppity Negro, originally posted on AverageBro, the topic of black men wearing fitted jeans vs. baggier jeans is examined and how labels of homosexuality and metro-sexuality are myopically attached to the trend. Like Uppity, I've also taken to the fitted look. I've grown real tired of my legs feeling like they're swimming in an ocean of fabric. But if that wasn't enough to tackle, Uppity suggests we delve even deeper into the issues of stereotypes and black masculinity as he ponders the newest fad of young black men wearing 'skinny jeans', which is an entirely different ball game. It's a great post. Click Here to Read


FITTED JEANS & MISFITTED IDEAS OF MASCULINITY
Guest Post from Uppity Negro

Last week was my birthday and since I couldn’t make my trip to Washington, D.C. for Howard’s Homecoming as I had planned (because I just got my refund check) I settled for heading out to see a homeboy in Birmingham. Given that this was my birthday week I had done a bit of mall shopping and as a result I had bought some fitted tees from Abercrombie and Fitch and some fitted jeans at this spot in Little Five Points here in Atlanta. When I got out the car, my friend busted out laughing when he saw what I had on.

Don’t get me twisted. He knows how to dress. His style is the typical sophisticated urban wear, but still most of his clothes are loose fitting. His close fit—that is to say you’d NEVER see him wearing the XXXL type stuff and wearing jeans sagging down to his knees. Nonetheless he busted out laughing and simply said “I guess I aint been to Atlanta lately.”

Now any black male knows what that comment really meant.

No, my friend wasn’t questioning my sexuality, but that was an under girding sentiment of the statement.

Here in Atlanta, and other parts of the northern Atlantic seaboard, what I had on wouldn’t even go part and parcel with my sexuality because we’ve come that far with fashion in the black community. Since the late 80s and the 1990s blacks have gone through various stages of clothes that fit versus clothes that were over sized and didn’t fit. In the 2000s, and actually more recently since I’ve graduated from high school, I’ve noticed a shift at least among black males who classify as the “pretty boys” to this metrosexual style. Metrosexual is generally associated with clothes that actually fit your measurements.

I’m all for it. AverageBro and some of the AverageCommunity are aware of how I really was digging Andre 3000’s Benjamin Bixby clothing line, and I’ve been known to rock a bowtie often enough. I rather enjoy the fall because it gives me an excuse to rock the sweater/shirt and tie combos.

Don’t get me wrong, I can be biased as well when it comes to appearance. People need to look in the mirror when they put on clothes and see if certain outfits accent their figures—and that goes for males as well. And no this is not some underhanded dig at “thick chicks” or “big boys” but it goes for everyone. We all have different shapes. And even for me as a black male **clears throat* I discovered that just because I figured I was a certain jean size in Sean Jean or Girbaud that that size didn’t always transfer into jeans I bought at Abercrombie and Fitch or American Eagle.

Howsoever….

…the question remains, are black males allowed to wear fitted or skinny jeans without their sexuality being in question?

I guess you could extend that question to all ideas of black male metrosexuals as far as having to defend their sexuality. As I see it, it’s partially the fault of some black females—and some from the older generation as well. They (some black females and elders) said that they didn’t like us (young black males) always wearing the baggy white tees and pants “hangin’ off ya ass.” But, when the fashions adapt, they question your sexuality.

I remember the first time I wore a pair of slim fitting slacks to church back in 2005. My parents looked at me like I had lost my mind and suggested that I go back and change clothes and started praying for me out loud. I walked out of the door. It took the consoling of some female friends who kinda gave me the look up and down and said I actually looked nice. Suffice it to say, there are some who are attracted to the look—then there are those who aren’t.

I was in Jacksonville this summer and I got looks just from wearing fitted jeans (not skinny jeans because there is a difference). I thought it was interesting because of what I heard from the tween girls I had been going to see twice a week at a summer camp. By the end of the summer they felt comfortable enough to tell me they thought I was “fruity” (their words not mine) because of how I dressed, but then when I asked them about the clothes that the teen summer hit sensation New Boyz wore in the music video “You A Jerk” they had no real answer.

The way I see it, it boils down to our ideas of masculinity in this country. Still in the microcosm of the black community we have broad ideas of what masculinity is and how it should manifest itself. Never mind the fact that I’m in grad school working on a dual masters degree with the hope and intent of obtaining another one year masters degree before going on to Ph.D. work, or never mind the fact that I have my own car, got my own hustle more or less am independent enough from my parents that I don’t have to call every two weeks for an allowance like I used to. Never mind the fact that I do well in school. No. For America, my masculinity is heavily enraptured in my appearance.

