Thank Me Later

Thank Me Later, Drake’s debut studio album is undoubtedly living proof that highlights the rapper’s versatile talents. Especially with the alternative  track “Cece’s Interlude”

Unlike most rap artists, Drake isn’t scared to show a softer side with this gripping and sentimental ballad. Making it the song of the day. Enjoy.

The Tea Party made head-waves in late 2009 through organized protests against federal laws. In my eyes, they have become a political force to be reckoned with but with the current controversy that has surfaced, the may hinder their own progress to impact the political system.

The NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) is pointing fingers at the Tea Party for harboring racist elements within its political agendas and has asked them to renounce “ultra-nationalist and racist factions within the organization,” according to NAACP President Ben Jealous.

“For more than a year we’ve watched as Tea Party members have called congressmen the N-word, have called congressmen the F-word. We see them carry racist signs and whenever it happens, the membership tries to shirk responsibility,” Jealous said.

“If the Tea Party wants to be respected and wants to be part of the mainstream in this country, they have to take responsibility.”

Jealous specifically pointed to signs at rallies portraying President Obama as a witch doctor, and to claims made by Rep. John Lewis, D-Ga., and Rep. Emanuel Cleaver, D-Mo., that Tea Party protesters opposing health care reform hurled racial slurs at them according to an online news post from ABC.

“They need to be unequivocal and they need to be responsible and get the bigots out of their organization. It’s that simple,” Jealous added.

Tea Party leaders have denied allegations of racism and argue that there is no proof to support the NAACP’s claims. Conservative commentator Andrew Breitbart even offered $100,000 to anyone who could produce an audio recording or video footage of the “N-word” being hurled at Rep. Lewis and other members of Congress.

The St. Louis Tea Party coalition passed a resolution of its own condemning the NAACP for “hypocritically engaging in the very conduct it purports to oppose.” The resolution calls on the NAACP to withdraw its resolution. It even urges the IRS to reconsider its tax-exempt status of the NAACP because of what the Tea Party coalition dubbed the organization’s “habitual partisan political behavior.”

Former Alaska Governor Sarah Palin also weighed on the issue and stepped in to protect the Tea Party’s integrity.

“The charge that Tea Party Americans judge people by the color of their skin is false, appalling, and is  a regressive and diversionary tactic,” according to a statement Sarah Palin on Facebook. As a result she has asked Barack Obama to “refudiate” such racist claims.

Organizer of the Tea Party Express Mark Williams discredited the NAACP and accused them of being racist themselves. He also went as far as to write a satirical letter on a blog post that ridiculed the NAACP.

It was purportedly written to Abraham Lincoln by “colored people,” saying in part: “We Coloreds have taken a vote and decided that we don’t cotton to that whole emancipation thing. Freedom means having to work for real, think for ourselves, and take consequences along with the rewards. That is just far too much to ask of us Colored People and we demand that it stop!”

Williams meant to make a satirical point but the letter was deemed  offensive because it made sweeping generalizations that African-Americans are lazy and ignorant. As a result,  Williams was expelled from the National Tea Party Federation led by Co-Founder of the New York City Tea Party David Webb. However, Webb stated the letter was offensive but not racist.

Webb also stated NAACP’s claims are agenda based and that the Tea Party can not be responsible for all its members’ beliefs.

“I think the NAACP in its march toward irrelevancy as an organization, needs an enemy to maintain its power base,” Webb said.

Webb was then asked about the signs and posters that compared Barack Obama to monkeys and brandish the N-word in several Tea Party rallies.

“They are offensive, they don’t belong there but there will also be fringe elements,” Webb said on CNN before he expelled Williams from the National Tea Party Federation on July 18, 2010.

In all fairness to the Tea Party I haven’t actually seen signs from protesters that have specifically used the N-word. In addition there have been no video or audio showing Tea Party members hurling the N-word at John Lewis. In truth I haven’t seen much enthusiasm from the NAACP to battle the racist statements from the New Black Panther Party to “kill crackers and their white babies,” so the NAACP could be guilty of partisan claims.

As a result, everybody organization needs to fold up their sleeves and take responsibility. The NAACP should also go to all lengths to condemn all acts of racism not only when it affects African-Americans. There have been too many instances where they get criticized for a selective bashing of racism and that is racist in a sense.

In addition just because Tea Party leaders say they haven’t witnessed any racial elements within their groups does not make it dismissible.  The fact is there have been signs that have racial slurs and ignorant messages. Some include “Send Obama back to Kenya,”  “Obama’s Plan: White Slavery” and “The American Taxpayers are the Jews for Obama’s ovens,”

Note, the Tea Party is not a racist movement but I believe the Tea Party is more at fault. The fact is there are racist elements within the Tea Party, and all Tea Party leaders should address that. Like it or not the Tea Party has moved from a grassroots movement to a notable and well respected organization and they have a social responsibility to maintain a positive image. It would be in their bests interests to take such action if they want to have a strong influence in the upcoming elections in November. If they want to get back to the important issues involving health care and limited government they need to deal with the internal problems that they are having. Who will take them seriously when they have bigots among themselves putting up extreme posters that compare Barack Obama to a monkey and make threats to hang congress members? Personally, I don’t think they have heard of the saying one bad apple spoils the bunch.

“The Taliban in Afghanistan is training monkeys to use weapons to attack American troops,” The People’s Daily reports. Islamic insurgents have drafted macaques and baboons to be all that they can be, arming them with AK-47 rifles, machine guns and trench mortars in the Waziristan tribal region near the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan. Some are even turned into long-range snipers at a secret Taliban training base. The monkeys are also rewarded with bananas and peanuts.

The newspaper says “photos have been widely spread by media agencies and Web sites across the world.”

One of those sites is the Pakistan Defense Forum, which has pictures of gun-toting monkeys, and makes the wild claim that a monkey-soldier program was first launched by the CIA in Vietnam.

“Today, the Taliban forces have given the American troops some of their own medicine,” The People’s Daily said.

I know monkeys are capable of a lot of amazing feats such as dressing up, walking on stilts and riding motorcycles but killing American soldiers  is “Absurd. I think it is a preposterous suggestion,” according to primate expert Dr. Sian Evans in an interview with CNN. She added that it is nearly impossible to train a monkey to complete simple tasks such as opening or closing doors let alone defining a target and shooting. Agreed, this just sounds like  serious monkey business.

Russian sub vessels to Cap Oil Spill

A Russian captain claims his two sub vessels could help cap the oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico but no one seems to be on-board with the idea.

“Our subs are unique,” Yevgenii Chernyaev told a BBC science correspondent. “There are two of them, and they can submerge and work simultaneously. Also, they are powerful enough to work with any other additional equipment.”

Both subs, he said, can dive to 19,685 feet, or 3.7 miles. The Deepwater Horizon oil rig is about 5,000 feet below the surface.

The skipper said that he and his team have discussed the gulf problem many times and that the Russians were ready to pitch in.

But he said such an operation would work only if BP or the Obama administration invited the Russians to try to stop the leak. “It should all be decided on the government level,” he said.

Chernyaev conceded that the Russians would need to work with other international specialists to make an impact. “We would not refuse to help, even though for us it would be very complicated.”

He added, “But it doesn’t look like anyone seriously wants our help.”

According to AOL,  U.S. Coast Guard have not answered the Russians or been available for comment. The way I see it, I don’t think the U.S. would particularly favor help from the Russians.

The BP oil spill is a national problem and any foreign help especially to the United States would make BP and President Barack Obama’s handling of the situation look incompetent and incapable (If it wasn’t already). So Maybe, BP feels it has to redeem its image and social responsibility by fixing the catastrophe at the Gulf of Mexico.

In fairness, BP has managed to control the leak 5,000 ft below the Gulf of Mexico’s surface. Their underwater robots sheared off part of the riser pipe and placed a containment cap over the leak, diverting up to 15,ooo bbl. of oil a day according to Time magazine’s June 21, 2010 issue.

President Obama is also trying to answer his critics, showing that he is dealing with the crisis by talking to experts so he knows “whose ass to kick.”

Well BP and Obama are taking actions but should consider all options in cleaning up the mess. If Russia wants to assist with the problem with their submarines, why not give it a shot?

Scott Rosenbaum has thousands of people available to keep you company — for a price. But he’s no pimp, and his website,

RentAFriend.com, is no escort service. Pay $24.95 a month (or $69.95 a year) to become a member, and you get to choose from a vast menu of “friends” with whom you can play Parcheesi, go to the movies, or perhaps use as a fake relative. Almost anything, as long as it doesn’t involve sex.

While some may think it sad that people are willing to pay for the most basic human companionship, Rosenbaum (pictured) views it as an underserved niche and a promising business opportunity. He thinks of his venture as the antidote to dating and sex sites like AshleyMadison.com, which facilitates extramarital hookups. “I want to take it a step backward,” he told WalletPop. “It’s about platonic friendship. There’s a complete void in that market.”

Granted, most of his customers who claim to be merely looking for a pal tend to choose a member of the opposite sex. But Rosenbaum writes that off as human nature. The intent just better not be nooky. While some of his RentAFriends dress provocatively in their profile photo, it’s all about context. Someone wearing a cleavage-baring cocktail number at a party is one thing; flaunting that same dress in a come-hither pose on the bed is another. And Rosenbaum has made it a mission to view and approve every profile.

Rosenbaum launched RentAFriend.com in 2009. He was inspired by a Japanese service that employed the same concept, but that site was aimed more at avoiding social embarrassment. For instance, someone without a father might hire a friend to fill the role at an important function. Requests in the U.S. seem to lean toward less-complicated circumstances. Jennifer Morrison,a married 31-year-old RentAFriend from Las Vegas, accompanied a shy computer programmer to the Pinball Hall of Fame and helped a stay-at-home mom fill her scrapbook, an Associated Press story reported. She charges $20 to $30 an hour.

Lori Thomas, who is in her early 40s and is from Southern California, recently signed up as a friend for hire. She charges $40 an hour. “I did already have one request to go walking on the beach, but the person had to reschedule for next week since he had to go out of town,” she wrote in an e-mail to WalletPop.

RentAFriend.com now boasts more than 209,000 “friends” available for the site’s 2,100 paid clients to choose from. These clients just need to type in their zip code to find out which RentAFriends are located nearby, and to view their profiles. Registrants post at least one picture accompanied by descriptions including “ethnicity” and “body type.” To make contact, visitors must then fork over the dues, which Rosenbaum pockets.

As for the hourly rates, the RentAFriends settle the terms on their own with paid members — fees generally range from $10 to $150 an hour — and they keep the cash for services rendered. It’s an odd way to make money, but for some RentAFriends it’s enjoyable work.

“I don’t care if I get paid,” Doug Hardy, a 25-year-old RentAFriend from Encinitas, Calif., wrote in an email. “I just enjoy hanging out with people.” Hardy liked the concept of being borrowed as a buddy. “It gives people an opportunity to jump into any type of social niche without having to wait several years to gather friends,” he said

Rosenbaum, a married father of two who lives in New Jersey, rises at 2 p.m. and works until 5 a.m. in order to keep RentAFriends.com running smoothly.

“I want to grow it to where someone comes along and wants to buy it for a lot of money,” he said. Yet, Rosenbaum says he sees the site as more than just a way to make cash. While he says many of his members are frequent travelers who don’t want to eat alone while on the road. There is the other half, too.”There are lonely people who don’t have a lot of friends, who want to be social,” he said.

Maybe I’m suffering from some low-inferiority complex. I think it’s because of the fact that I’m a 22-year-old boy. I don’t have a job, no apartment, no car and I still have my mom telling me who I can’t hang out with. It’s those little things that make me a loser. But instead of whining and talking about how much I am unimpressed with my life, I can get off my butt and do something about it.

I’m in my third year of college. Well I wouldn’t call it college, It’s a Christian school that tries hard to act like it’s like a college, so it has a really different atmosphere. For everything you can think of when you think of your typical college- the parties, the drinking, co-ed dormitories and random hook-ups, there is an appropriate substitute for those things at Liberty University.

We have things like curfew, where on-campus students have to be in their dorms around midnight but on the weekends, they get an extra thirty minutes to hang out. My school doesn’t have a city strip near its area that is lined up with trendy bars, restaurants and diners where usual college buddies go and come back from in a hysterical drunken embrace late at night.

What most students do for fun at Liberty is go ice-skating at the Lahaye Ice Center or go to the ski-lodge that has artificial ice-slopes so students can snowboard all year round. On Wednesdays, is campus church but it is more of like a rock concert for the cool preachers’ kids to meet and hang out. Sometimes in the dorms, students play ‘water pong’ because there’s no alcohol allowed on campus.

In a normal college, when you are walking to the academic building on your way to class. By all means, you’d overhear a conversation with a lot of swearing in it like “Man, I can’t believe I got a 76 on that test! What the fuck!…”

In Liberty, most students use euphemistic alternatives for the word fuck in the above sentence like this. “Man, I can’t believe I got a 76 on that test! What the frick!…” or “What the flip man!”

Oh yeah, we also couldn’t watch R-rated movies because they would tempt us in our spiritual walk with God and stuff like that. I’m not saying that our school wasn’t normal or anything, it was just different. For the most part, I liked it. It kept me grounded.

There are a lot more differences and other rules that I didn’t go over regarding my school but I’ll be sure to let you know when they come to mind.

