Those moments

Pop quiz: Is it possible for you to say or do something and not be that something? Can you have a moment in which you are wrong that doesn't define you?

I bought a box of six generic, Krispy Kreme-like doughnuts over the weekend from my local grocery. Against my common sense and Mrs. B's protestations, I scarfed down every one of those sugary heart disease boosters in just two-and-a-half days. Does that make me an icing addict, a doughnut fiend? Man, I hope not, 'cause I only eat that stupidly every now and then.

But I asked the quiz question 'cause I'm sitting here watching Duane "Dog" Chapman on Hannity and Colmes explaining that the N-word never meant to him what it does to other people, that just as many black guys use it in the context of camaraderie, he meant it in a "brotherly fashion."

Hmmm. I know gay guys who call each other the F-word. If I see two men walking down the street holding hands - an obvious couple - I can't approach them, smile, and blurt out, "What's up, my (F-word)s!" I mean, I could say it. There's no law stopping me. But I have no desire to do something like that. It would be stupid. It could be mean. And common sense would prevent me from doing it, anyway.

Whatever the case, I like to think I'm a pretty reasonable guy. And my friends will tell you that I'm a sucker to a fault for what appears to be a heartfelt apology.

So back to my question. Based on my own experiences over the years with a lots of different people who live by lots of different philosophies, I think the answer is yes...with a couple of exceptions.

If, for example, you occasionally go to a party and someone offers you weed and you try it, that does not make you a marijuana addict or even a user, as "user" is defined in casual conversation. It makes you a periodic risk taker. And if your employer has the right to make you randomly pee in a cup, it makes you an idiot.

I once was at a hockey game with a bunch of managers from a newspaper where I used to work. They had taken me and several other younger reporters to watch the game from the company's luxury box 'cause we were all such arse-kicking writing machines. I kid. We were all wet behind the ears. But the bosses appreciated our rookie effort and decided to reward us. So at the end of the hockey match the WWE set up a wrestling ring on the ice for a 30 minute demo showcase of some of the league's new talent. One of their gimmicks was to have Saved by the Bell alum Dustin Diamond grapple with a real wrestler. I'm told that I was a "little" toasty by the end of the hockey game and that I spent about 10 minutes heckling Diamond by yelling Screech jokes at him from the box. Did that rant make me in need of AA? Nope. It made me feel like a fool at work the next day, after which I went right back to my "habit" of moderation.

Under these mundane examples, I'm convinced that in order to be something your relative behavior must be habitual.

And then there are the exceptions, extremes where one time'll sink ya: Murder someone, and the I-only-did-it-once defense won't get you off the hook. Beat your wife, and the I-only-did-it-once explanation won't get you off the hook.

So, Chapman's mea culpa is over now. I'm still not sure what to think. He says he's sorry. Who am I to question that? Even so, at what point do we tell folks their apologies are accepted, but they must still pay some price? If, as a child my parents let me slide every time I said sorry, I'd have made out like a bandit. I would never have "served" one day of grounding in my bedroom with no comic book or tune or telephone privileges. And I'd never have gotten several memorable smacks on the behind. Punishment does have a purpose.

Chapman also reiterated that he has so many black friends who have used the N-word around him that he's always felt he had "honorary" status that allowed him to use it too, as a friendly greeting.

I could buy that, in theory. Except that his taped conversation was not about friendly greetings. It was an expression of anger. If he really disapproved of his son's girlfriend's character, he could have called her anything, anything at all, crooked, shady, sneaky, vile, skankish, etc., but he chose to use that word. And that word, in a critical, lashing context is about a skin color, a race, nothing friendly. And that's where Chapman hurt himself.

Finally, as this show ends, I feel a little sorry for Dog. Shame on him for using this word in such anger and for not having good sense enough to know not to use it at all. Hell, even when I used to use it way back when to greet black male friends, I never, ever, ever, ever, let it be overheard. That sort of caution is what helped convince me to eventually ditch the word: If I had to be ashamed of it in mixed company I didn't need to be uttering it, regardless of context, I figured. Anyway, shame on Chapman's crackhead kid for selling him out to a tabloid for $15,000. And shame on us all that in 2007 in this country, we still haven't worked "it" out.

I hope Dog finds the peace and forgiveness he's looking for. And I hope we all take his situation as a reminder that no matter how cool or insulated we think we are, some things just aren't cool to say.

Oh, and a programming note to Fox News Channel: Since you guys are in such a forgiving mood for racially charged "slips of the tongue" and angry outbursts, are you going to give an hour long interview to former National Basketball Association star Tim Hardaway? I hear he's seeking redemption too, after being blacklisted and socially excommunicated earlier this year for a sexual orientation bias-charged rant. Hardaway said in a radio interview last spring that he hated gay people and that he didn't think homosexuals belonged in the NBA. C'mon FOX. Prove you're not hypocrites. Put Hardaway on the air...unless, of course, you think he's being a phony in his I-had-a-brain-fart, I-was-just-being-an-idiot explanations.

