Baby Girl

Hotep,


I love the holiday season. I mean, this time of year always makes me feel like a kid again, Donnie Hathaway singing “This Christmas,” or The Temptations rendition of “Silent Night.” No matter how old I get, or how negative the circumstances may be, my childhood memories of holiday seasons past ignites a flame within me that warms the hearts of those around me. Word is bond.

I strongly believe that every child should be fond of the holiday season. It hurts to think of children who haven’t experienced the warmth of the holiday season. It also hurts to know that some children have experienced this holiday euphoria and never will again. Na mean?

Shannon Tavarez was an 11 year old thespian-to-be. This beautiful work of art starred on Broadway, playing the character of “Nala” in the classic stage play “The Lion King.” Baby Girl succumbed to acute myelogenous leukemia, a disease common in adults, but rare among children. Her life was so short, yet she has made an everlasting impression on so many people, Alicia Keys, Rihanna and 50 Cent to name a few. She left us at the cusp of this year’s holiday season, but I’m sure she brought joy to her family and loved ones while experiencing the excitement the holiday season can bring to a child.

Mirlande Felime’s family was devastated by the earthquake that shattered Haiti last year. In 2 years of existence, Baby Girl has endured more trauma than the average child growing up in this country. No doubt. Before Mirlande was brought to America, her diet consisted of rocks insects, hay and plastic. She escaped the disaster of her homeland when an American doctor detected a mass growing between her legs. A tumor the size of a small orange was the root of severe complications for this beautiful little person.

I’m relieved to report that Mirlande is now enjoying yogurt, fresh fruit and instant oatmeal on a daily basis. Seeing her in her fuschia knit dress and matching fuschia barrettes fills me with the warmth I spoke of earlier. You see, the holiday season fills me with warmth because I’ve experienced it as a child and a child is what the holiday season is really about, right? The holiday season began with a child’s birth. A child that felt warmth and affection during the most dire of circumstances. Feel me?

How can the holiday season not be a time of grand celebrations when children will always be amongst us? I pray that Mirlande remains in this country and is given a chance to experience what she has already given to so many others. Warmth reflection and gratitude for a child being the reason for the season. Ya heard?

As for Shannon, aka Nala, I applaud your legacy Baby Girl. Your MannofStat is more than honored to have encountered the heart of a lion soothed by the smile of a child. R.I.P. Lil’ Mama.

Keep it 100,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

The Bing

Hotep,


Prison life is hard enough without the inclusion of solitary confinement, aka “The Bing”. This form of punishment can be a harsh reality of incarceration. My reason for saying, “can be,” is because some prisoners have the ability to delve deep within themselves and accept the concept of this punishment as an opportunity for self-replenishment. Na mean?

Ten to fifteen days can be a walk in the park for the average prison inhabitant, but when days turn into months and months become years, “The Bing” can be a horrific experience for someone who thrives on daily interactions with familiar faces; or someone who may have delusional expectations that they should be treated with a higher regard, by prison officials, than the next prison inhabitant. Feel me?

Speaking from experience, I’ve learned that it’s a grave challenge waking up every day and interacting with a complete stranger; a stranger who has been condemned to death for killing another person or persons. Sometimes “The Bing” can be a relief, a time to exhale and refocus your vision on the ultimate task at hand. But, the average human being cannot withstand the conditions or mentality of the state’s version of solitude.

I somewhat enjoy the few privileges allowed to me: Outside recreation, canteen and DVD movies. I can’t whole-heartedly enjoy these privileges because I understand that they are rewards in a sense, to remain obedient. I don’t need to be rewarded for obedience, which is why I refuse to whole-heartedly enjoy the dangling carrot of penitentiary privileges. But I’ll embrace the process of recharging my life’s battery. The rejuvenation of my mental comes about when I separate myself from others. And, it’s not essential that I go to “The Bing” to accomplish that. Na mean?

Death row prisoners are permitted 14 ½ hours a day of restricted movement outside of their cells. I choose to spend 5 of those 14 ½ hours of so called freedom inside of my cell, evaluating myself daily. Real talk. For this reason, my focus remains clear: My ultimate goal of UHURU (Swahili for “Freedom”) stands as top priority. Therewith, reaching the masses to educate, learn and attempt to expel the stereotypical idiosyncrasies, of a death row prisoner; stereotypes that are nurtured by crooked lawmakers and their cronies in the mass media. Ya heard?

“The Bing” is designed to damage the mindset of a sane person. At times, the walls of seclusion will overwhelm its inhabitant, imposing a feeling of being buried alive is probably a more accurate testament. This feeling induces psychotic reactions from sane human beings (e.g. Suicide attempts, swallowing batteries, self-mutilation). All attempts, at receiving human interaction. Feel me?

Obviously, some people cannot deal with the walls of seclusion, but I prefer to take a page from the legendary novelist/journalist, Mr. Wilbert Rideau’s book, “In the Place of Justice.” Or better yet, a mere phrase: “Aren’t we always struggling against walls? Not always of concrete and steel, but walls nonetheless – ignorance, poverty, indifference, oppression.” Word is bond!!

Keep on Keepin,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Immortal Words

Hotep,

My man Ed (R.I.P) used to say, “Pressure will bust a pipe.” He’d always say it in the waning minutes of a basketball or football game. If a player choked in the clutch, you could count on Ed’s signature phrase ringing in your eardrums: “Pressure will bust a pipe!” Followed by his crazy Herman Munster-like laugh. A laugh that was contagious. Breeding humor when you least expected it. Word is bond!

Ed has moved on. His bouts with hemophilia, hepatitis, sclerosis of the liver and H.I.V eventually forced him to succumb in 2002. But, as long as there’s ink in my pen and words on my tongue, his memory will live on. No doubt. Ed and I would gauge the best players by how well they responded under pressure. Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson and Joe Montana were always the standard. These cats thrived under pressure. They raised their level of play, deflating the pressure and dictating the outcome of games. That’s what’s up.

I was watching t.v. with Ed when the towers fell on 9/11. Prior to the special report, we were debating about my beloved Sixers and his up and coming Pistons. You see, Ed was a motor-mouth from Detroit and I’m an MC from North Philly, but at that moment we were both speechless. Stranded on death row, watching thousands of people perish brought new meaning to: “Pressure will bust a pipe.” At that point, sports talk seemed immensely senseless to me. Na mean?

When the report of a third commercial flight hitting the Pentagon dashed across the screen, the last days seemed to be more reality than prophecy. Instinctively, we prayed for our families and loved ones. We couldn’t pick up a phone to call the kids. We couldn’t jump in the whip to go check on Moms. Panic grew from a seed to a mature adolescent as other prisoners started voicing their opinions about the very near future.

Some anticipated a mandatory lockdown. Others feared a mass execution of death row prisoners, but “Dr. Detroit” and I diffused the pressure. We overcame the sudden panic of 911 by acknowledging the footprints in the sand. Ya heard?

The following year, Ed’s health was rapidly fading. Watching him die before he had his day in court was added pressure that was beginning to get the best of me. But, hi voice of reason was there for me whenever I felt like I was dying on the inside. He’d explain to me what dying truly felt like. Then he’d tell me to look into his purple-shaded eyes to remind me what dying looked like. Real talk.

Ed, a.k.a “Dr. Detroit,” died in prison, but he left behind a strong sense of freedom. A solid foundation exudes an undying confidence in the face of any form of pressure. Taking the last shot, running the two-minute offense, or witnessing an American tragedy while waiting to become one. You gotta keep your head in the game people. If not, “Pressure will bust a pipe.” For sure.

