EVERYDAY HOT MIC MOMENTS
Saturday Night Live couldn't have produced a more outrageous skit: A media savvy Civil Rights icon, on the set of a conservative talk show, whispers into a hot mic, saying-of all things-that he wants to castrate Barack Obama, historic presidential candidate and the first brown son of Camelot.
Jesse L. Jackson's hot mic debacle is a wakeup call for all of us to realize that privacy is a thing of the past; a mere fallacy of a time long before the Internet superhighway-that has since been affixed with police street cams.
And everyday drivers on the roads with camera phones in tow.
And cars outfitted with cameras to take digital pictures of your neighborhood for the internet street maps. (One couple is suing now.)
And telephone companies that have agreed to wiretap your home phone for the purpose of homeland security.
Winners & Losers
The only group of people (outside of law enforcement) set to benefit from this widespread, peek-a-boo, hot mic society is stalkers.
Stalkers, accustomed to researching your whereabouts for weeks, can now find your ass with a click of a mouse. If they know your everyday routine, they can hack the street cams and download the streaming video of you minding your own business. They can even venture to certain street map directories to monitor how your new landscape project is coming along.
And they can do all of this without leaving the comfort of their mother's basement.
(Or the jailhouse library).
Conversely, poor Mrs. Jenkins, your local neighborhood gossip who peers out her front window (apparently in eight-hour shifts), has become obsolete. She is no longer the bastion of hot gossip about who's making love to your old lady while you're at work.
Hell, if your old lady ran a red light, or was speeding, the street cam has taken a time-stamped picture of her license plate and the police will mail that ticket (along with a picture of her and her passenger), to your home.
Mrs. Jenkins doesn't get the opportunity to utter a word.
Watch your mouth
The hot mic is a public figure's worst nightmare and a hungry reporter's wet dream.
This raw, unflinching ear witness displays who you really are and what you really are about when you think no one else can hear you.
The hot mic-only to be upstaged by the hidden video cam-can deconstruct a Teflon reputation in a matter of sound bites. There's no defense against the hot mic's evidence; you can't claim that you were misquoted, or that your words were taken out of context. Or that it wasn't you who did the dirty deed.
These days, virtually everything you say or do is within earshot of a hot mic.
And the only way to avoid an embarrassing hot mic moment is to be on your best behavior at all times while in public-or stay home.
And while at home, you may want to refrain from answering your phone.
HOW NOT TO STICK IT TO "THE MAN"
Every blue moon you may receive a stroke of good luck, aka a "ghetto blessing" that comes just when you need it.
An example of a ghetto blessing is finding a crumpled up $20 bill in your jeans. You didn't expect it, but there it is-$20-and suddenly you have a little pep in your step for the rest of the day.
But the shady folks among us prefer to will a ghetto blessing into existence by "sticking it to The Man."
For the well-heeled readers, "The Man" is not a man, but rather, the establishment; the boss; the one who is in control of your daily life in some manner.
Sticking it to "The Man" is the ultimate con that requires great skill, impeccable timing and a flawless execution. In fact, when you are sticking it, so to speak, "The Man" is not supposed to notice it. (FYI: I have never personally stuck it, but I have heard tales of success, that dare not be repeated without implicating my very own great-grandma. And my favorite aunt.)
In any event, the past week was filled with news items about shady people who were very unsuccessful or just plain dumb at sticking it to The Man.
Here are my worst six "man stickers" or as I'd like to call them,
The Shady 6, Con-Man Hall of Shame:
6. The con: Courtesy Cappuccino. The Man: Starbucks
The inflated costs of everyday living is causing some of us to grow bold-disturbingly bold-about getting what we want for free.
Take Daytona Beach Lt. Major Garvin, a 15-year veteran of the force. This officer demanded free coffee, (not cheap black coffee, but Starbucks' super-whipped, mocha, double-shot expensive stuff!) for free, sometimes, six times a night! Even worse, he would cut the line. Finally, when the management balked, Lt. Garvin made it clear that he'd be slower to respond to their calls of distress if they didn't give him his free coffee.
He was fired last week.
