Glen "Big Baby" Davis of the Boston Celtics is tired of his nickname. Posting to his Twitter account the other day, the six foot nine power forward stated "I’d rather let my play on the court be what I am known for, not some nickname. So feel free to call me Glen." Well, la-di-dah. This hefty bastard has come of age and is ready to assume the identify of a grown ass man with a dignified name.
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(Continued) Most will agree that the moniker of "Big Baby" doesn't exude the gravitas of "King James" or suggest the surgical precision of "Dr. J", but neither does his game. See, having a nickname isn't so much the problem. But having a nickname that's wack, yet seems to be befitting, is a problem.
So how can you blame the guy? After all, the ultimate litmus test for a nickname is not how well it plays on the court, but rather how well it plays in bed. You know what I'm talking about - the timeless call and response ritual of "what's my name?" Having a woman answer with "give it to me you Big ass Baby" fails the test. And don't ask me why Osama "Glen" Laden came to mind as an alternative, but I don't think that plays well either - in bed or over the public address system.
There comes a time in a man's life when he must examine his nickname, should he have one. Some are keepers. Others, as in the case of "Big Baby", are meant to be set on the curb at some point. Good decision Glen. One
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Perhaps, you've been living under a rock. If not, you've heard something about the salacious episode of bad judgment starring Greg Oden of the Portland Trailblazers. Straight from central casting of clichés, Oden stars in naked 'self-portrait' that he took while standing in a bathroom aiming a camera phone at the mirror. Damn, that's so 2008. Actually, that's when the photos, that are now strewn across the internet, were allegedly taken.
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(from a reader) I have a male co-worker who is married - happily married from what he says. But I notice he hardly wears his wedding band. I asked him about it and he said he's not a fan of jewelry. I have no reason to suspect he's not being faithful to his wife but as a single women I'm always disturbed by married men who don't wear their band.
- Cheryl
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(This post is also available on Tavis Smiley's PBS site)
Haiti, unfortunately, is no different from the others. Tragedy strikes and the media arrives in full occupying force. It's the story of the moment. Everyone cares. The information and images take up temporary residence in our collective conscience. Our hearts go out. But, invariably, so do the lights. The bulbs stop flashing. The cameras stop rolling. Heads stop talking. Then what? Do we look the other way, as usual, and forget about the people of Port-au-Prince and its surrounding provinces? Sadly enough, most of us will. Click Here to Finish Reading
(Continued) Prompted by the media, our attention and focus will turn elsewhere; this way folks - on to the next story. Meanwhile, the death toll will continue to soar and, for the survivors, so will the pain and suffering. To make matters even more grim, Haiti is haunted by the reality that it will be a country of amputees for the foreseeable future, many of whom, are orphaned children.
Relatively speaking, it wasn't nearly as horrific, but the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina provides a similar case study in media attention deficit disorder. Nearly 2,000 people died and countless more were permanently relocated by the natural forces of the hurricane coupled with the economic forces of government neglect. For the poor, it's a one-two punch in the gut. And even though media coverage bubbled over at first, it eventually fizzled out. And with it so did public interest. If this is how American citizens were treated and nearly forgotten, can we really expect anything different in Haiti?
Pardon my cynicism, but human tragedy is big business for the news industry. It's not that members of the media don't have hearts. It's rather difficult not to, even for the most hardened journalist in a situation as catastrophic as this. But while this story has legs for now, they too will soon be amputated. And will the American public care as much then when the cameras stop rolling? Most won't. Just as we saw with the coverage of New Orleans and all the talk about how America will never be the same, this too shall be out of sight and out of mind. Then what? One
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This past Sunday I missed Monique snagging her much deserved Golden Globe for best supporting actress . The following morning, however, I caught the highlights of the ceremony including the customary critiques of what actress wore what and how she wore it. Normally I turn the channel, but this time I just went with it. Seconds into it I remembered why I typically reach for the remote. First, this whole male testosterone thing I got going on never fails to interrupt my interest. Second, unless it's the portion of the program when they discuss best cleavage of the night or what form fitting dress Beyonce managed to slink herself into, I could really care less.
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Adidas dropped him. The Washington Wizards, if you believe NBA analysts, are likely to follow suit. So who will stand by the man known as Gilbert Arenas currently facing felony gun charges and possible incarceration? Aw yes, entering from stage left: the People for Ethical Treatment of Animals. Why are we not surprised? After all, both Gilbert and the zealots at PETA are known for taking things a little too far sometimes. So it makes sense that Gilbert's involvement in PETA's "Ink, Not Mink" campaign is continuing without as much as a hiccup.
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God bless Shannon Sharpe. Unlike his more conservative colleagues on The NFL Today, Shannon has a flare for sartorial splendor dressing well or at least that's the perception he's going for. But every now and then things go wildly wrong and he jeopardizes the collective reputation of black men across the fashion diaspora.
This past Saturday was one of those occasions. I don't mean to embellish matters, but his ensemble was tantamount to wardrobe Armageddon. For a moment, I just knew the end was near. If nothing else, I thought my widescreen would suffer irreparable damage from the explosion of pixels.
After all, we're talking about a shiny burgundy sports coat made of some sort of velvety micro-fiber that actually probably could withstand the fire and brimstone of his impending fashion apocalypse. Watching this spectacle in high-def 1080i doesn't help. We can only hope there weren't pants to match. I appreciate taking a risk every now and then but, outside the grounds of the Playboy Mansion, this had no chance. I go by a simple rule: a man should always speak louder than what he's wearing. Let us all learn from this. One
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Roll Tape!
