Post That My Readers Might Not Care About In 3, 2....

I miss the WWF. As I see Floyd Mayweather get 20 million dollars for breaking The Big Show's nose, I remember what wrestling used to be in my childhood/teenage years and I miss it so. Vince McMahon has managed to make something special into a national joke about steroids, soap operas and men in tights.

I guess since I still care about the WWE (ugh, still annoys me to say it), I can say this is my 20th year of being a wrestling fan, starting with Wrestlemania IV in Atlantic City that year. First time we ever ordered a Pay Per View event at my house and it was spent watching Hulk Hogan, The late great Andre The Giant, Macho Man Randy Savage, The Million Dollar Man Ted DiBiase, and my childhood fave, Jake "The Snake" Roberts, just to name a few.

Those guys were believable back then, especially Ted DiBiase because as long as there has been a separation of rich and poor, there's always an asshole like Ted DiBiase flaunting his cash and thinking everyone will bow down. I really used to think dude would walk around, stuffing C-Notes in people's mouths after slapping the Million Dollar Dream (his patented sleeper hold) on them.

Today, there's too much behind the scenes b.s. that prevents it from being like it was back then. For one, Vince is ruled by his daughter's husband, Triple H, the most powerful wrestler/backstage presence going today, and he uses his marriage to Stephanie to basically be in charge of the whole operation. That's why folks like Jeff Hardy and Mr. Kennedy (....Kennedy!) never get a shot at holding the gold because Triple H wants it all to himself.

Not to mention creativity is lacking. When Jake sicked his King Cobra on Randy Savage a little over 16 years ago, we really though Savage was going to die. Of course he came back two weeks later to beat Jake in a match, only to get his ass beat again by Jake, who then slapped Macho's wife, Miss Elizabeth (R.I.P.). That was some cold stuff, you hear me? You let your pet cobra bite and poison a dude, lose your big match, then drop him with three DDTs (greatest wrestling move ever) and THEN you put your hands on his wife? Great theater, I'm telling you.

Nowadays, Vince's idea of theater is having a little Irish man parade around as his illegitimate son. Horrid.

I guess the WWF to WWE transition proves that nothing great lasts forever, especially things we held dear from childhood or young adulthood. I was a teenager struggling for an identity during the WWF Attitude era (the best of them all), and I found out that I could be myself just fine from rebels like Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Rock and DX. Although they were characters in a show, they still had real-life human qualities, like the lack of tolerance for abusive authority (Austin) the high self-esteem bordering on sheer arrogance but still cool enough to be liked by everyone (Rock) to flat out sophomoric pranks and hi jinks (DX). Although it was "just wrestling" as folks used to tell me, it was an important outlet for me to have back then. Still is in some ways.

Oh well, that's why youtube and dailymotion exist, where you can find matches and angles from long ago that you remember watching live, not to mention long forgotten superstars and theme songs that you used to rock out to when they were brand new.

Sorry for the non-interesting subject guys, but I do have a new voice post (widget to your right) to go along with this post, and it has more about regular life stuff, so feel free to listen to that, while I watch more WWF memories on youtube.

Nerdy interests, voice posting, and other flights of random fancy

Blame Jameil for the Utterz widget to your right. I was so tickled by her goofiness (she talks just like she types, amazing) that I decided to sign up for the doggone voice post thing myself, and what you see is a window into how Chris sounds, for those who haven't heard me before, or have forgotten what my voice sounds like. Feel free to click play and hear the smooth, melodic sexiness that is my voice. Ladies, you might want to have an extra pair of undergarments handy *wink*

I got a couch two weeks ago, and I thank the lord for it. It was donated to me by a co-worker, not in pristine condition, but nothing a slip cover won't fix. It's actually a sleeper, but I can't let too many people know that. My apartment will SO not become the Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn (if your girl starts acting up, then you take her friend).

I think I have a new addiction: Female athletes. Track Stars and Gymnasts to be specific. The muscle tone in their bodies is simply outrageous, like a gymnast from the University of Alabama named Morgan Dennis. A message board I visit had her posted in street clothes and gym gear, and yo....thick muscular legs, defined shape and still feminine as all hell...I so need an athletic woman. Of course, it would help if I was athletic, yes? LOL. My track crush is Allyson Felix from the Adidas commercial. She talked about how they used to call her chicken legs before she blew them away on the track. Nothing chicken about her physique either. Gym membership, hello!

So as I was conversing with V on Sunday, I was hype to point out my longtime nerdy interest in early-era Volkswagen Vehicles, with the original Bug being my favorite car ever, but my most recent VW find is the Squareback, a two-door wagon VW imported to the states from 1966-1973.

I was telling V how the best VWs were made during the "air-cooled era," and she was like "huh, what?" So I told her the story of how Volkswagen didn't build cars with water-cooled engines until the mid-1970s, and the 25-plus years prior to that are considered the golden era of Volkswagen automobiles. She was like "ah." It was over AIM, but you can tell she was thinking, "he knows too much about this particular car...period." A site I routinely visit to check out if there are any cheap air-cooled VeeDubs for sale is TheSamba.com, which fulfills all my nerdy People's Car needs. And yes, I am hoping there is a VW car show in Maryland this summer, because wherever it is, please believe I will be there with my work camera getting good pics, LOL.

It was 65 yesterday. Snow is in the forecast for Friday. This is some crazy weather, guys. It's like those goofy "The Earth is trying to tell us something" ads are really coming to life. Or Mother Nature has the ill sense of humor, either one of the two. That's why I'm glad I'm stocked up with hot chocolate and DVDs in case Friday does get crazy. Anyone care to join me for a Friday trilogy/In Living Color/Chappelle's Show marathon?

I'm glad I can catch up on the Holy Trinity of Sistas at CBS3 via the web now, I've missed them in the four months I've been away from DE. Trust me, if it were more sisters the quality of Angela Russell, Mary Stoker Smith and Anne Marie Green on our TV screens, brothers would watch the news, I'm telling you.

And finally...well, I'm grasping at straws, I'm tapped out, LOL. But I'm setting posting records so the O.G. Triple O.G., O.G. Triple Triple Blog Bully can be pleased. Along with my smooth voice, you can all get as much Chris as you can stand.

Like the Isley Brothers, I'm taking y'all to the next phase. Welcome to the future of The Post Game Show.

2...14....08....V-Day

9 years ago around this time, I was hopeful. In my senior year at Howard High School of Technology, I finally felt like Valentine's Day was going to be for me and me alone. A girl that I had been chasing for the better part of three years finally seemed to be warming up to me beyond the friend stage, as she said "sure, we can get together on Valentine's Day!" Boy, was I in for the shock of my life. Friday night, at a basketball game, I met her there and asked her what the plan was for the weekend, but she had that shifty-eyed look and kept saying "Ummmm, I dunno." I had to get back to the box seeing as I was recording the games for the basketball coach at the time, and I told her I'd catch up with her later.

Later resulted in her kissing another dude and not even trying to hide it as she came into my sight at halftime. That was my Charlie Brown football moment. I had been her friend forever, felt like something else was developing, and I ended up flat on my back. I later found out that during our "friendship," she was pretty much HHST's jump-off Du Jour with everyone from football and basketball players to IT nerds. Everyone but me. Amazing.

Since that day, I've held feelings of contempt and sadness for Valentine's Day (ain't a damn thing Saintly about it!) and if anyone is really wondering why I detest women trying to be my friend, that story is THE REASON.

This morning has gone reasonably well so far. It snowed, the morning meeting at the job was canceled, so I'm chilling, eating green grapes and listening to the Steve Harvey Morning Show when this brother from Florida writes in and asks if Steve can help him declare his love for his girlfriend of 10 years to the world. Normally I'd turn off the radio, but as my post about Michelle Obama indicates, I feel a little differently about love and romance than I have in previous years. I turned it up.

So Steve reads this letter, gets the brother and his girl on the phone, and she has one of those high pitched sista voices (you know the once) and when she greeted him with "Hi, bebe," all peppy and full of energy, I was like "o.k., this ain't fake." So not only does he pledge his decade-long love and affection to her for about 30 million listeners to hear, he proposes. She squeals and giggles with delight and says yes. I get misty-eyed...that ain't supposed to happen.

