Business…this week’s column entry is on Kanye West’s burgeoning gospel career…sorta. Also, next week the column begins running on Fridays, and it will be running weekly, so now you can find it without me shamelessly promoting it. No, that does not mean I will stop the shameless self-promotion. Honestly, I have no idea what shame is.
***

Okay, I’ve had enough…
It’s well-known I’m a fan of The Boondocks, and I’ve been fortunate enough to do two interviews with Aaron McGruder (this one two years ago, and this one from last year). After the most recent one, I was treated to a flood of mail from readers that continues to this day, and for that I’m thankful.
Sorta.
See, it seems that doing a doing with A-Dub makes you his manager. Every time I think someone’s gonna tell me something about my insightful questions or that this was the best interview they’d seen since Malcolm’s joint in Playboy, it’s really just someone asking me for his e-mail address, phone number, blood type, anything.
This must cease.
Look here…I ain’t got it. The one time I was in a room with him was for ten minutes, and we didn’t get that cool (that’s another story for another day).
So, at the risk of losing cool points, Aaron Mcgruder isn’t my boy. I don’t know him. We don’t hang. He wouldn’t speak to me on the street. If I called his house, the call would be traced, and I’d be writing this from the cyber cafe in the pokey. The best I can do is direct you people that want him for speeches to APB Speakers and tell you to speak with Flip Porter or suggest you go to www.ucomics.com and register to have the strip sent to you by e-mail.
That’s all I got for you. No more toying with my ego, man. I get too much hate mail to get faked out like this. I’m fragile, man.
Like delicate china, just with a fouler mouth and an ornery disposition.
But if you’re here because you loved the interviews, Baba loves you, too, baby!
***
Mugabe weighed in recently on Bush, Blair, and Iraq. Though fairly simple, he makes a good point about the hypocritical way “human rights” are used as a political tool. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to get his act right. But, check the report…fully going into Mugabe would require about 3,000 words and a month to get it just right.
***
I‘m Bomani, and I’m a fantasy football addict.
I have reduced athletes to numbers on a score sheet, and I obsessively check ESPN.com to see what numbers my players have put up. Don’t need a game recap…just the stats. Could be the greatest game ever…but if Adam Vinatieri doesn’t drill a 40 yard field goal, my day is ruined.
This is all bad.
But see, I’m also one of those people that only picks up players he likes to be on the squad. It’s debatable whether you can both win and do that, and that may compel me to quit doing this. It’s kind of like picking your Final Four bracket. You wind up in conflicts between your heart and your brain, particularly if your brain put money on the thing.
In the Final Four, nothing is worse than when I admit that the Dookies are actually good–which they always are, and that’s further affirmation that there is a Devil–pick them to get to the championship, only to have them lose early. I swallow all the hatred I have for that blasted program, and then they lose. So even when they lose, they hurt me.
Last football season, I wound up hoping that Oklahoma (my mother’s undergraduate institution and my sworn enemy as a member of the Longhorn Nation) would win the Big 12 so that UT could get into a BCS bowl. So what does OU do? Not only did they get mollywopped in the Tweezy Championship, they still played for the title.
And then they lost to LSU, which is like Barry Goldwater beating George Bush in the general election. No good either way.
And all the way, it was all bad for me.
So, I try to avoid such situations. Luckily, there are enough jokers in the NFL that I like that make it possible to avoid such things.
And yes, I have most country, hood team in FFL history. Vick at QB (a native of Bad News, VA), Moss at receiver, the Edge at RB, Baltimore’s defense (with Deion, Killa Ray, and others that are too much for words), Laverneaus Coles (who still goes by the childhood nickname “Trouble”), and others that seem like the kinda cats I’d run with in real life.
Save for Moss…he don’t know to leave the contraband at home…and if you bring it, don’t hit a meter maid with your car.
And Edgerrin James, who spends a little too much time around rock stars, and I ain’t talkin’ about the kind that play guitar.
But let any of ’em slip…sworn enemies, every last one of ’em.
And yes, this is a clear sign I need more to do with my life.
***
And the question I leave you with…am I the only one that kinda misses non-threatening Negroes on the radio? Can somebody break out the denim shirts and visors? Fake thuggin’ is killin me.
Almost enough to want to see Boyz II Men…and no, I can’t believe I said that. They haven’t been dope since track 6 on their first album…thirteen years ago.
Yes, you’re old. And I will be soon.
***
And the song of the week…Language Arts’ “Bulls Up.”
Don’t know about it? You will…trust me.