Aside from homophobia that runs rampant in our community why are black males having to catch flack on this type of clothing? I mean there’s a young rapper out there who has titled song “Skinny Jeans Are Gay” and maybe this is where my uppity Negro status kicks in full time, but—ARE YOU SERIOUS?!!?!? Out of all the things to be worried about, you’re worried about someone who took their own money and decided to buy their own clothes. I guess it would be different if every black male you saw with skinny or fitted jeans on was a self-professed homosexual—but that’s not the case.



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Last week, I had the opportunity to chop it up with my man RiPPa from The Intersection of Madness & Reality . As with my first session of "The Chop Up" with Goddess Intellect (GI), there was a whole lot more conversation than anticipated. Therefore, it's took me a minute to 'chop up' the transcript and get it down to 2000 words. Yes, 2000 words with another 1000 words or so stored away in the vault.

Anyway, RiPPa has become like an online big brother to many of the newer bloggers such as myself, GI and others. Not to mention, his site drives more traffic to Mason Says than any other single source according to my daily data reports. That's a testament to the volume of readers that hit his site everyday because my man doesn't hold back. And in typical fashion as it goes between the two of us, there were things we agreed on during our one-on-one and some things we just didn't see eye to eye on. So enough with the set up. You know what to do. Click the link and let's get it on. Click Here to Finish Reading


Mason Says: Rippa, how’s it going?

RiPPa Says: Sup brother? Sorry I'm late.

Mason Says: No problem. Think I’m early. Let’s jump into it.

RiPPa Says: Ok let's roll.

Mason Says: So how long have you been blogging?

RiPPa Says: I've been blogging now for close to 5 years. My current site has been up for almost 2 years now. Prior to which, I hosted a blog on Y!360 which is now defunct. But my page over there was supposedly something special I suppose considering the following and all.

Mason Says: I'm a neophyte to the blogging world. Not even familiar with Y!360.

RiPPa Says: Well, Y!360 was Yahoo's solution to their problems with Yahoo Chat; they received several lawsuits for content and were under fire from advertisers. So they switched platforms and started Y!360 which incorporated Yahoo profiles and provided a blog format. I guess before Facebook it was the grown-up version of My Space.

Mason Says: How did you come up with the blog name, Intersection of Madness & Reality?

RiPPa Says: Well, I've always fancied myself as the type of person with the ability to bring people together. I've always been that guy. That was the driving concept behind the name of my blog. You see, I see myself as the black Forrest Gump sitting on a corner at the bus stop telling stories. I mean think about it; out in the streets there's much chatter on the corner. Well, not only am I on the corner preaching so to speak but my site also serves as a portal to some of the best on the NET....or at least what I think people should be reading.

Mason Says: I appreciate that about your site - all the different feeds to other blogs. You should be like Google and charge per click. I'd owe you a nice amount of change by now.

RiPPa Says: Nah bro, you don't owe me jack! Your site is one of the many that I lurk. You're a great writer, and I often say to myself that I wish I were able to write like you my man. No joke. I do.

Mason Says: So Goddess Intellect (GI) were on here a few weeks ago and your name came up. we're both wondering why the hell weren't you in Chicago for BWB. more importantly, are you showing up next year?

RiPPa Says: I wanted to attend BWB this year, but due to health and financial constraints I wasn't able to. When I first heard about it last year when they were in Atlanta. I told myself that I would make it a point to attend one of those conferences. I was a "newbie" back then and really didn't know what could come out of it. But after reading some of the reviews from this year's conference. I see it as a major networking tool.

Mason Says: Next year you have to go. You're blog is keeping half of us in business. Need to buy you a drink or two. GI says we won't be able to hang with her but youngin' has another thing coming.

RiPPa Says: Shooooooooooot! My old ass? I don't think I could keep up with either one of you. I hung up my hat years ago.

Mason Says: Nah. We're about the same age I'm thinking and I still run it. So you're from NYC right?

RiPPa Says: I was born in Trinidad & Tobago in the Caribbean, and moved to NYC and a youngster. I call Trinidad & Tobago my home or the motherland. As far as home here in the states? Yeah, Brooklyn is the place. My mother and brothers as well as a host of relatives still live there.

Mason Says: So how did you end up in Memphis?

RiPPa Says: My wife and her family are from Memphis. Actually they're from Detroit but moved here as teenagers. I just needed a change of scenery and pace several years ago and decided to head south. I had a job offer in Florida and took it. Prior to that I Iived in Indiana where I have been since college. Well anyway, I was in Florida for 2yrs but got ran out of there by a couple hurricanes and that's why I'm in Memphis right now. That shit in Florida sucked. I got tired of having to escape hurricanes and traveling up the interstate driving at 20mph for, oh, 8hrs or so along with probably a million other people at the same time.