I guess the point of this entry is that another epiphany has struck. While I was chasing this girl who seemed to have a penis-seeking radar in her drawers, this cat was building something long-lasting and meaningful with his girlfriend and now it has resulted in an eventual wedding day. The stories contrast so much as to how people find mates and the loves of their lives that you can never really compare your story to someone else's or try to pinpoint when your time will come. You just have to keep it together and be ready for when that time comes.

I think of 26 as being something terribly old and bordering on male-spinster territory, like I'm gonna have an apartment full of cats or something in a minute. Instead, this is proving to be the right age for me to get myself together. Since I've turned 26, I've gotten my first job in my field, an apartment, I maintain all my bills *knocks on wood* and nobody lives here but Chris. I've also had different experiences with women down here to let me know that the behind-closed-doors part of my game is on point, and more importantly, I'm still a decent person. All of those characteristics, no matter how much I weigh or how unattractive I may feel aesthetically, will always have a place in the world.

So it's up to me to close the door on my past and start working towards the future. The time is now for me to start living for today, living for myself and realizing that not every woman is the devil incarnate. While I won't be looking to be married anytime soon, the truth of the matter is, I need to start finding ways to meet women in person and spend time with them to see not only what I want in a woman, but what I can give to a woman as well.

So o.k., for the 26th consecutive year, I have no Valentine, but I guess the greatest gift I could ever get is the gift of realizing that only you can change your situation. It's a gift that's probably been sitting around unopened for some time now, but now that it is, I've got to make good use of it.

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all.

"You know, the cops are giving you a hard time for some ignorant reasons, and it's not fair," my co-worker said to me a couple of weeks ago. "Believe me, I know," I responded with a laugh. I didn't bother telling him the ignorance I've encountered in four months in St. Mary's County is fairly new to me, and while Delaware is in no position to declare itself a beacon for racial harmony, two incidents with county deputies and a Maryland state trooper have heightened my sense of "hell yes, it's still out here." The it would be racism, and while I never was one to believe that it didn't exist, I'll just say these two incidents opened my eyes wider than they already were.

I briefly highlighted the first incident in November when I bumped into a parked car, left my information and tried to wait on the woman whose car I hit, but I HAD to go back to the office. So I get an anonymous call on my cell phone from the deputy saying that my actions were "an arrestible offense," and that I should come back to straighten this out. Mind you I LIVE at the complex where the accident took place, I couldn't skip town, you know?

So I go back to my building, nervous as hell, and he says "well, there's no cause to arrest you, we just wanted to straighten this thing out and have a switch of information." He went on to say most people wouldn't even leave a letter or contact information after hitting someone's car, and that my action was "admirable." Yeah, but you were threatening me with lock-up 15 minutes earlier.

Act 2, December 11th. I'm driving along 235 North, a stretch of highway where EVERYBODY is doing above the posted speed limit of 55 MPH, and this state trooper in a black car on 235 SOUTH, makes a U-Turn and pulls me over for doing 74 in a 55 and no seatbelt (I take the heat for the seatbelt). So he takes my DE license and says "you've been here how long?" At this point, it's one and a half months, so I say I've been here since Mid-to-late-October, and he says "you've been here a few months. Not changing your license is (y'all guessed it) an arrestible offense, but you're fortunate your license is valid."

After being made aware by a former member of county government that NEITHER instance would involve me being in a holding cell, it just made me that much more suspicious of white people in general. Granted, we could be less than nine months away from electing the first black president in this country's sordid history, but it will not stop the ignorance and fear from projecting itself on to the skin of people of color, especially us nigras.

Totally reminds me of a time-worn essay I've read from high school to college called "Black Men and Public Space," by a brother named Brent Staples. He highlights an incident in Chicago in the mid-70s, where he was a grad student, minding his own business in Hyde Park when a white woman HAULS ASS at the mere sight of him. The general gist of the essay, unfair as it is, that black is the code color for all things negative, criminal, sinister and fear-inspiring. While some people run away in fear, others use means of authority to try to put the scary darkie in his place. Enter Maryland's finest. I grew up knowing Wilmington DE cops and as dangerous as that city is, they still try to maintain some semblance of affability and open-mindedness as they do what they're paid to do.

St. Mary's County is about as dangerous as a ladybug, so apparently a black man on his way to work in a red late model Bonneville poses a threat to the dull way of life this place provides. I see now.

And with my vision cleared up just to bit, wherever my travels take me in life, fair or unfair, I'll have my knowledge of traffic law in each place handy so I won't end up as another Rodney King. Sad to say, we CAN'T all just get along.

The Future First Lady

Needless to say Friday night, while happy to be doing a job that I love, I was unhappy that I missed not one, but two opportunities to catch a true ride or die chick speak. Coretta Scott King Version 2.0 made appearances in my hometown of Wilmington, Delaware and at my college alma mater Delaware State University to convey her husband's message of hope and change to thousands...and I was covering high school ice hockey. Fab. Ulous.

Michelle Obama is probably the wild card in Barack's run for the White House right now because the woman is just so doggone compelling in her own right. A statuesque caramel-hued beauty of 5'11 and in better shape than any super model, Michelle comes armed with her own ideas and thoughts as a woman, YET still relishes in and thrives on Barack's accomplishments, at his side and ready to bring it (professionally yet plain-spoken, sweet but stern) to anyone who has nary a discouraging word to verbalize about her man.

The lovely thing about Barack and Michelle as a couple is that their interaction is as real and unscripted as anything going right now. You can just see in the pictures and video that the world gets a glimpse at their stolen moments of pleasure, their mutual love and admiration for one another, they could care less what people think or who's watching, and do you know why? Because those two, friends and neighbors, love each other. Black love in some eyes might be on life support, but Barack and Michelle Obama are a damn good reason NOT to pull the plug.

They remind you of that one couple EVERYBODY knows that has been together for what seems like an eternity, and either they know each other so very well that they can finish each other's sentences or have this unspoken bond between them that all they do is just LOOK at one another, a smile will cross her face, a grateful smirk will be present on his. And they just go one about their business, together. Their business. Not his and her business, but THEIR business. As a couple, as two human beings together to form one awesome unit that no outside force can destroy.

While Barack Obama's run for the Presidency of the United States is CLEARLY head and shoulders the most popularized and publicized event to come along in quite sometime, lurking underneath the surface is a dynamic that could possibly be more important than me coming closer to my wish of Marvin Gaye's 1983 version of the National Anthem being played at Inauguration Day. That dynamic consists of a black man and a black woman, both successful, popular and tremendous people separately, but they become an even greater force when they work together. It's wonderful to see. Inspiring and encouraging to think that anyone can do it with a little effort.

So much is made of this divide between black women and black men, that both sides have to resort to interracial dating to find any semblance of happiness and fulfillment personally and intimately. Yet in front of us, on the largest political stage this planet has to offer, we have a prime example of how Black love is and what it can be if we start understanding there's more to relationships than superficial and monetary intangibles. No one is saying settle for less than what you feel you deserve, but do not pass up a good thing because of something small (i.e., he isn't street smart, she doesn't have enough body, et cetera). Flaws and all is the way it should be in 2008 and beyond. You think Barack ain't never left the toilet seat up? You think Michelle is a dear when that once-a-month time-bomb that women have is set? HA! But they work through it and realize that love runs deeper than any superficial failings they may have.

And you don't have to be Barack Obama to get a Michelle. You just simply have to recognize a Michelle when you see her, and when you do, step to her right, treat her like the woman she longs to be recognized as, and never give her a reason to believe she's wasting her time with you.

The time-tested cliche' still stands true today as it ever has before; "Behind every good man is a good woman." And while Barack Obama could very well be taking the oath as the 44th president of the United States in January of 2009, you can bet his Michelle will be right there with him, as she has been the whole time, setting a great example for young black women to follow, and giving young black men the hope that some day they can have a Michelle of their very own.