Keep it 100,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Gratitude

Hotep,


The season of thankfulness is upon us once more. It’s ironic that we’ve set aside a particular season for being thankful when every waking hour of our existence gives us plenty to be thankful for. Na mean? But, in the spirit of the Thanksgiving season, I’d like to share my thankfulness with the masses. So here’s some flavor for your ear.

First and foremost, I have to thank my Creator for allowing my eyelids to continue blinking throughout an eventful 42 year journey. I’m truly thankful for my life’s experiences, good and bad. The best times made for some good memories, but it’s the pitfalls in life that define a Mann’s character. Ya heard?

For my fam and my loved ones, thankful doesn’t begin to describe my gratitude for their unconditional love and support. My current situation has been a strain on our ability to break bread in the traditional Thanksgiving fashion, but the visits and correspondences keep me in the loop of your life’s progressions. And for that, I’m deeply grateful. Word is bond!

And how can I not be thankful for the future of my fam? My cuzzo Jazzy, my nephew Juwan and my grandseed Daveante Jr., aka “Deuce.” My love overflows for you. Whenever I think of Jazzy’s creative writing skills or Juwan’s hardy demeanor and inquiring mind or my Lil’ Mann Deuce getting his first haircut, I see myself within them and I gush with pride. Their existence has healed some of my old wounds and injected me with a vaccine that helps me combat the virus known as despair. Feel me?

Basically, I’m grateful to just be alive and experiencing the art of living. No matter what your situation may be, you can always make the most out of being alive. I experienced one of greatest joys in life last night (11/15/10) while listening to my man Mike Vick “Vicktimize” Donovan McNabb and the Washington Redskins over the radio waves.

Vick completed 20/28 passes for 333 yards. He threw 4 touchdowns, ran for 80 yards and 2 more touchdowns and his 150.7 passer rating is tops in the NFL. His journey is a true redemption story (http://word2themasses.blogspot.com/2010/10/redemption.html ), one that allows media pundits to understand that some of us are truly thankful for second chances. And, for where Vick is taking the Eagles this year, I am so grateful! Holla if ya hear me.

Keep it 100,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Rock the Mic Right

Entering the sound booth...

Adjusting the mic...

Donning the headphones...

Inhale...

Exhale...

Then signal the engineer to key up the track...

Welcome to the moment of truth, the life of an MC...

OH, what a beautiful life it could be.


Hotep,

This intoxicating ritual has bred timeless lyrics by some of the rawest MC’s ever know to man. Think of the greats: KRS-One, RaKim, Kool G. Rap, Biggie and Jay-Z. When speaking of all-time greatest MC’s that’s my starting five. Give me Nas and 2Pac off the bench and I’ll show you a lyrical dream team without competition. Na mean?

In my opinion, the best lyrical content is founded on life experiences. Life experiences of struggle, disappointment and striving to come up. The life experiences develop great MC’s, not songs about the latest dance. Not the mass of ringtones you’ve accumulated since your latest single dropped. Not the high budgeted music video with the half naked females over shadowing the delivery of all lyrical content. Nah, an MC lives for the expression of his words. Feel me?

Notice I said, “MC” not rapper. Rappers come and go, but an MC is forever. An MC will always be an MC. The booth, the mic, even the headphones maybe taken away, but the MC’s expression will continue to burn within.

Words are the MC’s addiction. Consonants, vowels, prefixes and suffixes are an everyday habit. An MC speaks metaphorically during basic discussions without intent. Syllables and similes are literary planks that support the direction of an MC’s expression. Despite false accusations, rush to judgments or convictions granted by injustice, an MC will be an MC. Word is bond.

So I ask: Who’s the MC? Is it the latest rapper with the chart topping smash hit? Here’s a hint: The sound booth and the microphone isn’t always guaranteed. Ya heard? Holla if ya hear me, Lil’ Wayne. Stay chiseled “T.I.” From one MC to another, the fame may change, but the picture remains the same. Real talk.

Keep it 100,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

You Scared of the Dark?



Even on the darkest days the light is shining somewhere

 Hotep,


Whenever the media reports something tragic, the phrase: “The darkest days are amongst us,” always come to light. I actually felt that way when I saw two commercial planes slam into the sides of the twin towers on 9/11/01. The Columbine High shootings at the hands of the “Trench Coat Mafia” gave me deep dark feelings of despair as well.

Hurricane Katrina was a disaster, for sure, but the government’s initial rescue response was outright tragic. The earthquake that shattered Haiti was horrific. The visual of a child crying beside a house that collapsed on the child’s loved ones was a devastating image, indeed.

These are some dark times, no doubt, but the common denominator in all of these tragedies is the unification of humanity. No matter how dark of an era we may encounter, (The Great Depression, The Civil Rights Movement, or the Move Siege in West Philly) the human race tends to evolve and surmount the obstacles within the darkest of times. An evolution that encourages us to rise above the turmoil of life; to make do with what we have and to acknowledge that your situation could always be worse. Na mean?

Oft times, as people, we have the tendency to get caught up in the “Why me” syndrome. Well, there’s nothing wrong with asking that question unless you’re afraid to answer it. Feel me? Hear me people: when you get stuck on “Why me,” that’s the beginning of your darkest days. But, answering the question and using the answer as a template to better the lives of those around you will always bring light into your darkness. You may not notice an instantaneous improvement of your personal situation, but you’ll feel much better about who you’ve become. Word is bond!

So keep in mind people, the darkest of days is still light years away, if you understand why you’re in your current situation. Make the most of your situation by helping others in order to better yourself. Ya heard?

I’m out like Glenn Chapman.

Stay up,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Depressed No More

Hotep,

I attended last Sunday’s morning worship service and let me tell you, the chaplain spit some jewels, concerning depression. He gave examples of God fearing men (Moses, Jonah and Elijah), who dealt with depression, which isn’t hard for me to believe, considering the magnitude of the responsibilities they faced. Check out Elijah at Mount Carmel (Kings 18:16-38). After defeating the prophets of Baal, Elijah should’ve been on top of the world, right? But, not long after, fear and doubt got the best of him (1 Kings 19:1-16).

Depression can be lethal to the best of men. Check the math: 18.8 million Americans suffer from depression and know this: 1,080 people attempt suicide everyday. Real talk. Being on the row, can be a very depressing experience, no doubt. Like Elijah, sometimes you just get fed up with life’s trials, but depression is no reason to stop living. Word is bond!

In basketball every shooter will encounter a shooting slump at some point and time in their career. From personal experience I can tell you that the only way to defeat a shooting slump, is to just keep shooting. Depression can be defeated in the same manner. You just eventually become precise. Every shot attempt feels like the game winner and your swagger will return to high definition. Na mean?

Don’t give up on life. Depression is merely a slump. Fight your way through it, because the Creator is setting you up for the game winning shot. Ya heard?

R.I.P E-Boogie. I hate that I’m not throwing lobs to you anymore. You could’ve defeated your slump Dunn. But, your memory will live on because I’m still running the point. Feel me?

Stay up,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Music Gives…

“Around the way, you’re like a neighborhood jewel,

 

All the homeboys sweat you cause you’re crazy-cool."

LL Cool J

Hotep,

Music makes memories.

She can be life’s timetable.

Music gives us opportunities to grow.

She helps us to get to know others, as well as ourselves.

Music can be a peace offering or neutral ground where battles are forbidden.

Music has the ability to breed love, when hate is brewing on the horizon.

Music means tranquility in the midst of chaos, ignorance and envy.

Music offers redemption when society chooses to condemn.

She is the soundtrack for the peaks and valleys of my lifetime.

She has familiarized me with the success and failures of a Mann on the come-up.

Music is my around the way girl.

Basement parties, the Goody Shop or going into the store to purchase my Mom’s pantyhose when my masculinity wouldn’t allow me to do so.

Her image stayed close, when I moved far away.

Her voice is rhythmic.

Her actions are certified platinum.

Her passion has been the microphone for the transmission of my expressions.

Without music, what would life be?

She is a cornerstone in the construction of me becoming a better Mann.

She engineers the sound of my melodies to the masses.

Her existence is a gift to many.

The efforts of Music are amplified through speakers that reach those in need of that first dance, to shake off the butterflies and really get their party started.

But, when she’s ringing through my headphones, her sound not only encourages me to produce hits for the masses, she reminds me to never stop singing the song of Freedom.

I love you Music, my around the way girl.

Happy Birthday Ma!!

Lump,

Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

“She likes to dance to the rap jams,

She’s sweet as brown sugar with the candied yams.”

LL Cool J

Life is Worth Living

Hotep,
The following words are from a Mann who had recently been falsely accused of murder. This was written after the completion of his jury selection and after spending months in solitary confinement.

Life is Worth Living

Every day of living should be like one Thanksgiving feast,
The rising of your spirit should be higher than the sun in the east.

Not knowing how, but seeing the wind blow,
Through the trees, under hats, but visually nothing to show,

Its length, its height, its width, or its depth,
The wind is one of God’s prized possessions; I think that describes it best.

Feel the rays of the sun beaming down on one’s skin.
Its warmth is like the embrace of God after repentance for your sin.

I look up at the clouds and yet they look back at me.
I imagine them as animals, trees and cars, but then I wonder what do they see?

Is it peace, violence, love or is it war?
Or maybe they only see hurt and can sense when your heart is sore.

If so, I would say that they see life very clear.
Is it possible they know the exact time and date of our Lord’s coming? And, do they care?

With the wind surrounding them and their ability to block out the sun,
The clouds will be no more than carpet when my Jesus decides to come.

Who knows what life would be like if you could not experience these three,
Your soul would probably be dismal and dark and your spirits as low down as they could be.

But, if that were true, right now I would be under somebody’s shoe
Instead God’s will allows me to share my heart and give this point of view

With Jesus answering all of my calls, my soul doesn’t talk, it sings
Its melodies are worth hearing and a lot more inspiring than worldly things.

The foundation of my sight is my life being lived within the light.
Closed doors and walls won’t keep me from seeing my Trainer in this spiritual fight.

Peace & Love,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Redemption

Hotep,

Football season is here. I’m ecstatic about the results of our draft and free agent acquisitions. Now, anyone with a sports pulse knows that my veins bleed the midnight green of the Philadelphia Eagles. If you’ve read my Ball Til We Fall blog (http://www.balltilwefall.blogspot.com/) entitled “Becoming MannofStat” (6/28/10), you’d also know that I’m not a fan of our former quarterback, Donovan McNabb. Real Talk.

Now understand this people, I wasn’t one of the many fans who disapproved of the Eagles drafting McNabb just before the turn of the century, but the rollercoaster ride became unbearable after the 2005 Super Bowl loss. I could go on and on about this emotional body slam, but its much too depressing. That’s why I’m so excited about this upcoming season. McNabb playing for the Redskins should guarantee us two more wins. Ya heard?

As I write this, my Philly Birds are 1-1. Week one was a tough loss to a very good Green Bay Packers squad, but to witness Mike Vick make the most of his 2nd chance was exhilarating. Not from a fan perspective, but from the perspective of someone whose behind the wall and feeling like you’ll never get that 2nd chance. Because, the legal justice system has accommodated the views of a few to make you a pariah to many, eventually being stereotyped by many and trusted by a few. Na mean!

After the win against Detroit in week 2, Mike Vick was named the starting quarterback until further notice. It’s unfortunate that our projected starter , Kevin Kolb sustained a concussion in the 1st half of the Green Bay loss, but our offensive line is unsteady and Vick’s mobility gives us the best chance of winning right now.

I’ve been a fan of the Eagles as far back as I can remember, so as far as I’m concerned, there is no quarterback controversy. Whether it be Vick’s legs or Kolb’s pinpoint accuracy, winning should be the top priority. Because, my city and my team deserves to experience the euphoria of being the last team standing when the Lombardi trophy is presented in February. And, if Mike Vick is the starting quarterback hoisting that trophy amongst the celebrating fans, then that’s more power to the people. Because, giving someone a 2nd chance breeds new meaning to the term, “justice served.” Feel me?

Keep it 100

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Grey's Alter Anatomy

Hotep,

Last week was the much anticipated Grey’s Anatomy season premiere. Personally, I think it’s the best hospital drama show ever and I’m from the old school where the likes of “St. Elsewhere” (Denzel Washington), Trapper John, MD (The ever so lovely Madge Sinclair), and City of Angels (Blair Underwood) had viewers captivated from week to week. Na mean?

I applaud Ms. Shonda Rhimes, the show’s creator. The chemistry amongst the show’s characters leaves no room for boring moments. For example, one of the most memorable seasons of the show’s existence, was when Dr. Stevens literally killed the one true love she so deeply desired, to ensure he would be the recipient of the next available heart.

This particular episode hit me and my man Chino directly in the gut. Real recognize real. At that point, Dr. Stevens was ride or die, for sure! I’m feeling the show to the point where I thought about writing my own episode… with a death row twist, of course. I would introduce a new character to the show, Dr. Jalen Baxter. He’s an orthopedic surgeon who will team up with Dr. Torres.

All of the females in the hospital would be crazy about him. Dr. Torres even considers going straight just to get a shot at him. In the tradition of the other sexy male doctors (McDreamy, McSteamy and McYummy), the females nickname him “McMocha,” sweet, stimulating and addictive. LOL

Check out this storyline. Dr. Baxter’s first case is a death row prisoner who shredded his knee playing basketball. After several conversations leading up to the surgery, Dr. Baxter begins to see the human being within the death row prisoner. After repairing the prisoner’s knee, Dr. Baxter’s intrigue leads him to do a Google search of his latest patient. What he finds is shocking and life altering.

He realizes the knee he just repaired doesn’t belong to “the worst of the worst.” It’s the knee of a family man who made the ultimate sacrifice to protect his wife. Needless to say, Dr. Baxter becomes an avid supporter of the prisoner’s fight for freedom as well as an educator to the hospital staff, about the injustice concerning the death penalty. That’s what’s up!
Holla if ya hear me Ms. Rhimes. I’ve got much more in store. Word is bond!

Yo Chino! This one is for you Dunn

Be Easy,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

Love... its gonna getcha

Hotep,


A great poet once said, “That word love is very, very serious, and if you don’t watch out, it’s gonna getcha.”

In 1958, eighteen year old Mildred Loving, a black woman, professed her love to Richard Loving, by becoming his wife, happens every day, right? Well, there’s one minor detail I didn’t mention. Mr. Richard Loving was a white man and in 1958, interracial marriages were illegal in the state of Virginia. Real talk.