-2-

Liberty University is situated on the hills coasting along the countryside slightly isolated from the city of Lynchburg in southern Virginia. It’s rather quiet and sort of a deserted city like the one in “I am Legend”,  especially in the summer because most students are home for break. The first thing one of my friends noticed about Lynchburg was that people there actually held doors for you and the men always addressed you with either “sir” or “ma’am”. She really appreciates that because she is from New York.

I think the average age of the population is over 45 and most of its revenue comes from the student body at Liberty University. Slowly but surely, my school has been taking over Lynchburg by legally annexing estates, businesses and leased buildings. Making it one of the biggest corporations to date. This upcoming institution was headed by Dr. Jerry Falwell since 1971. I don’t know much about him but he was the first school chancellor and basically built Liberty University from the ground up. Solicited donations, mission trips and a ridiculous amount of PR was what Mr. Falwell used to put Liberty on a pedestal. His sole mission was to see that his school trained its students to be Champions for Christ.

I think he did well for the school. In 2007, Dr. Falwell died. When that time came, it was like Liberty lost a great man and leader. The way black followers lost Dr. Martin Luther King. Then his son Jerry Falwell Jr. became successor as Chancellor and so far, He’s been doing well without his father. He ran Liberty just the way his father did. Monopolizing every inch of Lynchburg and expanding every part of Liberty from sports  to academics. Most people don’t want to admit but the Falwells run Lynchburg.

-3-

I came to Liberty University because it was the only school I applied to. If I remember correctly, I got a bunch of their application brochures through the mail. I graduated  from Robert E. Lee  High School with an advanced diploma, 3.5 GPA and a SAT score of 1700. My plan was to attend an in-state college like VCU or George Mason. Well, I didn’t really stick  to the plan because of how unbelievably lazy and nonchalant I was at the time. I never met with my guidance counselor to discuss which college I wanted to go. I didn’t hunt down any of my professors for much needed recommendations. I avoided all the college seminars like the Black Death.

Six weeks after my graduation in June 2007, I still hadn’t applied to any colleges and I did not care. I could have done without the stress of filling applications and writing 3-page essays on how I could have added to the campus program or stuff like that. I didn’t need the hassle of applying for loans and then wait anxiously for a letter from some school that would either accept or reject me. No thank you.

I was just lost in my ignorant paradise at my older brother’s two-bedroom apartment in Alexandria. Lying down on a comfortably plush sofa with my Xbox controller in hand usually beating people online and talking smack about their moms and how much they sucked at FIFA. Nothing else mattered.

Sometimes, my mother got on my case  when she gracefully bustled through the door with large grocery bags in both arms. The bags were filled with all the good stuff our almost-bare fridge desperately needed. I was grateful until she constantly kept asking me about whether I had applied to any schools and made stinging comments about me playing video games all day instead of doing something more productive. I was getting a little irritated with her but I was grateful once again when she brought out two boxes of Hot Pockets from one of the Safeway bags. Ham and Cheese. Ham and Cheese.

I helped her with the rest of groceries as we made our way into the small but very functional kitchen.

“Have you heard from VCU yet?” She asked,

“No, I just sent the application like a week ago,” I lied. Already opening one of the Hot Pockets.

“And have you also applied to George Mason?”

“Yeah, I just finished that, I’m just working on the essays right now,” I said flatly as I heated my favorite snack in the microwave for one minute and twenty-eight seconds. I didn’t heat it for two whole minutes because I don’t like to wait for it to cool down a bit.  One minute and twenty-eight seconds is just enough to melt the cheese and cook the ham without scalding my tongue after I take the first bite.

The busy woman looked at her watch and grabbed her jingle of keys as they clanked and clinked together.

“Okay, I have to go, I have to pick up the laundry, go to the bank, pick up your brother from school and go back to work”

As she listed her various tasks  she was yet to complete, I knew it was all too much a reminder of the cliche that a mother’s work is never done. She closed the door behind her and I got back to the sofa and my video games.

-4-

You can say Liberty came to my rescue. I was at dead-end and couldn’t keep up the facade of being responsible about my education with my family. Eventually,  another month would past way beyond the application deadlines and they would have been wondering about letters from VCU and George Mason. I had no choice. By the end of summer, I was supposed to be in college.

Fortunately,  this southern Baptist and private-run college was accepting applications all year round, had a 95 percent admission rate and gave me a bunch of scholarships for submitting my applications and $250 deposit on time. I also had to submit an essay about my relationship with Jesus Christ and trust me, that was easier than writing about what my contributions would be to prevent global warning and other worldly issues.

“I love Jesus…” I wrote satirically with a conceited grin spreading across my face. It’s funny, Even though I grew up in a Christian home, read the Bible, memorised John 3:16 and was forced to go to church every Sunday, I never felt like I understood this whole relationship thing with Jesus. I remember when I was about 9-years-old kneeling down in Sunday school with our preacher asking us to let Jesus into our hearts- I was nine, I literally thought His spirit would enter me until I figured that was all metaphysical and metaphoric talk at age 12. I knew God, he existed and I knew he had a son named Jesus who died for our sins on the cross but that is only because I was taught all that stuff and exposed to that culture. If you asked me if I ever believed any of it. Well, I wouldn’t be able to answer you right away.

When I finished writing my essay, I held it up and read every word about my secretly feigned faith and spiritual commitment to Jesus Christ. I chuckled to myself.

-5-

The orientation for international students was  scheduled for August 10, 2007.  My mother and I drove four hours from northern Virginia all the way to the south. We were coasting along long stretches of roads on the highway to ones lined with barn fences with cattle grazing on grass out in the distance from the view of my window seat. I still didn’t realize we left Alexandria until my favorite hip-hop station was lost in the static and in its place was a station that played sole country and classic rock. I didn’t mind though because “Evil Woman” by Electric Light Orchestra had me nodding rhythmically.

“Have you packed everything you needed? You are sure you didn’t leave anything behind,” My mother asked for the tenth time as she looked at the backseat of our maple-green Jeep Cherokee that was stuffed with all of my belongings and other college essentials. She pushed her dark long hair behind back. Her smooth and serious light-brown eyes turned to mine that prompted for direct confirmation.

“Yeah ma, I did. I have the list here like you told to me make,” I asserted. It was quiet again for a few moments.

“So do you like this school? is it where you want to go?” she asked.

I had to carefully think of what I was going to say and sound convincing that this is what I wanted to do. That I had chosen Liberty over everything else. When in truth, I was just succumbing to pressures of family tradition. My older brother and sister both went to good schools and made a decent living for themselves after graduation. Sure, I was going to a school my father had never heard of and was actually displeased with but I was still showing them at I was well on my way to make something of myself. Whatever that was.

So I told my mother that Liberty is a good school. It is a Christian school and not like other colleges. I won’t get distracted and that I will probably meet people that would help me grow in my faith. All of this I told her so that she feels reassured that there’s hope for her troubled son.

The sun seemed to be in a good mood as its rays blessed the flowery garden beds and added a sparkling sheen to the water sloshing from the school’s marble-stoned fountain. Making everybody aware of its warm yet surprisingly cool presence.  I walked into the grand lobby of the Visitor Center where they were hosting the welcoming ceremony for the international students. Its architectural structure was like one of those buildings in Athens meant for Zeus and the other Greek gods. It had this enormous isosceles triangle resting on about 12 thick rounded Roman Ionic columns. Honestly, it seems like I’m trying too hard to describe the weather and a school building that I personally am not impressed with. I can’t effortlessly describe and picture certain landmarks in your head the way these “#1 New York Times bestseller” authors do when you pick up their fancy and glossed paperback novels from Barnes and Nobles. Nontheless, I’ll get back to the international students’ ceremony

The Grand Lobby was a huge and evenly spaced room with fancy portraits of the late Chancellor Dr. Jerry Falwell, and other important men that helped build or contribute to the college somehow. Hanging from the ceiling was an enormous chandelier sparkling with a tint of glass-stained colors. You could see your reflection from the polished and beige tiled floors with the school’s motto engraved in the center.

There were several round tables with students from various backgrounds chattering among themselves. Asking each other’s names, their respective majors and how they heard about Liberty. I noticed a girl with a petite frame possibly from South Korea get up and walk to a nicely covered stretch table stacked with breakfast items from one end to the other. Her skin in between pale and slightly tan. She helped herself to a bagel she gracefully merged with cream cheese. She then walked back with it on a paper plate to her table of friends. With a court smile on her face, she slid it to one of her friends which I would prematurely assume was her boyfriend.

I looked at my orientation guide to double-check I was at the right place and event. Before I took another step, A girl with a name-tag brushed in front of me and greeted me with an innocent smile that showed her perfectly aligned teeth.

“Hi, I’m Lisa! Are you here for the ceremony?” she asked energetically.

I had to slightly bend my head because of her short height then had to readjust when I found myself staring at her cup-sized breasts instead of her dark brown eyes. Her long dark hair was tamed in a binding ponytail. She then parted her short bangs from the center of her forehead and tucked a small strand behind her left ear. Still smiling at me.

I tried not get lost in her soft visage because she definitely surprised me but I recovered.

“Yeah, is this it?” I asked finally, I already knew it was but I always wanted more confirmation when it came to these things.

