Tag Archives: Facebook

“Eat Mor Chikin” – Nah, I’m good.

First, here’s the thing:  my immediate goal in life is to finish my dissertation.  This means everything that isn’t my dissertation is on the back burner.  Everything.  “Doing what I have to do so that I can do what I want to do” – I’m all about that life right now.

Over the next year, I suspect this is how things will go.  I’ll interrupt your regularly scheduled program with bits of social and/or political commentary, and I’ll slip back into seclusion.  My friend, who finished his Doctorate a couple of months ago, calls it “the bubble.”  The bubble is my reality from now until graduation day.

But before I go, here’s a nugget I’ll just leave here for your consumption.

My Beef with Chik-fil-A

Today is my early day.  Ideally, I’d go home to drop off my things, and head to the Chik-fil-A on Exit 13 – it’s my favorite location.  The nuggets there are always fresh, waffle fries are always crisp, and when I order a ‘half and half, more tea than lemonade,’ they make it perfectly every time.  The customer service is also great there – they respond to all of your ‘thank yous’ with ‘my pleasure,’ and they call you by name before bringing your tray over to your table.  And they’re always so well-stocked in those after dinner mints I love.

I don’t eat fast food often, but when I do, I eat Chik-fil-A.  It’s been my favorite fast food joint since I was in high school.  But I can’t go there anymore.  I can’t spend my money there.  And I’m not being petty about it; I don’t care that Truett Cathy doesn’t support marriage equality.  As long as the recipe for the nuggets and fries didn’t change, he and I could coexist at opposite ends of the spectrum just fine.  What eats me up is that Chik-fil-A has taken personal opinion into the political realm.  In politics, money contributed to campaigns translates into politicians who push policies that have real consequences for people’s’ quality of life.  As a general principle, lawmakers are supposed to create policies that expand opportunities for individuals, and ensure their liberty and dignity.  This idea is the most fundamental element of American citizenship and spirit.  We are free to disagree, but we don’t use religion disguised as tradition to impose our will.

Chik-fil-A and those who are misguided in their support of these supposed “traditional Christian values’ are doing exactly the opposite of what our Founders intended – blending church, state, and commerce to elevate their position.  I said in a Facebook status last week that  it’s important to remember when it comes to arbitrary moral designations, the pendulum swings both ways.  In other words,  one day someone’s arbitrary moral compass will devalue something or someone you care about and you’ll understand why claiming allegiance to ‘values’ which strip folks of their dignity just doesn’t square.

As it stands today, despite having the same qualifications and levels of experience, women in certain types of jobs are still paid less than their male counterparts.  For every $1 earned by their male colleagues, they make approximately $0.70.  If you support the logic of Truett Cathy, then support it all the way.  Technically, traditional Christian values affirms this inequality.  Eve is of Adam’s rib, right?  Thus, in all things, and for all time, She is His subordinate.  You’d be hard pressed to find a woman as qualified as her colleagues, who works as hard as her colleagues, who’d be willing to accept being compensated less than her colleagues, gender differences notwithstanding.

I’m sorry folks, the logic just doesn’t bear out for me.  Chik-fil-A’s political contributions equal outright discrimination that’s permissible only because it’s couched in the terms “traditional,” “Christian,” and “values”.  I don’t have the patience for this.  I’m sick of fighting these culture wars because progress wins, or society loses.  In that regard, I’ve lost the taste for the kind of chikin-shit Chik-fil-A serves.



 Generation-X is clearly greater than you.

In the middle of a discussion with one of my students last week, she exclaimed, “How old are you?!”  I told her and she exclaimed again, “you’re that old?!  I can’t believe you’re old.  At least you don’t look it.”

So there’s the solace in that.  I’m old, but at least I don’t look it.


The beauty of young adult-hood is the untempered arrogance of youth.  18-24 year-olds think the sun revolves around them, and that we’re all longing to be that age again.

I, however, am not.

The wisdom gained from living to be almost 30 is far more attractive to me than some mental masturbation of starring in my own personal Back to the Future.  There’s no Biff I need to make amends with; no woman I failed to snag — no life I need to re-live.  Besides, the bullshit folks try to pass off as knowledge, humor, truth, and logic is clearer now.  You have less patience for it, and bigger balls to call it out.  Or you should — if you livin’ life right.

Some of us are lucky enough to figure out what we will and won’t  stand for early in our 20s.  But that’s really just practice.  Often, the rigid stances we take at 21 aint worth the Facebook status update we claimed it in.   Please.  I wouldn’t trade the comfort I feel at this stage of the game for the angst of 23 any day.  Y’all can have that.  And for the record, I wouldn’t trade the early 20s social scene either.  You think Imma put in a linen pocket square, or pop tags on an outfit only to have some bamma sweatin to Waka Flocka brush up against me?  Nope.  Not at all.  Y’all can have that too.  I have no interest in early adult hormones scuffing my shoes or staining my jacket.  You see, I’m grown.  And more importantly, I’m very much aware that the lights will come up eventually.

One of the fine folks I follow said recently that cats born after 1985 are unreliable in their opinions on greatness.  It’s no strike against them personally.  Their generation simply failed them, as their contemporaries are shitty points of reference.   Entertainment that you don’t have to be ashamed of suffers with post-1985’ers at the helm.  I once thought Mark Zuckerberg, the founder of Facebook, might be the saving grace, but then I learned that dude actually was est’d. in ’84.  Sooooo… womp-womp on that.

To be sure, Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em can make a helluva radio hit that I will bump in the ride endlessly for a couple weeks or so.  But is Soulja Boy’s artistry the kind you’re really trying to pass on to your little ones?  “Listen here, little one, Soulja Boy was the man from 2007 to 2009ish.  We was supermannin hoes like shit.”  Somehow, I don’t foresee this.  However, I don’t mind you getting your pretty girl/boy swag on whilst contemplating this query.  Get out the waaaaaaay…

Ya know, I find that I’m definitely not sorry that very little of what I heard in 2006, I’m even remotely interested in hearing today.  Apart from the nostalgia of a dope memory associated with a mediocre song, I’m good on the likes of Teairra Marí, Justin Bieber, and Drake.  (Not that I have any dope memories associated with Bieber, but you understand my meaning.) Now, there is one exception:  Trey Songz’s yodeling ass was born in 1984.  So technically, he’s ours. But talent-wise, he’s all y’all’s. Don’t no neighbors know his raggedy ass name.

Aesthetics over substance.  That’s what American culture (and politics, for that matter) is.  In theory, innovation, revolution, freshness should be associated with youth.  In reality in 2010, youth has failed that cause miserably.  Cats think they can do it without knowing it, without living it, or experiencing it.  And so the honesty and earnestness, the sincerity and the love are curiously absent post-’85.  I’m absolutely convinced they’ve been replaced by preoccupations with skinny jeans and teaching elderly cats how to Dougie.