The state of Virginia rewarded the “Loving union” by banning the happy newlyweds from the commonwealth state. Now unless you’ve been asleep in a block of ice for the last 50 years, you know that the Lovings endured hordes of potentially violent situations founded on the ignorance of racism. Feel me?

Personally, I’ve known love on several different levels. I’ve literally given my life to the faces of death, in the name of love. “If you don’t watch out, it’s gonna getcha.” Ya heard?

I may not be what I should’ve been, but my people love me for who I am. The love they’ve shown me is contagious. “And, if you don’t watch out, it’s gonna getcha.” That’s what’s up!

One,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

Ladies 1st

Hotep,

This past Labor Day weekend, K97.5 FM paid homage to the old-school ladies of hip-hop. Salt-n-Pepa, Mc Lyte, Queen Latifah, Nikki-D and Ms. Lauryn Hill. A sweet scoop of some authentic hip-hop femininity. Ya heard?

These ladies were pioneers, not only because they mastered their craft, the art we know as 'MCing' and not only because they were sincere about their expression, never allowing success to dictate their messages to the masses. The fact that they did all of this as minorities in a male dominated industry brings true meaning to the term 'Ladies 1st.'

Andrea D. Lyon is a pioneer as well. Like the female MC's I just spoke of, she too, mastered her craft. She was sincere about her cause. Becoming a public defender at a time when women becoming attorneys was frowned upon. A minority in her own right, Andrea decided she was going to be a lawyer at the tender age of 15. The downside of the civil rights movement overwhelmed her with shame. She needed her fellow man to know that she was different from the people manning those fire hoses and brutally spraying young and old, men and women of African
American descent.

Ms. Lyon has tried more than 130 homicide cases. She has taken 19 capital cases through the
penalty phase and won all 19. This lady is known as the "Angel of Death Row." In her book,
"Angel of Death Row" (http://andrealyon.com/index.html) she acknowledges that first degree murder charges aren't always appropriate. She reveals that prosecutors will charge defendants with the highest level of offense, "The more a defendant has to risk by going to trial, the more likely he or she will cut a deal."

The visual of those fire hoses was never far from her memory. When she defended a client, she embraced her position of deflating those legal fire hoses and keeping the court in check. She interacted with her clients regularly, understanding them as human beings. She said, "How can I ask a jury to care about my client and his life if I don't. Sure, being human in this inhumane system comes with a cost. If you open yourself up to emotional involvement with your clients, the prospect of losing is frightening and the reality of losing hurts like he'll, but it's a price I am willing to pay. Or, maybe it's a price I don't know how not to pay." That's what's up!!

As a death row prisoner, I commend this lawyer for seeking justice before the eyes and ears of the unjust. A true craftsman of humanity, never intimidated by the pressures of society. As a human being, I'd like to thank Ms. Andrea D. Lyon for putting humanity before societal acceptance. Ya heard?

Live Well,

MannofStat
Copyright (c) 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

A Life Lesson in Appeals

Hotep,

I think reflection is essential to prosperity. Going through life trying to forget the past can be stressful. Personally I choose to embrace the past. All memories, good and bad play a part in preparing me today, for what I am to become in the future. Na mean?

I was living in Philly and a junior in high school when a person I'll call, John for the sake of privacy, was sentenced to die by a North Carolina jury. Twelve years later, I experienced a similar fate. John was one of the first cats to educate me on the appeals process. From July to December of 1997, I remained optimistic about my case under appeal, because I knew I wasn't guilty of the crime I was convicted of. I was still a virgin to state sanctioned executions.

John wasn't my best friend, but he was definitely someone I spoke with on a daily basis. Law, sports or women, the subject matter would vary. I had grown accustomed to John being around. John was given an execution date in mid-December of 1997. It was hard for me to talk to him about who was going to win the Superbowl, when I learned he wouldn't get a chance to see it.

He kept telling me that he wouldn't be executed . He said the state's protocol was to give him a date, because his attorney had missed a filing deadline. He said it so much that I thought he was in denial. Word is bond. The day before his scheduled execution, several officers came into D-block. They escorted John to his cell and commenced to packing his personal property in shipping bags. I felt helpless. John on the other hand, was at ease with the situation. I watched the C.O's stow his photo albums and transcripts without expression.

Before John left D-block, he gave me an unopened deck of cards, and an American Heritage dictionary. He told me I could keep the cards, but he instructed me to hold the dictionary until he came back. I was speechless. I thought, this cat is in a deep state of denial. Feel me?

Even though I really needed a dictionary, I was happy to give it back to John the following evening. It turns out John knew what he was talking about. He eventually got off of death row and is currently serving a life sentence.

As for me, I still have that deck of cards. A symbol of what I've experienced and a reflection that makes me a much better man. I haven't stopped writing since December of 1997. Ya heard?

Keep it 100,

MannofStat

Copyright (c) 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

"Sabotaging Ballistics Immensely": North Carolina's SBI is no "CSI"

Hotep,

Various sources are revealing inconsistencies within the State Bureau of Investigations’ (SBI) crime lab. One particular fire arms analyst in North Carolina is under scrutiny for doctoring evidence to corroborate investigating officer’s theories of how a crime may have occurred and who the perpetrator should be. Real talk.

Society has to ask: How many more forensic scientists are practicing this injustice?

Then you’d have to wonder: How many of these tainted cases resulted in death sentences?

Eventually you’d consider the racial justice factor: How many of these cases had white victims and black defendants? Feel me?

Without a doubt, the integrity of the SBI is suspect. The average juror has no idea what the credentials of an expert witness should be. So, when a SBI agent takes the stand in a capital case, the district attorney allows them to reel off their forensic credentials in a way in which the jurors are willing to believe anything the expert witness says.

The verbal resume of the expert witness may be so convincing that when the defense questions the credentials of an expert witness, the jurors may take offense, because they want to believe that this person on the stand is a straight forward expert witness. Na mean?

Well, being considered as an expert doesn’t mean that you’re always right and it doesn’t mean you’re always honest either. Ya heard?

Check out these stories:

(http://www.newsobserver.com/2010/08/15/629703/leaders-calling-for-sbi-cleanup.html)

(http://www.newsobserver.com/2010/08/19/635632/scathing-sbi-audit-says-230-cases.html)

Nuff Said,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

Minority Report

Hotep,


The Obama administration has been a giant step for minorities in this country. Our 44th president struggled with his identity, an absentee father, and poverty early in life. His success story, along with his strong family support system, is something all Americans should take pride in. President Obama’s pre-political predicaments allow him to relate to the plights of any minority in this country, poor whites, Latino immigrants and women without health insurance. Feel me?

With that said, allow me to introduce you to, let’s call him Juror X. He’s an elderly black man, who moved to North Carolina after giving 20 plus years of service to the state of New York as a corrections officer. Juror X endured some traumatic experiences as a corrections officer. Once, he was held at gunpoint while being removed from his car by former prisoners of a correctional facility where he worked, a unique circumstance, indeed.

But, what made Juror X unique to me was the fact that he was the only potential juror, of African American descent, that the district attorney would allow my defense counsel to question. For the record, I didn’t want Juror X on my jury. Real talk. But my lead counsel, who was a black man, told me this would probably be our only chance to get a person of color on the jury. So, I followed his advice.

Juror X didn’t bother to tell us about his life altering experiences as a corrections officer, harboring these images as he sat through hours of testimony and speculation about me allegedly kidnapping a white woman, and taking her car. Na mean?