“Yes! You are just on time. We are about to go over the orientation and the big table over there’s got all the food so you can go and help yourself to anything,”

“Thanks,” I automatically said.

“So where are you from?”

“I’m from Ghana,”

“Oh that’s so cool! there are some guys here from Kenya and Nigeria too,” As she stealthily pointed out three African guys in the back of Grand Lobby cracking jokes together at their table.

“You should sit with them,” She made a good point. The ceremony couldn’t get any more segregated than it was. Everybody at their tables clung to their respective international clans. If they came from the same continent or country, shared the same background, It just made things easier going forward. I wasn’t going to break the cycle. So I walked  to the table with the other African students.

-6-

My eyes opened up to an attractive girl wearing a pink tight dress popping a bottle of champagne. She stood there coyly with a flirtatious smile as always, plastered on the Sheetrock wall, almost life-like. Sleep hadn’t left my eyes yet but I was fully aware that I had to go class. Inevitably, my cell phone started nagging at me with its annoying alarm tones that disrupted the cool calm of the morning. I reached out to silence it in apologetic fashion because my roommate Russian was fast and peacefully asleep on the bottom of our bunk bed.

I reluctantly forced myself up then hopped down to the floor. Proud of myself that I did so with little strenuous effort. I waded through piles of my text-books, several novels and assignment papers that smothered my softwood study desk. I finally unearthed a single pen from the clutter. After a few darted spurts of my Old Spice body spray, I filled my book bag with my GNED text-book and just remembered to take out the empty box of Dominoes pizza before I headed to the first class of freshman year.

Kulo from Kenya was waiting for me at the cavernous hallways of the DeMoss Learning Center. He was one of the African students I sat with at the orientation. He seemed like a cool guy because he didn’t make me uncomfortable by outwardly professing his faith like everyone else I met on the way here. And I knew we’d get along fine when he asked me to check out the ass on one of the girls from the campus tours.

He was calmly leaning on the doors that opened up to double-room classrooms bigger than the usual auditorium in high school. I saw him straightening the collar of his striped Ralph Lauren button-up shirt. It fit him snugly, his sleeves were tightly rolled up to the elbows, accentuating his biceps and chest. Typical V-shaped torso look. For the first day of school, it was obvious he dressed up nicely for it. I teased him on trying to look good for the ladies already.

“Nah man, that’s just my style,” He said laughing “Don’t hate”

“You wish,” I scoffed jokingly.

“So what class is this again?” He asked.

“I don’t know, It’s like one of those religious classes, GNED, they teach you about abortion, faith and stuff. My counselor signed me up for it,”

“Man, mine too, It’s compulsory.It’s part of your Christian Service,”

We then talked about our assigned professor Mr. Matthouse and I wondered what he looked like. Probably some typical old-fat-white-professor or some middle-aged guy that tries to show his students that he is cool and endlessly talks about his wife and kids. We realized it was time to find  seats as other students flocked and bustled through the hallways into their respective classes. As we stepped in the fluorescent-lighted room, Kulo walked to the back amid all the echoing-chatter and ruffling of papers and motioned for me to follow. We sat down next to each other and I realized we were suddenly surrounded by really attractive girls. Mostly blonde, but nonetheless, a devilish grin slowly spread across Kulo’s face with a satisfying nod. I was smiling too, even though we were taking GNED at a time I thought I would never have to wake up for again since high school.

-7-

Mr. Matthouse was not an old-fat-white professor as I expected but he definitely fell into the middle-aged-man-trying-to-act-cool-with-the-students-and-talk-about-family-all -the-time category. Except it was not as annoying. His mild five o’clock shadow made him likable along with his metallic grey sports jacket over a light-blue buttoned-up shirt. His puffed cheeks and overall roundness made him resemble one of those Italian-American gangsters from GoodFellas. Paulie, I thought. He looks like Paulie.

“Alright settle down. Good morning class and welcome to Liberty! I’m Mr. Matthouse and before we begin with the first day of class, let’s pray,” he clasped his hands together, dropped his head and the sound of indistinct conversations and books faded to silence.

After he ended his prayer for a good year and other school-related requests, he continued.

“Welcome to your first class of GNED. What is GNED? It’s very important that you know and understand the concept of this very subject. It deals with the General Description of the Contemporary Issues,” As he pointed out the spelled out acronym on a projected PowerPoint he prepared for class, I noticed that General Description of the Contemporary Issues didn’t match the acronym GNED at all.

“GNED is designed to establish your Christian worldview, and to equip you all to apply it through a biblically centered decision making process in relation to various contemporary issues such as Creation, Evolution and abortion but that won’t be discussed until the later stages of this class.

Ummm, it is also intended to introduce you students to the basic principles of Christian responsibility,  church and community life and service which will prepare you for your CSER, Christian Service when you reach sophomore year.

Uh,  As a reminder, if you are a new or transfer undergraduate student, you must sign up for these classes during their first two “full time” semesters at Liberty before you partake in CSER. It’s very important that you do because every student needs a total of 120 hours of CSER to graduate. So make sure you see your academic advisors. Obviously all of you already have or you wouldn’t be in GNED 101. But as I said, it’s just a reminder. So! Let’s go over the syllabus,”

Damn, first day of class and I already forgot to print it out.

-8-

My roommate Russian was keeping me up. It was past 2. a.m. and he was playing Russian heavy death metal music bellowing from his incredibly loud Dual Audio Sub-woofers under his study desk. The lead singer’s voice was cranked up at full volume of a 120 watts of blood-lust growling or gut-deep grunts trying to force a stubborn turd of shit out.

There was no point in putting my pillow over my head or telling him to turn the music down. Our whole room was engulfed in a chaotic madness of drums, guitar riffs and haunting gibberish. I left the room before our RA came in and told him to shut his music down for the fourth time while writing him up.

I walked out through the hallways of our trailer dorm.. Two boys were giggling in the hallways and wrestling each other on the cold tiled floor. A group of close friends probably from the same high school were conversing about crazy moments they had together as I walked past their room. I needed to take a walk.

“Hey man, where you’re goin?” Keith my prayer leader, which is Liberty’s version of a college peer leader, stopped me short before I pushed through the double-doors. Maybe  I didn’t know any better but I could feel his friendly tone and toothy smile was just a front to cover up the authoritative rush he got from being prayer leader.

“I’m just going out,” I attempted to slip by him but then he placed a seemingly friendly but stern grip on my shoulder.

“Oh I don’t mean to sound like a jerk and all, maybe you don’t know, but you can’t leave the halls after the curfew. Like, you can do whatever you want whiles you’re in the hall but students aren’t allowed to leave ’til 5 am. Just wanna make sure you know that,”

He could have gone on and given me endless lectures about other school rules but I cut him off.

“Uh yeah, I’m just standing outside the door to make a call, at&t suck because I hardly get any coverage wherever I go,” I said jokingly trying to diffuse the tension between us, “I won’t be long,”

“Oh okay, yeah that’s cool. that’s cool,” he slowly backed off “My name’s Keith by the way,” he stretched out his hand to shake mine “I’m a prayer leader on this hall and if you need anything, like a prayer request or wanna talk, I’m in this room right here, so feel free alright?”

“Yeah, thanks man,” I was actually glad that he was so wrapped up in his self-importance that he didn’t bother to ask me my name. I raised my Nokia cell phone at him.

“I’ll go make this phone call, real quick,”

The streetlights were watching over me and I slowly crossed the street that surrounded the whole campus. There were no cars around so I wondered why I bothered walking the zebra crossing when there were no cars cruising by.

I wasn’t going to make a phone call. I lied about that. I just wanted to take a walk, clear my head. I was already regretting coming to Liberty. I just didn’t fit in. The way almost everybody couldn’t finish a sentence with the word God in it. How God had been good to them, how God made it possible for them to come here, how God just spoke to them and revealed Himself to them. I was sick of it.

The surprised and awkward looks the other guys gave me when I said I had no prayer requests in prayer groups. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

One time, I heard overheard one of the dorm-mates say “That guy listens to an awful lot of secular music,” as he passed my room talking to his roommate.

The word made me cringe. The thought of “Can’t tell me nothing” by Kanye West labeled as secular was weird. My friends from high school didn’t call it secular it was just rap. Even my mother never said that, she just asked me to turn it down.

I was so confused, the connotation left a sour taste in my mouth. So maybe the song didn’t actually praise God. Hell, I even had the clean version. But did listening to a rapper rapping about rebellion, determination and his life experiences really secular? Just because it is without a Christian element, then it is merely inferior, misguided and not suitable.

It felt like one of those movies, where I was the only normal person and everybody else was brainwashed and mind-controlled by some alien zombie element and it was up to me to uncover some deep terrible secret behind Liberty.

“Hmph, secular,”

I kept walking until I reached the main campus dining hall. Past that was a parking lot that lead to a railroad crossing.