Mysteries of Life

Every now and then I encounter a few of these. And even though none of them involve trying to split the atom, they always leave me genuinely baffled.

Why, for example, do I continue to try to offer explanations with apologies when I have annoyed Mrs. B? No, seriously. I have learned from great men, much older, presumably wiser, and longer married than me that anything beyond "sorry" will be construed as arguing from your wife. And arguing is always a losing proposition for a husband, even if it's usually over how many ice cubes one of you requested or which turn to make during a road trip in which you have no paper map. If you're wrong and admit as much you are inadvertently fueling the I-knew-he-was-an-idiot fire. If you're right and you say as much, you are lording it over her in a nah-nah-nah-nah-nah sort of way. If you had no clue that you did anything wrong and you try to explain as much, you "doth protest too much." And if you had no clue and are silent about it, then you're pouting. I should listen to you old guys. I think there might really be something to the concept of always conceding guilt when the issue is minor, swallowing whatever pride acccompanies that grudging admission, and moving on.

Speaking of moving on, I was watching a TV newscast earlier and the reporter was in a predominantly black urban neighborhood, a neighborhood I happen to be familiar with in a city I happen to be familiar with. It's funny, 'cause this is something Mrs. B and I were discussing casually over the weekend in relation to another story. Anyway, at one point in her brief report the TV reporter found a local to interview. The guy she found? That dude. That dude with the Afro pick sticking out of his hair and the peanut butter and jelly stains on his t-shirt. That dude with a crucial tooth or two missing, and one hand planted firmly on his twig'n'berries. That dude who finished every sentence with "nahmean?" Standing next to that dude? Another black man in pressed trousers, pressed shirt, combed hair, most of his teeth, etc. How do TV news reporters always find that dude when they need a neighborhood resident to talk? What, the guy who looked together didn't fit the preplanned direction you needed your story to take? It's not a race thing. I've seen it in rural, predominantly white towns too- 20 houses on a block, 19 of them firmly rooted to the ground and occupied by people who don't fit appearance stereotypes, and the resident the reporter seeks out is the one whose house could be stolen by someone driving a strong enough truck with a chain and a tow bar, whose Afro pick is a Confederate bandanna, whose "nahmean" is "boy howdy," and whose t-shirt bears the very same PBJ stains. It's like there's a "bad representative magnet" on those TV cameras.

And finally there's the gossip. I have a friendly acquaintance - and that's all I'll say about this person, so as not to give away how/where I know them from, keeping in mind that I play and work in a lot of different places around a lot of different people - who has what I believe to be a genetic disorder: this person cannot help but repeat everything they're told, no matter how inconsequential or how serious. New information eats a hole in this person's jaw. If we were still fighting the Cold War, the CIA could make great inroads in the former U.S.S.R. by whispering a false state secret to this person and giving them a one-way plane ticket to Moscow. And yet, knowing all of this, on those rare occasions when I find myself alone with this person I still say things to them. I don't know why. I should say hello and keep moving. But I don't. I make conversation or at least respond to the conversation they make. It's like feeling obligated after a while to try to make small talk with the security guard you see coming into work every morning. You know that, like you, he just wants to do his job and go home. He probably doesn't give two craps about your take on last night's game. He probably doesn't care how many times your kid made it on base during the weekend's little league game. And he definitely doesn't care what your wife is making for dinner tonight. And yet you talk to him, 'cause it's the nice thing to do. And he smiles back at you and nods patiently at your stories, 'cause it's the nice thing to do. In a twisted sort of way I feel like I have to say something, anything to the gossip when I bump into that person. I really need to learn the art of small talk. I can carry on a great lengthy conversation, I think. I'm bad at small, throw-away talk though. If I was better at it I could talk about the weather or water temperature at the beach with the gossiper and they would never get any ammo from me. I'm a gossip enabler. I'm seeking help.

OK, I'm outta here like Don Cornelius. I have work-for-money to do.

Till tomorrow, my friends.

Sorry, can't fire Don Imus

Sheesh la frickin' weeze, man. Enough already with Imus.

For the record, let me say that as the son, brother, cousin, nephew, etc., etc. of a host of black women, calling a group of black women "nappy-headed hos" is not good PR. It is not nice. It is not healthy. It is dumb, and mean, and racist on so many levels.

I can tell you that if I had used that phrase in reference to a group of black women, those to whom I'm related would have beaten me like I stole something.

But, as offensive as Imus' comment was, you can't fire him.

Why? Because we're all hypocrites. There is no consistency in this country when it comes to what we "allow" to outrage us.

Don Imus is a shock jock. For 30-plus years on the radio he has taken shots at everyone - white, black, Asian, and Latino, skinny, fat, apparently smart, apparently dumb, and so on and so forth.