Being the sole person of color on the jury, Juror X displayed highly intense emotions during the jury’s deliberations. When the jurors doubted my role as the perpetrator of this crime, Juror X educated them on his personal experience as a victim.

A juror’s duty is to view the evidence at hand. Not fill in the blanks. Juror X, a minority on my jury was able to sway the perception of certain jurors, by telling them about his kidnapping incident, an action that totally violates his duties as a juror and eventually sends me to death row.

The conclusion of this minority report is simple. President Obama is a man that all Americans can be proud of. As for Juror X, Well, let’s just say he’s a minority at the opposite end of the spectrum. Ya heard?

Nuff Said,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy E. Mann

Keep on Swinging

Hotep,

Inspiration can be obtained from the gravest of circumstances. I recently gained some inspiration when I read the sad story of Philly native and former WBC light heavy weight champ, Matthew Saad Muhammad. His bio is the epitome of having “a life full of acquaintances” (How many of us have them? Posted 7/5/10), a true rags to riches, to rags story, indeed.

Reigning atop the boxing world from 1979 until 1981, he pummeled opponents in pure pugilistic fashion, paving his road to the riches with a bright future on the horizon. Today, at age 56, he lives at the Ridge Center. The largest homeless shelter in Philly. He says he left that game with millions. His cheese was given away, stolen or spent on an entourage of 39 people/acquaintances. Holla if ya hear me “Iron”’ Mike Tyson.

Saad Muhammad (originally know as Matthew Franklin) was abandoned as a youngsta. Some Catholic nuns found him on the Ben Franklin Parkway. They named him Matthew, a tribute to the great writer of the first of the four gospels in the New Testament. His last name was a reminder of where he was found. Needless to say, the pride of a champ never dies. He’s been knocked down, but not out. He exhibits the spirit of a true Philly brawler, which is an inspiration in its own right. Na mean?

The champ is going to be alright, no doubt. I watched him fight in his heyday. Warriors like him just keep on swinging, in the ring or out, a true testament of a man’s character not being defined by how he handles the best of times, but how he responds to adversity in the darkest times. Feel me?

Saad Muhammad is only one half of this inspirational story. Jose Espinosa, a fellow resident at the Ridge Center, first told Muhammad’s story in a monthly newspaper called, “One Step Away.” Is it just me or does Jose sound like someone we know? A writer, down on his luck, but making the most of his situation. Using his gift to facilitate others in need of a morale ascension while informing the masses about good people who may have been eclipsed by a negative situation.

Keep pushing the pen Jose. Our ink is changing lives. That’s what’s up!

I’m out like a convict on parole.

One,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

My Kunta Kinte Thing

Hotep,

14 summers, the extent of Kobe ‘Bean” Bryant’s pro basketball career.

14 summers is an accurate timetable for an infant becoming a teenager.

I’ve been behind the wall for 14 summers, 13 of them on death row.

Before I went inside, the summer was my least favorite time of the year.

I mean, I enjoyed the perks of summer;

No school,

Six Flags Great Adventure,

Females dressed in less,

And, even my birthday, July 22nd.

But, the summer wasn’t my favorite season.

Well, after spending 14 summers in the box, that perspective has changed.

Word is bond.

It was 94 degrees today. I went into the sweltering heat and gave the Creator a 30 minute Kunta Kinte (running) exhibition.

For those youngstas out there who don’t know who Kunta Kinte was, pick up the dvd of Alex Haley’s epic story, ‘Roots: The Saga of an American Family.’

As much as I wanted to continue, the heat index wouldn’t allow much more. Na mean?

The Kunta Kinte thing just opens my mental, and gives me a new lease on life.

In fact, these words came to me, during that 30 minute run.

An open mind, clear lungs and a healthy heart keeps my focus clearer than your camera lens. Ya heard?

As much as I love the team concept of basketball, doing the Kunta Kinte thing gives me a greater sense of achievement. Real Talk.

You see, on the court, I’m always the point guard, facilitating my teammates and giving them the best opportunities to shine.

But, when I’m in Kunta Kinte mode, I’m the superstar. I’m the coach. I’m the team’s best 6th man.

I’m even the crowd that gives my valiant efforts a standing ovation. Feel me?

The last five minutes of every run, I envision myself running the Ben Franklin Parkway in Philly.

The Art Museum stairs are in my sights and my pace increases.

I ascend the Art Museum stairs in true “Rocky” fashion.

My run ends with me at the pinnacle of my existence, exhaling all negativity and inhaling the taste of victory. Ya heard?

A sense of victory and individual achievement is what the summer season offers me; an opportunity to stare down my environment from the pinnacle of my accomplishments.

14 summers in the box has cultivated the antidote for life outside of it. That’s what’s up!

One,

Mannofstat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

Samuel Family Ties

Hotep,

Seeing my parents is always a blessing.

Our visits are never wasted on idle conversations.

The chatty chicks from “The View” have nothing on us when we begin to explore the hot topics in the news.

But today, the 90 minute duration of our visit was spent appreciating what family really means.

I can’t imagine how life would be without my fam.

Somehow, some way, we all complement one another.

Each of us offers something the other needs.

Our family unity is like that of a bicycle.

At times, the spokes may become damaged or even break, but the wheel never stops spinning. Na mean?

This year our family reunion will be in Philly (August 13th thru 15th).

It coincides with my Pop’s birthday (8/15).

So they’re gonna do it big!

It crushes me to know that I won’t be able to partake in the festivities physically; seeing my cousins, hugging my aunts, politicking with my uncles and kissing the sweet face of my forever young Nana. Real talk.

I can’t make it this year, Samuel fam.

Hear my words and you’ll know that my heart is with you and my voice will forever be in your ear. Ya heard?

R.I.P Mr. Julius Samuel, aka Pop-Pop.

One Love,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

From The Row to the Streets

Hotep,

I take pride in where I’m from, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Now, don’t mistake pride for arrogance, but I really miss living in Philly.

That H-town tune comes to mind when I think of my city.

That classic joint “Emotions makes you cry sometime.”

Hearing those heartfelt lyrics brings back some great memories.

Like the first time I picked up a basketball,

Going to my first Sixers’ game,

Or, being 11 years old and meeting my first love.

These memories are the foundation of my youth, the blueprint of my being. Feel me?

My feet pounding the pavements of North Philly, is a feeling I long to experience again.

From the Row to the street, a dream Glenn Chapmen made a reality the day he left death row and spent the night at his family’s home. Real talk.

The storms of death row have been tumultuous.

Walking through the gates to freedom will be a much deserved relief.

But, coming in out of the storm doesn’t mean the rain has stopped.

It’s still there. You’ve just moved to a better place.

But, when the rain does stop, I’ll still be holding my umbrella, never forgetting what it all means.

Death row is not recognition, it’s not excitement and it damn sure ain’t no record label.

But all the same, the experience of death row is life altering, changing me forever and forcing me to understand that good people can be put in bad situations. Holla if you hear me Pac.

What does it all mean?

Death row means loneliness.

It means days and nights of dismal feelings.

It means redundant conversations founded on pessimism.

It means awaking to hardened hearts and falling asleep with hopes to awake no more. Feel me?

To my brothers who have recently reunited with their long awaited freedom, I applaud you.

You’ve opened the doors and your Mannofstat is coming through.