Mason Says: I'd imagine that would get old

RiPPa Says: Yes it did get old pretty quick in the span of 2yrs. That plus Pensacola Fl. wasn't too progressive for me at the time. Before moving there the Florida I had in my mind was Miami. But Pensacola was more like L.A....LOWER ALABAMA! P'cola was like 2 years removed from the movie "Deliverance" in my opinion. Ok well maybe not that bad. But it was kind of Redneck-ish.

Mason Says: I've never heard anything good about Pensacola. I love Miami on the other hand. So changing subjects – we went at it hard about a week ago on the issue over Morehouse. What's your deal? Why can't you just see it my way?

RiPPa Says: Nah man... I see your point and yes I believe in what you were saying. But as far as the dress code thing, man please. My wife has a cousin who currently attends Morehouse. And I'm sorry, I'm not feeling the dress code as the solution to anything at all. Plus I didn't like the double standard thing as I mentioned on your post. Of course it was not directed to you specifically. But in general, like I said, black people are applauding this move at Morehouse as if it will have impact on the community as a whole. And like I said, when whatever the name of that small town outside of Atlanta proposed city ordinance against saggy pants...BLACK PEOPLE WERE OUTRAGED! That's bullshit; we can't have it both ways and there's a word for that. I think it's called hypocrisy.

Mason Says: I hear you RiPPa. I still disagree but I'll guess I'll have direct people to the original comments before we open up another can. Totally different subject. When I first started reading your blog this year, I stumbled on your post ... think it was called Sunday Conversation. You were discussing homophobia.

RiPPa Says: I've written about homophobia a time or two. I was sexually abused as a child by two different men on separate occasions. I think from that, I harbored some resentment towards the gay community. But in the process of healing I realized I had to let that go because it wasn't healthy. For me, homophobia keeps me trapped in a period of time. I consider myself free and I refuse to be or think like that again. But beyond how it works for me? I think in general within the black community homophobia is ignorant. Of all people who know the effects of ignorance and fear we should be the last set of people with those beliefs.

Mason Says: Wow, that's some honest shit. I’m not sure most people could open up like that without having Oprah there beside them. You're definitely cut from a different cloth and I mean that in the most positive way possible

RiPPa Says: Thanks bro. That's really how I've always been my adult life. I was taught that "A closed mouth never gets fed." And I live by that. I thought it would make as an interesting sidepiece to the interview.

Mason Says: I'm not sure where to go now.

RiPPa Says: Well let me ask you something: what's the difference between a blogger and a writer?

Mason Says: Damn good question.

RiPPa Says: I KNOW RIGHT?!!

Mason Says: I got an answer for you though. Every good writer could be a good blogger but not every good blogger is a good writer.

RiPPa Says: Ok, elaborate on that...

Mason Says: I think they’re two different concepts that should overlap but too often they don’t. In my opinion, there are too many bloggers out there taking up (cyber)space, who could barely hold a pencil if it came down to it.

RiPPa Says: LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Well damn, tell us how you really feel!

Mason Says: Don’t get me wrong. There a lot of good bloggers out there, but with the good comes the parade of bad too. I saw your bio over at www.freshxpress.com recently and you mention being an avid Langston Hughes reader.

RiPPa Says: Yeah, I've read a book or two...lol.

Mason Says: That's what I'm talking about. You are a hell of a blogger, in part, because you respect the art of writing and the masters of it. Too many of bloggers don't.

RiPPa Says: Seriously, I hate when people say to me "you're a good writer."

Mason Says: Ok, so now we’re parting ways. Why do you hate that?

RiPPa Says: Pulleeeze! That insults me when people say that. I'm a blogger, and nothing more. I read so many blogs where I'm in awe of the authors it ain't even funny. See, I don't see myself as a writer. I say that because I'm not even any where close to that as far as quality. Truth be told, I never thought about writing anything before I started my blog back in the day, and I had to get talked into that.

Mason Says: You my friend are a writer. Get the hell over it and stop selling yourself short.

RiPPa Says: I might be selling myself short, but I got issues man! Can’t you tell that shit? LOL. See man, I never tell many people this, but comedy is my first love. I don't want to be a comedian, but I would love to write for one. My first ever writing experience was writing comedy for a friend of mine who tried his hand at it professionally when we were in college back in the day. Comedy is gratification to my wretched conflicted soul man. Laughter is pain and it's the only way I can get mine out.

Mason Says: The art of making someone laugh is a beautiful thing. I'm with you on that. People tell me I should have been a comedian. About 10 years ago I mentioned to that several family members and they shot down my dreams. Bastards. Family is brutal.

Mason Says: So what plans do you have coming up for the blog beyond the next post?

RiPPa Says: Plans for the blog? Well, I want this damn thing to blow up. People need to hear me fam. No for real, people ain't hearing me son! LOL. Nah I have a few things I'm contemplating. But I must admit that as I was mentioning in a conversation with my man AverageBro recently (shout out to AverageBro.com), this blogging thing is getting harder and harder to do as far as keeping up. I have some great ideas in my head as far as themes and shit like that. But I got that ADD shit with my blog man and it's hard to stay focused. That said, I'm thinking about building a "writing team". I've talked to a few people about it because like I said, I hate hearing my voice all the damn time. And I get the feeling that people are hating it too. I need to mix it up a little - that racism ambulance chasing stuff can be depressing.

Mason Says: Can't be mad at that. “Racism ambulance chasing”…never quite heard it that way. But I feel you. I did it for the first few months of my blog under masonjamal.com and then decided to change my whole game up.

Mason Says: Anyway, this was good stuff. Anything you want add?

RiPPa Says: Nah man, nothing more to add. Hopefully I don't scare your readers off.

Mason Says: Nah, we're good. I'll hit u up later. Thanks for all the support and for taking time today.

RiPPa Says: Thanks for the opportunity my man.

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The Chop Up with Goddess Intellect



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(Blog Note 11.04.09: Today, Average Bro is re-running this post over at his site. I always appreciate the additional exposure. Much thanks to AB, a big supporter of mine since day one.)

Despite the seemingly gratuitous photo, this one is actually a public service announcement for women. Those of you contemplating augmentation of your lower frontal lobes, stop. Hear me on this. Unless you have ambitions of being a stripper, porn star or a prolific practitioner of one night stands, it's totally pointless. Little known fact - men really don't care about breast size, as much as you think we do. I know. You had no idea. In fact, some male readers are saying to themselves "really"? Yes, dude. You really don't care that much. It's true. Most of us realize it, but don't fess up to it out of peer pressure and social conditioning. You see, feigning great interest in breast size, initially, is like a rite of passage for us. For straight men or those pretending... Click Here to Finish Reading Continued: For straight men or those pretending to be, it's a sophomoric litmus test of our heterosexuality. If a friend says "damn, look at the set on her", we feel obliged by 'man law' to look and respond with an equally juvenile comment. It's just how it goes.

And even as we mature and start hunting the drugstore aisles for Rogaine, we'll still notice a woman with an avalanche of cleavage. However, it's more spectator sport than anything else. When it comes to actually connecting with a woman and developing a meaningful relationship, bra size doesn't matter. Just because the boyfriend or husband cranes his neck every now and then for some passing titillation, doesn't mean that's what he wants. It's a novelty act. It's a fleeting fantasy. I'm telling you ladies. Men really aren't as shallow as you think we are. If a woman is actually 'the one', her body doesn't need a set of perky girlfriends to act as an advance team. We're perfectly capable of being smitten or enamored with you without the help of the dynamic duo.

Now, in the case of women who are naturally larger, that's cool too. No one is saying run out and get a reduction. Just be you. And if there happens to be some gravitational pull, so be it. You don't live your life in a spacecraft defying laws of physics, nor do you need your breasts to resemble twin planets orbiting your face. At some point, if they haven't already, they're going to fall to earth and that's okay. We'll be there to catch them.

Truth of the matter is 'fakies' not only look unnatural, they feel unnatural. And any guy with any firsthand experience knows it. Think about it ladies. It's like your man coming home after a procedure in Tijuana with an extra two inches of psuedo-penis. I can't say for sure, but, if it's anything like augmented breasts, chances are it's going to feel lumpy and rubbery. And what woman wants a rubbery lumpy penis with diminished sensation? Yeah, I thought so. What's bad for the goose is bad for the gander. One


The Takeaways:

1.) Men don't care about breast size nearly as much as women, themselves, care about breast size. Frankly, the only size that we really obsess about is our own, ironically, thanks to women.

2.) If you insist on augmentation, do your research and find a licensed professional with a solid and successful track record in this area. You don't want to be carved up like an overcooked Thanksgiving turkey by Botox Bob M.D., who's looking to expand his services because his Malibu property is in foreclosure. Very bad idea.

3.) And just because I said breast size doesn't really matter, don't really get it twisted. There is a time and a place for everything. If the fellas and I decide to get tacky with it and hit the local Hooters, we need a waitress who understands the expression "when in Rome...".

4.) Last but far from least - there is something far more important. Breast exams, breast exams, breast exams and breast exams. Take it serious. We love you.



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