And throughout most of his career, Imus, like other shock jocks, has occasionally said something that pushed or crossed the lines of comfort, even in the realm of dark humor.

But he's never been asked to resign. No one ever seriously considered firing him. And that's because his employers were making butt-loads of money on his show and his fans laughed with him, albeit nervously in some cases.

Look, I'm a firm believer in accepting apologies. But even I know that "oops, my bad" has a limited shelf life.

Still, only now, when it's popular to say "oops," and enter rehab or something, do we want to start firing people for saying stupid, mean, offensive things.

Should anybody be fired for stepping over this sort of line? Yes. Elected officials? Fire 'em. Military commanders? Fire 'em. Clergy? Fire 'em. Ambassadors? Fire 'em.

Those are all people entrusted with caring for people. Shock jocks are not entrusted with anything but our attention during morning rush hour. Neither are comedians, who also routinely say mean-spirited things about all sorts of people.

Don Imus is like the cad who meets the nice girl and talks his way in. But instead of telling him up front that he has to change his ways before the relationship can proceed, she nurtures his bad behavior and even encourages it, just so she can keep him. And then suddenly, after years like this, she tells him he's bad and has to go. Naturally the boyfriend is shocked. He wants to know what he did wrong and what he did that she didn't like. The answer is nothing, according to the standards she set for him.

In this case though, the collective girlfriend is the radio network owners, MSNBC, the pundits calling for his dismissal, and some of the general public. No one is shocked. Imus has been talking like this for years. Every now and then he's received a scolding. He's said oops. And the show has gone on.

Now, folks want to get serious with him and say, "OK, now we want you gone?"

Every time a public figure with a massive audience says something racist/sexist/whatever-ist hold them to an even standard. Otherwise, leave 'em alone and let 'em all say whatever they want.

Anyway, I can't take serious the Rev. Jesse Jackson's call for Imus to be fired. Jackson once referred to New York City as "Hymie Town," a racist reference to the city's large Jewish population. Jackson was given a second chance. He was allowed to explain himself. And after his apologies he was allowed to keep on keepin' on. So what can't Imus apologize, feel stupid, and move past it?

What if the public and Jackson's civic "sponsors" and spiritual "donors" had decided he should be cut off back then - no more big money speeches on college campuses, no book deals, no consulting fees or whatever you want to call them? He'd be up the creek without a paddle today.

Going after a radio shock jock doesn't impress me.

You want to impress me? Then gather Jackson, and all the other people who want to Imus fired and hold a protest outside the offices of every major record distributor and protest the albums on which every third or fourth word is bitch or ho and often in reference to black women. Protest those albums and threaten the record labels and distributors with boycotts if they don't stop making/selling that music.

That won't happen though, because we would all gasp and say "But that's hampering free speech! That's interfering with the creation of art, and hindering the creative process!"

So if people can get a pass under the mantle of art, - as in "Hey, I don't really feel that way. I was just being artistic!" - then radio shock jocks should get a pass too.

Don Imus is a doddering old fool. But he's demonstrated that for a long time, with lots of applause. Firing him now only proves one thing: that his employers and former fans are fair weather and willing to turn on him when it's the popular thing to do.

If the folks who want Imus fired are serious, then I call for a two year grace period in which every idiot who gets paid to talk for a living is given a chance to adjust to the public's delicate sensibilities.

If they act up after that, fire 'em all and kick 'em where the good Lord split 'em as they walk out the door.

In the mean time, don't act shocked by the actions of shock jocks. They call 'em that for a reason.

Three of the most useful words of the past two decades

After two ragged days, in which I got things wrong, pissed people off, and got pissed off by other people I'm finding myself pining for a better day.

I miss the good old days when an innocent mistake could be solved with a simple, "Oops, my bad!"

Seriously, I remember when you could scuff someone's shoe. And even though that person would get angry, if you could muster a quick, sincere "oops, my bad" it defused the situation.

I remember when someone could cut you off in traffic. And even though you wanted to tear 'em a new one, if they made the universal gesture of peace and humility - the smiling half shrug/half wave - you felt a (sometimes grudging) flood of calm. You still frowned, but you let it slide and lost your bluster.

I remember when you could: forget to hold the door open for someone behind you, over dry and shrink your girfriend's favorite blouse, accidentally tape over your boyfriend's favorite boxing match, bump someone with your grocery cart, make a well-intended but false accusation, or spill coffee on a co-worker, and you could just say "oops, my bad!" And all you had to do was really mean it. And that was enough. It may not have fixed your mistake, but it soothed the person you wounded.

How many times might some international incident, the result of some cultural or political misunderstanding, have been solved if one or both parties had practiced the spirit of "oops, my bad?"

Righteous indignation, sudden defensiveness? They're diseases. They thrive in an atmosphere where those three words are never uttered.

Sorry, this post is longer than I intended...oops, my bad!