Let's get it right. Martin Luther King Jr. is his name. It's not "MLK Day". If being too polysyllabic is the issue, why not simply drop an imaginary "i" in the mix and refer to him as MILK? Would abridging his name to one syllable make this day even easier? Today we celebrate MILK. That's just wonderful. Look, I'm not saying it's a desecration of his memory, but can we show some more respect on the day we recognize his birthday and, oh, the 364 days following?
The man is on a very short list of the most important and influential people to walk the earth. Reducing his name to initials because it flows off the tongue easier isn't acceptable. KFC I understand. "MLK" I don't. His legacy isn't a bucket of fried chicken. And yes, I know, there is a Kentucky Fried Chicken on or adjacent to almost every Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue in America, but that's another issue. Let's show some respect and take a few extra seconds to sound out the full name. If nothing else, Dr. King will do; it's still only three-syllables, but unlike "MLK" it shows the proper reverence we should all have for the man and his work. One
It's cliché but they don't make male R&B singers like Teddy anymore. These days, urban radio routinely subjects us to whiny male voices singing dumb-ass sophomoric lyrics like:"ooh baby, I be stuck to you, Like glue baby, wanna spend it all on you, baby, my room is the g-spot, call me Mr. Flintstone, I can make your Bed Rock". What? Did he just say "call Mr. Flintstone, I can make your Bed Rock"? Fall back youngin' and grow a pair.
I think it's fair to say that Teddy had the gravitas that's missing from the voices and presence of most male R&B singers today. Many of us can recall images of Teddy standing on stage, shirt half-buttoned, catching panties and belting out baby making classics such as "Close the Door", "Love T.K.O" and "Turn Off the Lights". Teddy was a man's man. That may also explain his 1982 car accident that left him partially paralyzed and answering questions about his male transsexual passenger. His image was never quite the same after that. Nonetheless, he continued to make music and fans continued to love his work. It was hard not to. He is missed. One
I recently saw the new cover of Ebony magazine featuring Djimon Hounsou with his new wife Kimora Lee. What's up with black men flocking to these exotic looking women? Are black women not good enough any more?
Ms. Concerned and Mad
To see my reply, please click here. This post was a Mason Says exclusive for about 3 hours. It's now at Black Voices. Please see the comments already left as they are very interesting. Future comments, however, will have to be left at Black Voices.
"Every time I try to get out, they keep pulling me back in!" I'm sure the classic Godfather line rings in the ears of Army Specialist Marc Hall, even as he sits in jail. He was set to be relieved of active duty this coming February, when he learned late last year that he, like many others, was being sent back to Iraq for another 12 months under the military's "stop loss" policy. Let's just say he wrote a song about it. Here are a few of the lyrics under his hip-hop alias of Marc Watercus: Click Here to Finish Reading
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The G-spot isn't exactly the GPS-spot; navigation for it doesn't exist and directions to its whereabouts are sketchy at best. A blindfolded wild goose chase pops to mind. It ranks right up there with looking for weapons of mass destruction in the Bermuda Triangle. The fact that this point of pleasure can be so elusive begs the question time and time again: is the G-spot the gospel or simply gossip? A study set to be published in the Journal of Sexual Medicine suggests it's the latter. Click Here to Finish Reading
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A few days ago on Twitter, I saw you posted something about men wearing flat front dress pants. I’ve been trying to convince my husband to buy some but he doesn’t like the way they fit. They seem to be the style nowadays. Any additional thoughts or advice on convincing him? - Natasha.
Natasha, Everyone isn’t ready to trot out their inner Maxwell. A man must...
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Continued: A man must come to this decision in his own time. It’s not an easy one. He has to shift his fashion paradigm to get comfortable with the idea of wearing flat fronts. Personally, I snoozed on them way too long. The first time a friend suggested I give them a try my knee jerk response was “n@#%@ pleats!” It’s what I knew. But now I wear flat fronts all the time.
It does take some getting used to. Pleated pants tend to be roomy and loose fitting, easy like Sunday morning. Flat fronts, on the other hand, are essentially a Saturday night slow dance with fabric. I’m not calling them butt huggers; however, they certainly like to cozy up to a man a bit more than we may be accustomed to. The first time I wore a pair, I kept asking myself why does it feel like my pants are sexually harassing me and why do I feel the need to keep re-adjusting my business? Commando is never recommended in my book, but especially not with flat fronts.
That said, fashion is a very cyclical thing. Right now and for the foreseeable future, flat fronts are certainly regarded as the more stylish alternative to pleats. The other thing to consider is a man’s stature. Men carrying a lot of extra weight may want to shy away from this trend lest the flat fronts look like fat fronts. And no one wants that. One
Mason Jamal
The E-Male Advisor
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This is my first official entry of 2010. And with the new year, comes an expansion of my format to include more Q&A posts. This is me trying to fix what's probably not broken. But as the newly self-appointed "E-Male Advisor" for the blogosphere, I'm looking forward to increased interaction. This will only be an expansion of the current format and not a complete makeover as I've been known to do. However, I would like to hear from readers with any questions or subjects they want me to address regarding the style, substance and/or sensibilities of men. I'll be disabling the comments section for this post, so please email me at masonjamal@ymail.com. I'll see you Wednesday morning. One