]]> http://www.kuukusblog.com/2010/07/04/post-grad-chapter-1-3/feed/ 2 http://www.kuukusblog.com/2010/07/02/ghana-miss-out-on-semi-finals-i-blame-you-gyan-suarez-too/ http://www.kuukusblog.com/2010/07/02/ghana-miss-out-on-semi-finals-i-blame-you-gyan-suarez-too/#comments Sat, 03 Jul 2010 00:55:19 +0000 Kwaku De-Graft-Duncan http://www.kuukusblog.com/?p=303 All that separated Ghana from a ticket to the Semi-Finals was a penalty spot kick awarded at the very depth of extra time. And when it seemed like Ghana would make history by being the first African team to make it to the semi-finals, Asamoah Gyan blasted all of Africa’s hopes onto the crossbar.

It happened so fast that I didn’t even get to hold my breath. I couldn’t savor the tension or flirt with ecstatic thoughts of reaching the semi-finals. All I remember were four-worded expletives leaving my mouth and being trapped in a delusional nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. And it’s all Asamoah Gyan’s fault.

I was never confident in Asamoah Gyan’s penalty-taking capabilities. Even though he is a good striker in open play, his penalties have always been sketchy. People say I’m being negative but let me recall that this is the same striker that missed a penalty against Czech Republic to go two goals up four years ago.

Yes, I know it was Uruguayan striker Luis Suarez that villainously handled the ball and denied us the winner but he got what he desereved with a red card. To tell you the truth, I don’t blame him for cheating because it’s natural and I’ve seen a lot of players handle the ball on the goal line especially when the pressure mounts up. It’s not right but that doesn’t mean that they won’t do it.

What I didn’t expect was Asamoah Gyan to miss the most important penalty in his career. Penalties can be missed but I believe the statistical odds are with the player behind the ball. In Gyan’s case, it was supposed to be a game-winning penalty but he missed it. Seriously, ask yourself- did you think he was going to miss it? I sure didn’t. Ultimately, we shouldn’t have been in that situation.

What’s even worse is that the psychological baggage from the penalty miss carried over to the rest of the Ghanaian squad and affected their performance. John Mensah’s horribly tame effort at the penalty kick. Adiyah’s inexperience and opening of his body tipped off Uruguay goalkeeper into making an easy save.

But overall, Ghana has had a good run at the World Cup and there is no use in dwelling on what could have been. If only that idiot Suarez didn’t handle the ball on the goal line and Asamoah Gyan didn’t miss that penalty. Ok, I’ll end it here. Just like Ghana’s World Cup campaign.

On sale from Thursday 29thJuly, the 70s style shirt is made up of a block red body with a white round neck collar, and white sleeves. Inside the shirt on the back of the club crest is inscribed Arsenal’s motto: “Victoria, Concordia, Crescit”. The shorts and socks are white.

While the design is traditional, the technology is cutting edge. Every shirt is made entirely from recycled polyester, crafted from up to eight plastic water bottles as part of Nike’s ‘Considered Design’ programme, which sees discarded plastic bottles diverted from landfills  to be used in the manufacturing process.**

The improved Nike Dri-Fit fabric, now 13% lighter than previous kits, helps to quickly evaporate moisture by drawing it through the fabric to the surface, to keep players dry. Ventilation zones on the sides of the jersey and back of shorts enhance breathability by up to 7%. And the double knit structure of the jersey gives it 10% more stretch.

The classic design and ethical makeup of the kit has already proved a big hit with the Arsenal players.

Alex Song said: “The shirt is traditional, it’s red and white which the fans love, and it shows the history of the Club.

“I watched Arsenal on TV lots when I was young and just saw red and white. If someone told me six or seven years ago I’d be able to wear these colours it would have been unbelievable, so today I’m so happy to wear this shirt and to do my best for this shirt.”

Thomas Vermaelen agreed, saying: “I really like this new kit. It’s the typical colours for Arsenal, white and red, and it’s really nice. Every club has their own traditional colours. For Arsenal it’s red and white and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

Theo Walcott summed the new kit up: “The colours are very traditional, it feels nice and it’s made from recycled plastic bottles so what more can you ask for?! It fits and feels nice, and that’s the most important thing. I think it’s important that you feel comfortable in it.”

Those who pre-order the new home shirt at arsenal.com or an official Arsenal store, will receive a redcurrant Arsenal polo neck t-shirt in the same size, worth £20***, absolutely free while stocks last!

The new Arsenal home shirt is priced £45 for adults (£50 long sleeved) with children’s shirts at £35 (£40 long sleeved). The Armoury, All Arsenal, Finsbury Park and Enfield stores will be open 9am – 5.30pm on Thursday 29th July. Further information for activities taking place on kit launch day will be posted on www.arsenal.com in due course.

New 2010/11 Home kit