5. The con: Rent-free living. The Man: Mini-Me
Verne Troyer, Mini-Me from the Austin Powers franchise, is getting the shaft from his ex-girlfriend, (the woman who made a sex tape with him and put it online), actress Ranae Shrider. Ms. Shrider is beating the mortgage crisis by refusing to move out of Mini Me's house. She told him to get a lawyer. He is now suing to evict her.
4. The con: Free gas. The Man: Indiana Department of Transportation
Hoosier Helpers, an arm of the Indiana Department of Transportation, voluntarily assist stranded motorists at no charge. Now that the gas prices have shot up, many "stranded motorists" have become repeat callers. Typical routine of IDOT: A motorist runs out of gas on his way to work, he calls the Hoosier Helpers for a free gallon, and then he runs out of gas on his way from work and he calls Hoosier Helpers for a free gallon... and so it goes.
3. The con: Free lunch. The Man: The service industry.
Remember the sitcom Sanford & Son, how Fred would grab his chest and feign a heart attack whenever Lamont or Aunt Esther got on his nerves? Well, someone has taken that shtick a bit further. In Waukesha Wisconsin, a healthy 52-year-old man took a cab to the mall. Just as he arrived, the man rolled out the back seat with a heart attack. The cab driver left the scene, unpaid. Then this same man had a feast at Applebee's. As soon as the bill arrived, the man rolled out of his chair and had a heart attack. He didn't pay for his meal, but the manager sent him to the hospital. The ER doctor recognized the man from other so-called heart attacks around town.
2. The con: Party like a Rock Star! The Man: Rock Star David Lee Roth
Someone had told David Kuntz of Ontario that he resembled Van Halen front man David Lee Roth, and Kuntz decided to ride that compliment all the way to the bank.
The David Lee Roth imposter was living the good life as the aging, yet still popular rock star, with fawning fans, free drinks, VIP-treatment at the Ontario clubs, and he even performed with the house band!
But his rock star life came to a screeching halt when Kuntz was pulled over by two policemen for speeding. The impostor told police he was David Lee Roth, and he would have beaten the ticket, except the real David Lee Roth was in New York performing on that very night. Oops.
1. The con: Robbery. The Man: A pizza joint-and an innocent family member.
And now we've reached the lowest of the low.
Stephanie Martinez was hard at work when a thief crashed her workplace. A courageous coworker thwarted the robber by pummeling him, causing the thief to lose his disguise.
The thief was Stephanie's own father.
Even worse, her mother and husband were in the getaway car!
Stephanie was completely innocent according to authorities and had no idea that her family was stopping by her workplace to rob it.
The moral of these crime stories: Eventually those who practice sticking it to "The Man" are bound to get stuck.
email me at: zondrahughes@yahoo.com
BLACK IN AMERICA: A TALE OF TWO FACES
So forty years after the death of Dr. Martin Luther King, a nationwide, televised event about being "Black in America" hit the airwaves on CNN.
When it comes to a special report, everything in a newsroom begins and ends with time; and airdates are either determined by deadlines, or historic anniversaries--or sometimes, something more calculating.
Ask yourself, did we have to air this program now-the very week that brother Barack was touring the world?
Think about it for a moment.
Just as the international stage was welcoming brother Barack with a hero's embrace, our sister Soledad was shining the light on the problems of us black people back at home.
Hmm. And Sister Soledad brought in some heavy guns to tell the world how we took two steps forward and four steps back.
It was us-the best of us, the worst of us, the wealthiest of us and the most disenfranchised of us-participating in our own unattractive unveiling.
We tell the world that we don't take care of our children.
And that our men don't want us.
And that we are lazy and shiftless or overworked and underemployed.
And that we have no connection to our roots.
And that our future is bleak.
And yada, yada, yada, yada.
And it was us on the other side of the camera, emailing and blogging and encouraging us to watch this madness about us, just as our first real hope for a Black world leader was taking the world stage.
Don't get me wrong, I was emailing friends, too, and I do believe that our story should be told.
But timing is everything. And after seeing the beautiful images of a black man being welcomed and respected by international heads, I realized that now was not the time for airing Black In America.