Remember, Worthy Opportunities Reveal Diligence

I’m out like Glenn Chapman

Be Easy,

Mannofstat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

Racial Justice?

Hotep,

Hip-hop has always been linked to violence. The tragic deaths of Biggie Small, Tupac Shakur and Big L have given some, who are not affiliated with hip-hop, the interpretation that anyone who picks up a microphone is willing to pull a trigger. Real talk.

In the early 90’s, I was a member of a promising hip-hop group. I was known as “Doc Terra” (Da Mann), in the underground hip-hop circuit. We rocked hip-hop clubs from North Philly to Brooklyn, but the high light of my short-lived career as an MC was autographing a promotional photo for my biggest fan. My “Nyse.”

“Nyse” embraced my hip-hop vocation from day one. To her, the photo was symbolic for her uncle’s success, but the state’s attorney saw this same promotional photo as a symbol of violence and used this symbol to intimidate jurors during my trial. Word is bond!

August 11th, 11:40pm marks the deadline for appellant attorneys to file motions on behalf of death row prisoners concerning the racial justice act (RJA). This may be good news for some, possibly great news for others, but for me the RJA is a mere stain on a system soaked in blood. Pursuing this issue is like reprimanding an airline pilot for drinking alcohol before a flight. If you still allow the pilot to fly the plane, the reprimand is futile. Na mean?

The racial justice argument should not be used as a last resort to spare the lives of death row prisoners. Appellant attorneys should not be content with getting their clients’ death sentences overturned to life without parole. Seeking racial justice is not standing for a life sentence.

I’ve been condemned to die for the last 13 years of my life. The state has murdered 35 prisoners in that timeframe. I’ve been subjected to the ritual of officers celebrating executions by having potluck dinners on execution night. So, I think my upcoming expression is warranted. Racial justice should start at the jury selection, not 13 years after you’re sentenced to die. Ya heard?

My jury consisted of 11 whites and 1black (the 2 alternate jurors were white as well). What type of racial justice do you think I received when the DA/pilot exhibited a promotional photo of me wearing a hoodie, standing in an alley to 13 whites and 1 elderly black man?

Bottom line: Racial justice for me is the state correcting their error of rushing to judgment. My image as a hip-hop artist should not have been an essential element in attaining a conviction for 1st degree murder. A new trial would be racial justice. Ya heard?

I’m the true underdog in this fight, but I’m not the first to step into the ring. I’m prepared to go the distance. I’m an MC, not a murderer. I am who I am and I still have the love of my number one fan. Holla if ya hear me “Nyse.”

One Love,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Sending Birthday Wishes to Leroy Mann (aka Lump)

Birthdays are the perfect time to look forward

…to the new memories that will be made

…new experiences that will be explored

…and new goals to be achieved

Keep your head up and your eyes focused

Happy Birthday Leroy!


“When you feel like giving up, remember why you held on for so long in the first place.”
Unknown


July 22, 2010 will be the 42nd birthday of Leroy Mann. As he celebrates his birthday for the 15th time behind the wall, we are asking his family, friends and supporters to send their prayers, words of encouragement or just birthday wishes. You can use the comments section below or his email address (word2themasses@yahoo.com). Your sentiments can be provided anonymously or you can let him know who is sending him the message.

We will collect comments until 5pm on Monday, July 19, 2010 and they will be forwarded to Leroy on his birthday. Those of you who visit him on a regular basis, he doesn't know we are doing this so please don't mention it to him. It will be a surprise.

How Many Of Us Have Them?

Hotep,

My peoples, it’s a blessing to be in your ear once more.

I’ve been granted this opportunity to breed a word, for thought, to the ears of the masses.

So move in a little closer, and hear me do what I do.

I won’t shout, but these words may get loud. Word is bond.

I came across some old school flix. No, not 10 or 15 years ago. I’m talking about 80’s old school.

The uncut, raw era of hip-hop. Run DMC, Kurtis Blow, LL Cool J, The Fat Boys and Whodini. The Real! Ya heard?

Fresh Fest 1 was my first encounter with the vintage verse: “Now you can look the word up again and again, but the dictionary doesn’t know the meaning of friends.” Yeah, XTC was breathing the truth when he spoke these words.

I had a lot of friends growing up. I came across many acquaintances who posed as friends, but real friends are forever. Na mean?

Rising to the occasion when everything ain’t so sweet.

At some point and time, everyone gets a chink in their armor, but a friend will help repair the damage.

Upgrading your feelings of discouragement and loneliness to optimism and relevancy. Feel me?

Life ain’t easy. Whether it be on the street or inside the box, but a life spent looking for friends produces a life full of acquaintances,

Which takes me back to Fresh Fest 1. The era of Kangols, Lee suits and sheepskin coats. Good memories, no doubt.

I can still hear Whodini blessing the mic. “And if you ask me, you know I couldn’t be much help because a friend is somebody you judge for yourself.” That’s what’s up!

Worthy Opportunities Reveal Diligence.

Nuff said,

Mannofstat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

Recognize the Real

Hotep,

I’m sure we’re all familiar with the cliché, “Things could be worse.”

In most cases, it’s just a convenient response to rationalize life’s pitfalls.

When I first came to the row, that cliché seemed to be the mantra amongst the prisoners.

I didn’t understand it at first.

I mean, I was like, “How can it get any worse than this?”

As time moved on, I delved into my inner being, grasping my spirituality as a means of learning my purpose in this realm of life.

That journey helped me to understand that things could be worse.

Like, enduring this death sentence without the support of my fam. That’s a scary thought, indeed.

My big brother, “D,” has been in my corner since day one.

He encouraged me to be a difference maker long before I got this death sentence.

Playing football as a youngsta, my big bro would be on the sidelines encouraging me to be the game changer.

He witnessed me catch my first touchdown and he was overwhelmed with pride when I dropped the hammer on the ball carrier on the ensuing kickoff. Real talk.

He gave me my first basketball, a Wilson.

He bought my first pair of leather kicks, red and white Converse (Dr. J’s).

He introduced me to the game, injecting me with a lifetime dosage of b-ball memories.

I’ve been in love with this game ever since I laid hands on that Wilson b-ball at 8 years of age.

My love for this game is what validates me as the MannofStat, a b-ball junkie who doesn’t mind sharing his fix with the masses.

Without “D” there would be no MannofStat. Na mean?

I recognize the real. “Things could be worse.”

I could’ve gone through life not knowing my big bro, not loving b-ball and never being encouraged to be a difference maker…an existence without purpose.

Well, I’m glad that I’m not that person.

Your MannofStat is here

Ain’t running nowhere,

Ain’t going nowhere,

Ain’t hiding nowhere. Ya heard?

With that said, you can call me concussion cause I’m out.

One love “D”

MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

Yeah, I Know What’s Up

Hotep,

During a recent visit with my parents, the topic of prison infractions came about.

Now, normally my parents do most of the talking during our visits.

I love listening to them talk about their lives as they enter their golden years. That’s what’s up.

But on this particular occasion, I was given the floor.

I seized this opportunity to expose some of the shady politics behind prison infractions.

My case is still under appeal and it would go against my better judgment to attempt to try my case in cyberspace, but I can spit some “actual factuals” about some of my prison infractions.

So, catch this people, your Mannofstat is about to exhale.

Merriam – Webster defines the term infraction as: The act of infringing: violation.

It says nothing about infractions being a measuring stick to judge a person’s character.

I mean, if a person is ticketed for doing 65mph in a 35mph zone,does that make them the most reckless individual ever? Not necessarily.

I served three years in the United States Navy.

I was honorably discharged with an infraction-free record.

Did that mean that I was a 4.0, squared away sailor? Not hardly.

In my 13 years on death row, I’ve accumulated approximately 15 infractions, give or take a few.

Most of my infractions happened after the ten dollar rule went into effect.

When they started charging ten dollars per infraction, it was no longer about keeping your nose clean.

It was moreso about when it was going to get dirty. Na mean?

e.g. An officer confiscated a birthday card during a random shakedown.

The card was given to me for my 40th birthday.

It was a drawing of a stripper giving me a lap dance. It was signed by several cats on the row. Harmless, right?

I was charged with possessing contraband ($10).

I was charged with disobeying a direct order because I wasn’t walking close enough to the wall on the left side of the hall ($10).

I caught a bargaining and trading charge because an officer saw me giving someone a coffee ($10).

That’s $30 people.

I could go on and on about some of the silly logic behind prison infractions.

The bottom line is:
The ten dollar rule is the state’s racket. Word is bond.

This is my first bid. I’ll tell you what I told my parents. Prison life is something I’ll never get used to.

To say it’s been a rough adjustment is an understatement.

I’ll never accept my placement here, but I will work hard to remain productive and continue to shed a positive light on others.

Hey, I have no problem admitting that some of my infractions were warranted.

Bad day, wrong officer, whatever, but in no way, shape or form does my infractions define who I am or the person that I’m able to become.

In time, the gravest infraction will come to light…me being sentenced to die. Ya heard?

So, yeah, I know what’s up

Holla if ya hear me.

Nuff said,

Mannofstat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

The Pride of a Father

Hotep,

Traditionally fathers are rarely given credit for watering their own seeds.

Providing for your offspring is just the natural duty of a dad, right?

Well, what about a dad that takes care of another man’s offspring as if they were his own? Does he deserve credit? Hold that thought…

I wanna say Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads. Those who are with us physically and those who have moved on, but allow their spirit to dwell within us.

I deeply appreciate the existence of my grandfather, the late Mr. Julius Samuel, aka, “Pop-Pop.” Your words, your love and your barbershop have left an everlasting impression on my life.

My son, Daveante, I love you more than the air that I breathe. I can’t begin to explain how proud I am to be a “G-Dad.” Thank you for my grandseed,Son.

And my Pops (Ed), I just wanna thank you for accepting me as your son. That’s what’s up!

It’s because of my Pops that I’ve never been able to embrace the term “step-parent.” Mainly because my Step-Pops has been my Dad since I was 5 years old.

My biological was tragically taken from me shortly after my 4th birthday.

I can still remember his last night in the realm we know as living.

The chaos…
The screams…
The tears…
Even the flashing red lights of the ambulance…

Much too complex for a 4 year old to ingest, right?

I now realize that I was called to do big things. Pain and suffering are just 2 of the many ingredients for the recipe that makes me Mannofstat.

You see, my Pops didn’t allow me to become a fatherless child. We’d go fishing, camping and I can’t count the many times we went to Six Flags’ Great Adventure.

But, his most memorable experience as my Dad was when we had breakfast with the legendary b-ball coach, Rollie Massimino.

It was a father/son banquet sponsored by my high school. Rollie was the guest speaker. My Pops still remembers Rollie’s speech. Real talk.

My most memorable experience as his son was when I saw a tear in his eye at my graduation from Navy bootcamp. The pride of a father was evident.

When he comes to see me, I can still see that pride, the pride of knowing that his son will not allow concrete and steel to define my being. Feel me?

I am driven by the Creator, but no matter where my journey leads, my father’s pride will always be with me. I’ve never had a “Step-Father,” only Pops.

One Love,

Mannofstat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

Responding to 'Anonymous'

Hotep,

I received an anonymous comment from a viewer who showed some concern about the humane rights of the victims of death row prisoners.

Anonymous said...
Humane? I can't help but ask did the victims of these death row inmates have a humane death? Why should we care if they have a humane death or not?

April 21, 2010 9:09 AM

Well “Anonymous,” I can only speak for myself. If my family member or loved one was murdered, I’d be very angry, but I wouldn’t be so blind with rage that “any justice” would do.

I would want the state to honestly prove beyond a reasonable doubt that this person is responsible for my loved one’s murder.

A grand performance by the district attorney and a gang of circumstantial evidence alone wouldn’t put my doubts to rest.

If the state’s attorney convinced me that this person killed my loved one, I’d have to believe that they are the worst of the worst before I would condone an execution.

You see ‘Anonymous,’ executions don’t sit well with me. Not because I’m on death row, but because over the centuries people have been executed for a lot less than murder and some of those unfortunate souls were executed merely because someone didn’t approve of the color of their skin.

That still stands true today ‘Anonymous.’ I know it’s difficult to see through all of the murk and mire the media has cast upon death row prisoners across the board, but hear my voice Anonymous and people of all races, shapes and religions. I am the bridge between first time offender and death row prisoner.

I am Mannofstat, a voice after the event has occurred. A statistic tells the story for those, who were unable, to witness the happenings. In some cases, a statistic can relieve doubts and grant confidence to those who are in need of a moral ascension. Stat is short for statistic.

So here I am, Mannofstat, engulfed in legalities and doing what I do live and direct from death row.

Sure enough my back is against the wall, but capitulation is not an option.

I’m a living example of what is wrong with our justice system. I am the antidote for recidivism. I only need on second chance. Ya heard?

‘Anonymous,’ thank you for your honesty. I’m sure your views are shared by many.

This blog is your forum to speak openly. As the Mannofstat, my mission is to be a facilitator to the masses. So, I am more than willing to shed some light on your darkness. Feel me?

Until next time, holla if you hear me.

Be Easy,

Mannofstat.
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

Focused on Productivity

Hotep,

My Peoples. It’s a blessing to be in your ear once more. All glory be to the Creator for allowing my homegirl Chelle to be the headphones that carry my voice.

You’re doing your thing Ma and doing it well. No doubt.

A couple of months ago I received some emails from friends that I hadn’t heard from in a minute. It was good to know that my peoples haven’t given up on life.

We can’t change poor decisions we may have made in the past, but we can most definitely remain focused on the great things to come. Ya heard?

Each day inside this box, my focus is on productivity. If I’m not eating, sleeping or working out, I’m doing my best to be productive, making a positive difference in a negative situation.

My friends and family have played a major role in the positive direction my life seems to be going into.

As you may or may not know, North Carolina’s Death Row has a basketball tournament every year.

I just released the 2010 All-World Squad. This year’s basketball tournament will be starting in the next couple of months.

The posting of the All-World Squad always ignites the fire within the ballers.

In tribute to that inner fire, I’m calling this season, “Bringing the Heat.”

We have a new logo. I released it with the All-World Squad posting. It’s a silhouette of a famous baller, who revolutionized basketball as we know it, surrounded by the words, “Bringing the Heat.”

I figured it was more than appropriate due to the fact that death row basketball is revolutionary in itself. Ya heard?

In connection with this year’s tournament, I will be launching a new blog called, “Ball Til We Fall” (http://balltilwefall.blogspot.com/) where true basketball fiends can witness the raw unadulterated play of death row b-ball.

So, stayed tuned for the new blog and pass this on to all of the basketball fiends you know.

A couple of months ago Sharon made a comment on my first post, the“Basement” piece. I want her and everyone in the blogosphere to know that my focus will always be on the door at the top of the stairs. I love you for your input Sharon. Thank you so much for hearing me.

Thanks for the encouraging words Kizzy. Stay tuned for more Cuz. Give me a chance to dry those tears. Keep reading. My diligence will soon bring a smile to your heart. Feel me?

In conclusion, I wanna thank my homegirls from Northern Liberties who recently reached out to me through email. Welcome back to my life. Let’s keep the lines open. Ya heard?

One,

Mannofstat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

American Idle

Hotep,

I really enjoy watching American Idol. I think the show is inspirational and encourages us to believe that if you put your mind to it, anything is possible. The show also reveals a deeply rooted sense of diligence in some of its contestants. These particular contestants have convinced me that the best way to become an idol is to not be idle. Feel me?

The show has launched the successful careers of Jennifer Hudson, Daughtry, Jordan Sparks, Fantasia, Carrie Underwood, Kelly Clarkson and my man Reuben Studdard. But let’s turn our idol-ridden minds to some good old “blind justice,” taking place in North Carolina’s basement. (By the way, I’m riding with Crystal this season. The girl has got skillz. Ya heard?)

Michael C. Hayes went on a random shooting spree in 1988. He shot thirteen people, killing four. One was a 16 year old girl whom he shot five times. In 1989 he was found not guilty by reason of insanity. Medical experts testified that he was drunk and high on illegal drugs. They also testified that his killing spree was a mission from God, to rid the world of demons. Real talk.

He’s been living at Dorthea Dix Mental Institution for two decades. He’s been allowed off the grounds of the mental institution without supervision for years. He fathered two children while in state custody. Some legal minds have referred to him as a “political prisoner.” Wow!

According to the medical experts, Michael hasn’t been prescribed any antipsychotic medication since 1989. He was just released from Dorthea Dix Mental Institution and will be living with his girlfriend, a former Dix patient and the mother of his two children. “Blind Justice,”indeed. Check out the Wikipedia on Hayes and let me know what you think? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Hayes_(spree_killer)

This is the same state that will sentence a man to death on circumstantial evidence and faulty instructions, by a judge concerning, “acting in concert.” Na mean?

This is America. So, in no way, shape, or form am I hating on second chances granted to anyone. My problem is with the lawmakers tipping the scales of justice for selective cases. In the meantime, they label me as “the worst of the worst” and expect me to be idle while it all goes down. Well, that’s not about to happen. Believe that!

Holla if ya hear me,

Mannofstat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

Real Life Heroes

Hotep,

Iron Man is back on the set. The long awaited sequel is attracting hordes of superhuman enthusiasts to the box office as you read this.

Now, to some extent, I think we’d all like to experience the superhuman capabilities of a superhero.

I mean, who never wished they could fly like Superman or travel the city like Spiderman jumping from building to building without the fear of falling? Holla if ya hear me.

I know I’m not the only one who has ever had that thought.

Fictional heroes can be entertaining, no doubt, but real life heroes are never forgotten.

e.g.: My older sister was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1999. It was a frightening time for our fam.

My situation was a devastating blow to our family chain, but my sister’s diagnosis hit me harder than the judge saying, “May God have mercy on your soul," when I was sentenced to death.

1 in 3 women will be diagnosed with cancer in the US and 50% of cancer cases are prevented by early detection.

I was deeply moved when I read an article about a 4 year old girl, Alex Scott, who was selling lemonade to help cancer victims like her. This little hero died at the tender age of 8 in 2004.

Some former Eagles’ cheerleaders have come together to bring awareness to breast cancer.

The cheerleader alums recently participated in the ‘Susan G. Komen Philly Race for the Cure.” They’ve entitled this display of unity, “Ra-Ras for the Ta-Tas,” self-explanatory, indeed.

Mrs. Ann Grant, the grandmother of my homie, “Big Dogg,” is battling some strenuous circumstances concerning breast cancer.

In these troublesome times, we have to be reminded that faith the size of a mustard seed can move any mountain.

My big sis is living proof of that. I see her regularly and she is an inspiration to me and all of those around her.

So, keep your eyes on the prize Mrs. Grant, the prayers of your family and those close to your family, do not fall on deaf ears.

My big sis and other cancer survivors display an undying will to fight, making them Invincible in the face of adversity.

Their long term accomplishments are nothing short of Incredible and the obstacles they had to overcome makes their progression an amazing feat, ya heard?

Being a hero doesn’t have to be a fantasy. It’s a reachable goal, predicated on self improvement, and the ability to touch the lives of the people around you.

The art of heroism is not a discriminatory practice. Word is bond.

Cancer does not have to be a walking death sentence. Daily exercise, proper diet and regular testing can add many years to your existence, making you a hero for the ages. Na mean?

One Love,
Mannofstat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann

The Creator's Plan

Hotep,

The day of April 12, 2010 ended on a high note for me.

Now, considering my current situation, that may sound like an oxymoron to most of you in the blogosphere.

But, April 12, 2010 marks the day that the writing of my first novel was finished.

“Concrete Seeds: The Sowing Volume 1,” is an expression of love, hate, rage and pain.

In so many ways, this novel is my entire being, my life’s work in a nut shell.

Finalizing this project that I’ve worked on for years, leaves me with a monumental sense of achievement. Na mean?

I’m familiar with this sense of achievement;

The birth of my son, whose now 21 years old, (What’s up Daveante?)

The pitter-patter of my grandseed’s feet, stomping into this world 18 months ago, (What it do Lil’ Mann G-dad loves you),

Were monumental achievements in my life as well.

And let me tell you, the seed of a Mann is a beautiful thing. Word is bond!

But, this novel has a beauty of its own.

Writing it taught me that tragedy doesn’t always have to be an ending.

It can also be a beginning.

And, if it is a beginning, the remainder of your existence can evolve into a beautiful life story of accomplishment. Feel me?

I hate being in prison.

And trust me, I say that wearing a frown.

But, I’m beginning to see it as the manifestation of the Creator’s plan.

You may choose your path, but you will become what the Creator intended you to be. Na mean?

For me, understanding the Creator’s plan has been a lifelong journey.

Growing up in North Philly, my plan was to get a basketball scholarship to Georgetown University,

Becoming a 4-time All-American and a 2-time National Player of the Year.

My plan also had me graduating with a 3.8 GPA and a degree in journalism, but obviously that wasn’t the Creator’s plan.

My plan was to be the no. 1 pick in the 1990 NBA draft,

Having a prolific career playing point for my beloved Sixers (who could really use my wet jumper and ankle aching cross-over right about now),

I planned on teaming up with the great ‘Sir Charles’ and bringing championships back to my city.

The pinnacle of my existence would’ve been watching my number 44 being hoisted into the rafters of the Wachovia Center, joining the greats before me (Wilt, Billy C, Doc, Bobby Jones, and Barkley).

You see, my plan was to be the savior to my city’s championship woes.

But again, that wasn’t the Creator’s plan. Feel me?

My current placement is on death row.

No b-ball scholarship

No college degree

No NBA championships

Most definitely not my plan.

But, through divine intervention, I have a voice.

A voice that gives me the opportunity to be a Q-Tip to the ears of the masses.

Worthy Opportunities Reveal Diligence

The conclusion is simple. The Creator’s plan is for you Mannofstat to be all in your ear.

That’s what’s up!!

Be Easy,
Mannofstat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann