Gallows of Skepticism

I have no problem admitting that I tend to be skeptical whenever a group dynamic is presented, and I am invited to partake.  I guess this would be considered my defense mechanism to impede the potential distractions that collide with the theory of interdependence.  

North Philly is the urban subculture that taught me the difference between “Bullshitters” (actors), and those who can smell their stench (perceivers) a mile away.  I consider myself one of the latter.

From 1991-1994, I was a respected MC in the underground hip-hop circuit.  DOC TERRA (me) was one third of a three-man crew known as the CONCRETE CHILDREN.  Our independent label was call, Products of the Urban Streets (P.O.T.U.S.).  We promoted this label by selling t-shirts, posting fliers, and “rockin’ the mic” from North Philly to Brooklyn, NY.

We once shared the same stage with the Notorious B.I.G. and Mic Geronimo.  We were on our way.  So close to a recording deal, but individual interests began to conflict with the mutual understanding of achieving success as a collective unit.

Approximately one year prior to everything falling apart, my instincts told me that individualism would sink our music careers into the depths of chasing the unattainable dream.  A single person’s selfish actions changed the course of three lives.  Now, none of us have a record deal, only the memories of the best thing that never happened; a cautionary tale.

When I first came to this class, I saw my current circumstance to be very similar to my days as a member of the CONCRETE CHILDREN.  The furtherance of programs made available to death row prisoners will require a collective effort to defeat the stigma of being “the worst of the worst.” This alliance is not necessarily synonymous with friendships, however it is the embodiment of the interdependence theory, and has no room for the prior scars stemming from group association.

I can only hope that my optimism for the best outcome – concerning these programs – is not a direct result of the endowment effect.  I take great pride in my capabilities to facilitate; therefore I have a tendency to see beyond what is expected.  For me, commitment is synonymous with success.  But, at the end of the day, the “actors” still play a part in this equation.

Someone once told me,

“no matter what the circumstance, the cream

will always rise to the top.”

I conclude with this:

My skepticism instinctively hangs another individual’s character, but I could just as easily be hanging myself by allowing the taint of incredulousness to detach me from productive communal functions.

Keeping it 100,

MannofStat

Copyright (c) 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Capital Entertainment: the cognitive dissonance of humanity

A man promulgates his firm position on pro-life, yet he chooses to murder a doctor for performing abortions.

A person who professes Christianity is deeply opposed to the practices of justice in Middle Eastern countries – where Muslims are the vast majority.  However, they will quote scripture from the Bible – hissing, “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a hand for a hand, and a foot for a foot,” Exodus 21:24, in support of capital punishment on American soil.

Life seems to be a merry-go-round of hypocrisy for the human species.  Theoretically, we stand at the top of the social animal food chain.  Does this give us the authority to encage, domesticate and showcase other social animals that we deem as inferior?

A little while ago, the legendary Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus announced that they

would retire elephants from the center ring of “entertainment.”

This entails a residential upgrade to a 200-acre “conservation” enclosure, which is owned by the same ringmasters of death defying feats, human paradox of conserving life as a form of entertainment.

For years, animal rights activists have made it their business to speak on behalf of the voiceless pachyderm.  The brutality and mistreatment of these fellow mammals leads one to believe that social animal hierarchy is a direct contrast to moral principle.  Just how far would we go for the sake of “entertainment?”

When these enormous, majestic mammals stand on their hind legs, or perfect a pirouette without the slightest hint of dizziness, we humans convince ourselves the elephants enjoy our manmade spotlight.  When all the while, the elephant is simply replaying a nightmarish reality - over and over again – in its head.

Decades and billions worth of revenue dollars later, the ringmasters decide to exercise humanity by “retiring” the ever-so-grateful elephants.  Well, what about the tigers, bears and show ponies?  The price of “entertainment” is extremely costly for any animal under the human umbrella of THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH.

Disturbingly enough, the capital punishment discussion bears a similar tone.  Many death row sympathizers are under the impression that North Carolina’s 10-year de facto moratorium favors the prisoners whose lives are being held in abeyance.  

Some might even argue that this is humanity coming to the forefront.  Maybe this would hold true if that degree of humanity did not hold a sentence of life without the possibility of parole over the heads of the many mammals residing here that have fallen prey to injustice.

Capital punishment is a form of “entertainment” where humans kill other humans after a prolonged showcase of litigable grandstanding.  It is a circus of justice that makes a mockery of the “ringmasters” who choose to believe their business of death dealing is an appropriate display of social supremacy.

Much like the elephants, death row prisoners will always have their fair share of support from

humanitarians, but how many lifetimes away are we from seeing the cognitive dissonance of considering ourselves as the socially dominant species?

MannofStat

Copyright © 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Answering Service

More rounds are fired and Black Lives are lost.  It’s a job well done, but we must take a firm position as troubleshooters.  Should we argue gun control?  Hell nah.  We don’t need the 44^th president putting his black hands all over that again.  Let’s just drop the flag of confederacy from its staff and proclaim we want to wipe the slate clean.  Then we’ll suggest we should all hold hands and strike multiple centuries of African American enslavement from the hearts and minds of the oppressed…

We Want Answers! We Want Answers!

