Neighborhood Associations

I am recovering tonight from having attended a 'hood association meeting last evening.

I'm serious. It's something I never would have done as a single guy - 'cause I lived in a downtown apartment building and really didn't give a crap who my neighbors were or how they behaved, as long as it wasn't criminally dangerous and didn't disturb me when I was at home.

But now, married, kid on the way, etc., I'm thinking peace and quiet and property values. And so, Mrs. B does not have to twist my arm very hard to get me to attend these meetings. Still, I hate them.

When I attend, I am Jekyll. I try to sit and listen quietly and not frown too much and keep my arms uncrossed, 'cause I know that's a gesture that suggests tension and defensiveness. But my Hyde, the reporter in me, inevitably fights his way out. And I find myself biting my lip and my tongue and anything else that will prevent me from speaking up and scoffing at some bad excuse for weak city services or booing some piss poor explanation to why police need to study speeders, before actually arresting them.

I know the association means well. I know the police and code enforcement officers who attend the meetings mean well. The fact is, in the two years since we bought a home in this neighborhood they've done a lot to keep the triflin' among us in line...except for the guy who owns the place next to me. He needs a good kick in the coin purse. And my 12.5 boots are aching to "serve the community."

But anyway, last night at the meeting, one of the police officers pissed me off so badly I was bouncing off the wall.

I live in a neighborhood in flux, a mix of single family homes occupied by middle- (me) and upper middle-class (not me) couples and families - some blue collar, some white collar, and condos and apartment buildings of various quality, most occupied by singles...of various quality. It's in a good location though. Huge condo towers are going up that even if ugly, in my opinion, will push property values up at a slightly faster pace. We walk the four blocks from our house to the heart of downtown all the time, for dinners, drinks, tunes, etc. There's a beautiful park in the heart of downtown, a couple of art galleries, and so on, and so forth. I'm told that 10 years ago, long before we moved to Florida anyone with good sense avoided downtown in my city, 'cause it was like nighttime in the movie Omega Man: only the creepies came out at night. Addicts, dealers, pimps, and hos (real hos, not college basketball players as imagined by talk radio show hosts). And it wasn't a pretty scene. Well, things have changed. Downtown is a thriving nightlife zone, w/high end restaurants, lots of traffic, nice places, nice people, etc.

The addicts and hos though? Some of 'em are still around, mostly bothering people who live on the other end of our neighborhood. There were people at the association meeting who live on the other end who said prostitutes have approached them on the sidewalk. Addicts have wandered into their yards. I see the occasional addict and ho when they stray south and are on their way somewhere (I have no idea where). But luckily I haven't had to plant my boot on the behind of anyone who didn't belong in my front yard or anyone skulking around my block. I realize this is South Florida, and hos - real, professional hos - are everywhere. But c'mom! Would some politician propose a hozone already, perhaps somewhere near all the hotels where conventions take place?

Anyway, during last night's meeting the neighborhood resource officer stands up to reassure folks, and tell them that he's sorry but there's really nothing officers can do about the hos unless officers catch the hos in the act with Johns. After all, the sidewalks are public, right? And there's due process through the law. You can't just yank a ho off the sidewalk for doing the stroll back and forth, right? This is the argument the resource officer makes. It just wouldn't be right to roust people for just "hanging out" and walking around.

If that had been my first association meeting, I might have bought that line. But it wasn't my first. And I didn't just fall off the back of the yam wagon. Neither did Mrs. B. She quickly pointed out something curious. Less than five blocks from our neighborhood, on the other side of a major thoroughfare, is an upscale neighborhood. If our 'hood is middle class, this 'hood across the street ranges from waaaay upper middle class to seriously upscale. The homes over there go for anywhere from $500,000 to several million dollars each.

But here's the curious thing: they have no hos strollin' their side of the street. I swear. We walk our dog in our 'hood and their hood. We drive through and past their 'hood on the way to the beach, a mile or so from our house. We drive through and past their 'hood on the way to nights out or to the grocery. No hos.

What gives?

The stupid side of me says there must be an invisible force field up around our 'hood that compels the hos like ghosts trapped in a haunted house to wander the streets of my neighborhood...for the rest of their lives. And if they stray even 10 feet outside the boundaries of my 'hood their 8-inch pumps and sequined skorts will burst into flames and the hos will turn to dust.

The cynical side of me says that the cop was being disingenuous. Could it be that people in the upscale 'hood who pay more property taxes a few blocks away put their collective foot down and told the cops to get rid of the hos? And could it be the police complied and chased the hos out?

C'mon, hos just stroll our neighborhood, but have no interest at all in walking much wider streets, with much brighter lights, and slightly more lush lawns just a few blocks away? Right.

And yet, the association did nothing. But what could it do - demand the same ho-control plan the folks in the upscale 'hood have? Progress is happening. But that cop - very nice guy - was full of...disillusionment.

Sidewalks are public? Fine. As a "favor" to my northern neighbors, I'm gonna spend the rest of the weekend placing directional signs on every corner in the northern part of my 'hood pointing Southeast and bearing written instructions to the hos on where to find the most comfortable, easy-on-the-bunions sidewalks to stroll in the upscale 'hood.

Now, if you'll excuse me I'm gonna take a non-ho stroll to my kitchen, where I plan to retrieve a can of James-brand champagne and toast the great tradition of suspects' rights, while working on my great American novel.

A reminder about words

So I'm watching a debate on Hannity and Colmes on FNC between the Rev. Al Sharpton and Harvey Levin of TMZ.com.

Sharpton is upset that TMZ.com, in poking fun of singer Beyonce Knowles' gold-colored, robotic-looking outfit from the recent BET Awards, referred to the outfit as a "robo-ho" outfit.

Sharpton says that all jokes aside, TMZ.com shouldn't have called Beyonce any sort of "ho."

There are plenty of real ho's out there who deserve the label. I'm not just talking females. I have buddies I call hos. They know it. Sure, I speak in jest. But I mean it when I call them that. Why? They're promiscuous.

Harvey Levin says Sharpton should lighten up. He says that it isn't a matter of TMZ.com thinking Beyonce is a "ho" or a "whore" or a "prostitute." It's just a joke.

I don't often agree with the Rev. on anything. But I think he might be right in this case.

On the one hand TMZ.com backpedaled on the site and suggested the use of the word "ho" is wrong in any case. On the other hand, Levin says it was OK to call Beyonce's outfit ho-ish because the site has also called Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, and Lindsay Lohan, among others, hos for their alleged promiscuous behavior. Sharpton agreed with the Web site on one thing: that "ho" shouldn't be used in any case.

So if the standard TMZ.com uses for doling out the label "ho," is one based on ladylike vs. promiscuous behavior, then Sharpton was right to object to the Web site's using it in reference to Beyonce. She does not have a promiscuous reputation as do the young women Levin referenced in defense of the word.

I have to confess I read/watch items on TMZ.com regularly. I don't recall them calling singer Kylie Minogue a ho or her outfit ho-ish, when she began a concert last year in a similar sexy, robotic get-up.

Where both TMZ.com and Sharpton are wrong is in saying that "ho" should never be used. Once again, such a declaration takes us dangerously close to censorship for the sake of sparing everyone's feelings.

They don't need to be concerned about sparing everyone's feelings. They need to be concerned about not lumping groups of people together with slang and labels. It's the same place Imus got himself in trouble.

If he'd watched a documentary film the night before he went on the air that fateful morning that featured interviews with prostitutes and then mentioned on the air that the film was full of hos I don't think he'd have gotten himself in so much hot water. Instead he called apparently decent young women hos and that pissed people off.

Language lesson of the day: don't be afraid to critique, criticize, or analyze. But when you do, if you want to avoid grief make sure the adjective you use to describe your subject is accurate, or be prepared to demonstrate that you were just joking.

Moral of the day: It is true we all need to lighten up again. When people become so afraid of offending that they steer clear of jokes, even racy jokes, then we widen the fissures between different cultural and social groups. And that's the last thing we need in this country right now.

The Say Whatever the Hell You Want Club: Meeting Two

I motion we begin this meeting. And I second that motion.

So here's the deal: tonight we're booing the recent announcement by hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons that he's seeking the ban of three words in the clean/radio versions of rap albums: the N-word, bitch, and ho.

The words are bad, sure. But a ban will not fix anything. And to the pundits who applaud Simmons for being brave, you guys are gullible, and I'd like to sell you a bridge....and a swamp....I mean a hot tub.

This move, if it happens will not clean up rap lyrics. It will give consumers and radio stations the option to buy/play so-called radio edits that don't contain those three words. Correct me if I'm wrong though, but those three words have been self-censored by radio stations for years now. As far back as the early '90s I recall hearing the N-word and all manner of swears bleeped out during radio play. Nobody wants to be hassled by the FCC. So few stations are stupid enough to let those words slip onto the air. Again, it's been that way for years. This new proposed ban is helpful how?

Asking that three words get banned isn't brave. Sorta brave would be asking the artists to stop using the words in their lyrics. But that's a hollow request. It's like asking Saddam to show us his weapon(s) of mass destruction. Sounds great in a speech, but if he'd had the weapon(s) he would never have shown 'em voluntarily.

Besides, if these guys insist that they're simply telling the story of the streets on which they were raised, then maybe they really did see lots of hos and drug dealing and death and destruction. If that's the fact-based fiction you want to listen to, knock yourself out. Even Ann Coulter suggested that a rapper's use of "ho" probably really is in reference to the woman shopping her wares on the corner opposite the drug dealer, not, say, the college basketball player. But I digress.

Brave would be raising kids to have self respect so they wouldn't want to use certain words to describe themselves and their peers.

Brave would also be asking the parents of the kids buying this music and attending the concerts to grow a set and tell their kids "no!" No, you're not buying that album. No, you can't listen to it in your room. No, you're not going to that concert. No!

I was a teenager. I realize that just saying no can be futile. It damned sure didn't work to curb drug use in the '80s (and neither did those this-fried-egg-is-your-brain-on-drugs commercials). But let's see a little effort, and let's put the burden for these words where it squarely belongs: on the consumers who eat it up.

Yeah, yeah, artists/performers/celebrities all have responsibility, roll models, yadda yadda, to whom much is given, etc., etc.

But the truth is in this country the market takes what the market can bear. For example, we all gripe about the obscene salaries pro athletes make, but then we pack out arenas and stadiums and pay big bucks for tickets and pinkie-sized hotdogs and $6 thimble-sized beers. When we all get tired of it and stop paying, sporting event prices will fall, and athlete salaries will drop....and we'll still be miserable with our daily routines. But that's another story.

As for music with naughty words, when we figure out a way to convince young'ns that it isn't cool they'll stop listening. When they stop listening record labels will stop paying top dollar for it. Advertisers will stop sponsoring concert tours.

But I got news for ya: that'll never happen! Your great great grandparents couldn't stop your great grandparents from listening to whatever was bad in their day. Your great grandparents couldn't stop your grandparents from listening to whatever was bad in their day. Your grandparents couldn't stop your parents from listening to rock'n'roll, and so on and so forth.

Best you can do is teach your kids some good sense, some good manners, some good morals, and some taste. And if a couple of those things stick, they'll probably find profane music distasteful all on their own. I listened to it in spite of my parents' best efforts. I thought stupid songs about the lore of the streets were cool. I mostly bobbed my head to the beats. And then I grew up. Occasionally I still bob my head to those beats. But I'm grown now. That music means nothing.

Banning words in rap is a very, very bad idea.

If you like that idea, don't be smug. Any of you into porn? That's rhetorical. I don't really want to know. But if you are, how would you like to find out that a small group of anti-porn activists will now limit you to viewing "clean" versions of your favorite skin flick?

Do not support word bans!

Now, let's bring this meeting to a close. Please excuse me, while I go pour some gin and juice and ponder why big pimpin' requires spendin' cheese.