It is your freedom to fly the confederate flag.  No problem.  But, flying that flag while you call me a NIGGER entails seeing and feeling the stars and stripes of my struggle.  The rocket’s red glare and bombs bursting in air will be much more than the mere words of a patriotic song.  I’ll put my hand over my heart and pledge to that…

We Want Answers!  We Want Answers!

Blacks are consumed by compassion.  They’re empathetic creatures, always looking for someone to forgive.  Hell, they’ll turn the other cheek; lift every voice and sing Kumba Yah, while our batons swing like helicopter propellers, and boots crash into their bodies with the velocity of an oppressor’s anvil delivered by a slingshot.  They’ll get over it.  They always do.  They refuse to face the truth, so we will simply tell them what they want to hear.

We Want Answers!  We Want Answers!

Comfortable silence to avoid uncomfortable truths about the disease of racism adds new meaning to, “Having the right to remain silent.” Racism is transcended through the genes of millennial babies.  In this modern day of transgender and “transracial” freedom, the societal acceptance of interracial and gay marriages, and a time when any person is permitted to sit at the front of the bus, a 21 year old spewing and acting on racial hatred is simply unleashing the barbaric truths within the elders that nurture them.

Church bombings and public lynchings are the blueprints of a Dylann Roof – style mass murder and racially tainted practice of jurisprudence.  Why will you not understand that your beautiful brown faces are no more than a statistic to the same people you’re demanding answers from?  Your existence, or demise is merely the movement of a decimal point in their eyes.

Now there’s your answer.  What will you do with the truth?

Still Livin,’

MannofStat

Copyright © 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Criminal

Yo, C.O.,

I can’t remember when I stopped acknowledging your last name and you became the state drone known as, C.O. to me.  Maybe it was the first time you handed my mail to someone other than myself – as if it didn’t matter that my loved one’s words were written for me.  You just couldn’t see their words being my lifeline; the difference between me being civilized, and you feeling threatened.

Tell me C.O., how would the rest of your day go if something as intimately delicate as a scribe from the grandchild you have yet to meet were placed in the ‘care’ of someone you don’t really care for?  It’s only mail, right?

You have to understand that your place of work cages people that have been convicted of criminal acts.  Some are mentally ill with the potential for violence.  Why would you want to do anything to agitate such a volatile environment?  I will never forget the way you badgered Henry Hunt about having too much property. 

You were even brazen to the point of calling him a ‘pack rat’ mere weeks before his scheduled execution.  The tears in his eyes had everything to do with his resentment for you, C.O.  You really have a way with people.

I loathe the day that ‘Old Man King’ and I observed your colleagues showering you with congratulatory gestures when you were promoted to lieutenant.  All the while, we struggled to breathe in a nearby holding cell that reeked of urine.  I can still hear ‘Old Man King’ cussing your existence as the laughs and handshakes seemed to be unending.  You do remember James King, right?

If you do, you’d probably think he should be grateful for your immediate response to the sounds of 15 men kicking on the cell doors, and yelling to get your attention while the old-timer suffered his second stroke, in the wee hours of the morning.  

We can’t deny that you got him to the hospital in time to save his life.  But every day after, he required the assistance of a walker, cane, or a wheelchair.  He eventually lost the lower half of his right leg due to complications with diabetes. But, you know this all too well.  Don’t you C.O?

I mean, it was you who single – handedly confiscated his walking cane years later because his medical paperwork expired. That was some spectacle you put on that day, C.O.  I just can’t get the image of you leaving the block, and twirling his cane like some sort of drum major out of my head. Would you consider that to be one of the finer moments in your decorated career?

There was numerous times your excessive authority led to me paying a $10 fine.  When the state began charging $10 per infraction, it was no longer about keeping my nose clean.  On your watch it was more so about when it would get dirty.  I can still see you sitting where only I sleep – rummaging through my most personal letters – searching for anything that might qualify me for a stay in the cage.

So you confiscated a drawing of a stripper giving me a lap dance.  It was signed by several cats on the row, and given to me as a birthday card.  You decided to write it up as, “an inmate possessing pornographic material.”  Contraband; $10.  It is clear to me that you obviously have no regard for a Mann clinging to life.  As if capital punishment wasn’t unjust enough, I find your oppressive actions to be criminal.

If nothing, I said has resonated with you then please know this:

Within these walls, the broken hearts of people who make a living, just by staying alive, will always outnumber you.  You on the other hand, come here to make a living.

A person should wear the uniform – not the other way around.  A person would not allow themselves to be defined by the utility belt, pepper spray, and retractable baton.  The person is someone who helps.  They acknowledge it is not their place to inflict further punishment on men/women already condemned to die.

Then we have you, C.O.  A serviceable drone programmed to bark commands, push carts, dump trash, and feed the ‘criminals’ that make you feel better about yourself.  You just don’t realize the only difference between your 12 hour shift and my residency is; living creates jobs.

We all bear a uniform that complies with the prison plantation dress ordinance.  A clear reflection of what is criminal.

R.I.P., Henry Hunt (Executed 9/12/03) and James King (Expired 8/1/13)

MannofStat

Copyright © 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann