"La Reconquista!" Is In Full Effect!

Villaraigosa's victory in L.A. was 15 to 25 years in the making, bruh. Latino activists have been working towards this goal and other electoral gains since the late 1970s, if not beyond. I know, because I encountered and funded a number of them back in my days in the “wonderful world of philanthropy.” We're talking about an army of grassroots organizers, statisticians and demographers, poltical scientists and sociologists, and, of course, attorneys -- all down for the cause of Latino empowerment. The genesis of this movement began with the effort to organize farmworkers during the 1960s. Remember Cesar Chavez, and "Boycott Lettuce," Grapes, or whatever was your produce of choice?

Then in the 1970s, a man named Willie Velasquez took the torch and applied lessons, tactics learned during time spent in the South with SCLC, SNCC and other black suffrage groups and lead Latinos into the electoral arena. Velasquez died at a relatively young age (in his late 40s, I believe) and you don't hear much about him because he toiled in obscurity in the Southwest U.S. In voting rights circles, however, he was considered a visionary and was revered by Latinos, Afros and Anglos alike. Unlike some in "our community," Velasquez didn't buy into the "messiah" syndrome, and believed totally in the concept of building a movement. For a parallel among African-Anerican activists, think of Bob Moses and Septima Clark. Like them Velasquez, tutored and trained scores, if not hundreds of activists (especially Latino activists), who have gone on to fight the good-fight.

There is one key point that must remember in comparing Black and Latino activism -- that is, basically what we are really discoursing on here. There's one factor that explains why Black "progress" has seemingly petered out, while Latino momentum continues onward. It's not the relative youth of the movement, and it’s not about the natural progression of blacks into the so-called middle class. It's really about one thing and one thing only: It's the land! Call it Aztlan, call it "Califas," call it whatever you want -- it is all about reclaiming their "homeland."

Ponder that notion for a moment. . . . "reclaiming their homeland." It's a powerful and unifying concept, when you think about it, and it will take more than a few government jobs, some set-aside contracts, and more than few mansions and yachts to quell the momentum.

I think back to my undergraduate years at Stanford . . . and think about some of the Mexican-American students, (that's basically, who we're talking about here) and what they were about. They possessed "groundedness" that comes from being "home." Action not talk. More about substance, than image. Sure Casa Zapata had its share of loudmouth “militants” and poseurs, but by and large most of them carried themselves with a sense of mission. I'm not talking about any grand schemes or designs either, just simply taking care of business. That's essentially the underlying sentiment of El Presidente Fox's comments last week, huh?

But I digress. . . . Anyway back to Willie Velasquez and the Mayor-elect of LA. . . .

The progeny of Velasquez recognized that in order for Latino (Mexican) empowerment to occur, they needed to address the conundrum that is immigration. For Blacks in American, the cross to bear is slavery; for Mexicans it’s "the Border" . . . and immigration. (Check out John Sayles' movie "Lone Star" sometime for some thought-provoking entertainment and commentary on the issue.) People have been traveling back and forth across the border for years, since . . . oh, the 1840s. And people really didn't give its much thought because the "wetbacks" never really settled that far 50-100 miles into the U.S. interior.

Now fast-forward to the mid-20th Century with the Braceros program, when "Big Agriculture" needed workers to tend their super farms. Since slavery was abolished with about 70 years earlier, this country's historic pool of low-cost labor no longer existed. So they went down to Mexico, recruited them some able-bodied men and put 'em to work in the fields. No bennies, no rights, just a few dollars to send back to village. Nothing more, nothing less. It worked with the Chinese and the railroads, a century earlier. Why wouldn't it work this time? The only problem was that there wasn't a big huge ocean to prevent these workers from going back home to fetch their families. The only thing between the Mexican conscripts and home was a little spit of water known as the Rio Grande. So one thing led to another. . . and they settled in the States. No citizenship, no rights. . . just a job and a beachhead to a better life.

People really didn't notice until the late 1970s, when huge Mexican enclaves began springing up in places like Southeast Chicago, and Grand Rapids Michigan. The Mexican activist community -- Velasquez's progeny -- knew the time, and began organizing in these far reaches of the U.S. Policymakers in D.C., began to take notice as well, and began talking about immigration "reform." Eventually, they realized that they couldn’t send all the "illegals" back so they came up with the Simpson-Mazzoli Act of 1986, and set up the amnesty process, an accelerated six-year naturalization process, that ultimately would yield upwards of 10 million voters.

While working in the “wonderful world of philanthropy,” the thing that impressed me about the Latino activists that I dealt with was their technical and tactical sophistication. I recall back in 1991 or 1992 while attending a workshop on redistricting sponsored by the Lawyer's Committee on Civil Rights in New Orleans, hanging out in the lobby of the Fairmont hotel waiting in the lobby for my line-brother Will to pick me up, and marveling at the contrasting MO’s of the Latino and black activists? . . . Well put simply, the brothers from the NAACP, Urban League, etc. were simply there for the party. Most of them didn't give me the time of day until they found out I was from a foundation. It was like some of them were simply there on a scouting trip for the Essence Music Festival. No substance whatsoever. Meanwhile, the reps from the Latino groups (MALDEF, SWVREP, etc.) were all about the business -- communicating a vision, articulating a strategy, and working to set a gameplan in motion. Unlike "our people," they had a sense of mission, and their agenda in order, and had their eye on the prize. . . . Villaraigosa becoming mayor is but an intermediate step to that objective.

Meanwhile, the Reverend Jackson is off for an audience with El Presidente Fox. He'll comeback from this junket with a case of Pace Picante sauce, and a contract for the Mexican jumping bean concession in urban markets. On the following Saturday, during his weekly address at Operation PUSH, the good Reverend will declare the mission a success. Later that evening, Vincente Fox will go to bed and chuckle to himself for nearly 30 minutes, before falling fast asleep.

"La Reconquista" is in full effect, bruh!

A 21st Century Fugitive Slave Narrative . . .

I've been pretty wrapped up in college basketball for the past couple of weeks, much to the exclusion of just about everything, but my most basic needs and the most minimal of family obligations, so I've been out of the loop on most current events. I came to this realization after having a phone conversation with my Ma, and she mentioned something about "Brian G. Nichols," and and incident at Atlanta-Fulton County Courts.

Nichols, as you know, was the brother that capped the Fulton County Court judge, and three others this past Friday. It was now several days after the fact, so I decided to read up and get up to speed on this incident. I searched for Nichols' name on Google, and what popped up was the usual, pro-forma coverage on such events, that is typcial of most media outlets -- the so-called "facts" as they are know at the time. Most of it was senationalistic, hysterical and not all that revealing.

There were, however, a couple of interesting takes on the issue. . . The most interesting of these came on a weblog published by some one that dubbed himself as "The PhotoDude." (The site itself was an interesting illustration the creative power and potential weblogs as a vehicle for self-expression. It was part a promotional vehicle for his photography studio, but also used as a forum for his own "unique" perspective on what ever current events spark his ire at a particular moment.) Although I didn't care much for his particular take on the event, I'll have to give ol' Photodude's props for his interesting summary, analysis and commentary on the Fulton County Court slayings and it's fallout. I then wnet back and re-read a couple of articles from the AJC (Atlanta Journal-Constitution) and was intrigued by a couple of things:

1) The first thing that jumps out at you is the sheer incompetence of the local constabulary (Fulton County Sheriff's Department, Atlanta PD, etc.) That's plain. But it may not have entirely been their fault because . . .

2) Nichols was a piece of work. He wasn't your average felon that passes through the penal system. The account of his flight from Downtown Atlanta, which entailed five carjackings, backtracking and criss-crossing his path, and ultimately fleeing on foot via MARTA, is
simply remarkable in my view. Based on a description from a cellmate who did time with him, Nichols actually sounds like he's pretty damned bright and analytical. He's supposedly college educated, a graduate even. (This accomplishment, was in and of itself, was deemed so extraordinary, that Nichols might as well have been been an extra-terrestrial, an alien.) Nichols was a martial arts devotee, and generally practiced the self-restraint advocated by the discipline. There was also an undercurrent of angst the percolated below the surface, according to the ex-cellmate. This anger was partially over what he witnessed in the County Jail (the warehousing of young, black men such as himself) as well as the circumstances that brought him there in the first place. More about that in a moment. . .

3) It's also fair to say that Nichols' rampage is somewhat understandable when you dig into the some of the facts. He was, of course, in jail because for raping and kidnapping an ex-girlfriend.
The assualt doesn't warrant elaboration here, but let's just say that it was premeditated and extended. As I said, he was a piece of work. . . Prior to the assualt Nichols and his ex, clearly had a turbulent relationship -- so much so, that they actually sought out counsling from the woman's pastor. Eventually, they broke up, and, not too long after that Nichols' ex began dating the minister. I don't know about you, but the term "conflict of interest" came to mind as I read this
account, and, clearly something along those lines (and then some) occurred to Nichols, as well. . . . I'm just saying. . . It's interesting that Nichols' was facing a re-trial after his first case ended up with a hung jury.

4) White-folks, and white suburbanites, in particular are having a field day with the incident, as the photodude's article and some of the comments I skimmed through on the site. Many probably see the incident and the handling of it as the lastest evidence and justification for their antipathy towards the predominantly-African American run public institutions of Atlanta and Fulton County.

5) Which brings us finally to the "hostage." I haven't delved into this side of the story, but it's interesting how she is being portrayed thus far. She is being proclaimed as a "hero" by many,
including the Governor of Georgia -- and numerous Christian Right leaning websites and blogs -- for her calm, steely, determination in the face of danger. This widowed-single mother, a woman-of-faith stared down this big, bad black man and helped bring him to justice after the bumbling local authorities had failed to do so. Ah, . . . the paragon of white southern womanhood! It it weren't the 21st Century, you'd swear this story wer taken straight from an old pre-Civil war narrative. Big strapping fugitive slave is on the loose. During his flight, he stumbles on to the back forty of widow, who is valiantly struggling to keep the homstead up and running after her husband's deaths. . . . Well, . . . you get the picture.

I'm not holding my breath on this, but I can't wait until they start delving into the background of this woman. Usually when a grown person in their 30s or 40s comes off as that virtuous and pious, especially in that part of the country, it usually means that they spent a significant portion of their earlier life "in sin," doing some pretty shameful and freaky shit. It'll be pretty interesting to see what skeletons come jumping out of her closet. What will it be. . . Sex? . . . Drugs? . . . Rock-n-Roll? Sold her first born to a band of white-slavery traders? Or worst, . . . she used to be registered as a Democratic and voted for both Bill Clinton and Cynthia McKinney back in 1992.

It's simply fascinating, and I don't mean that in the postive sense. You'd think that fugative slave narratives, once a staple of late 19th Century Southern lore, were a thing of the past. Then again, if you simply read the crime blotter of your local daily, or watch a local TV News broadcasts, you'll realize that story gets recycled on a daily basis.

Beisbol Been Barry, Barry, Good to Me. . . .

What in the name of Chico Esquiela is going on here?!!!!

Why ain't Barry being "invited" to Rep. Jim Davis' (R-VA) little St. Patrick's Day get-together next week? The Honorable gentleman from Virginia sez they don't want it becoming "The Barry Bonds Show." What they really mean is that they're pre-empting another one of Barry's hour-long "diatribes." Hell, if you accept conventional wisdom, Barry might recite dialogue from the "Good Times" episode in which J.J. paints a portrait of Jesus Christ using Ned the Wino as his model, or the Doobie Brothers concert episode of "What's Happenin'" . . . Can't you just see Bonds steppin' up to Congressman Henry Waxman (D-CA) and asking him,"Which Doobie, you be?!"

Or maybe they're afraid that when they ask Bonds "The Question," he will stand up in the middle of his testimony, slip of his suit jacket, undo his belt buckle and let his pants drop to the floor, push his Fruit of the Looms down to his knees, and then grab his bat and balls while looking squarely at Congressmen Davis, and asert defiantly, "Does THIS look like I'm using steroids, motherfucker!!!!"

Seriously though, . . .What I really think the deal is that they are afraid of providing a forum for a bright, outspoken and opinionated black man. As much as I'd like the see it, I'm pretty sure Barry will not literally whip out his business before a Congressional committee, but he probably would do something pretty close to it, metaphorically speaking.

Bonds has certainly demonstrated that he's perfectly willing and capable of "showing his ass." He basically did as much during his February 21st press conference:

http://mlb.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/mlb/news/mlb_news.jsp?ymd=20050222&content_id=948340&vkey=spt2005news&fext=.jsp

If you read the transcript closely, Bonds basically drives home the point that this is all nonsense. The baseball writers thought he was crazy and said that Bonds "didn't get it" and that he was "deflecting accountability away from himself." Oh, Bonds "gets it," alright, and that's part of the problem as far as Congress and Major League Baseball are concerned. Out of all those who are under suspicion, Bonds is the least likely to play along with the game. Perhaps, there was method in the madness of his statements on February 21st, after all. If so, then they worked like a charm. Like I said, . . . Barry gets it. . . .


Now, let's take a look at the roster and check out who they're inviting. I'm wondering, how many of them actually "get it"?

Let's see . . . There's Curt Schilling, a shill for "W" hisself during the 2004 Campaign. You have Rafael Palmeiero, another friend and former employee of "W." He'also a Cuban expatriate, from Miami, and, by definition down with G.O.P.

Jason Giambi? Now there's a real rocket scientist for you, right there. Federal prosecutors said, "Boo!" and he sang like Mariah Carey at Radio City Music Hall. And please don't give me that nonsense about Bonds not being invited because the BALCO prosecutors called off Congressional investigators. If that were the case, then why is Giambi on the list? My nose is stuffed up, and you ain't "The Rock," so I ain't smellin' whatcha got cookin'.

Frank Thomas? Now, I've been a real "Big Hurt" fan from Day One, and believe he really got screwed over when he lost the MVP trophy to Juicin' Jason -- but let's be real here, they call him "The Big Blurt" for good reason. If you look up the term "hoof and mouth disease" in an encyclopedia, you're gonna find a picture of Big Frank with his size 14 Nike shoved up his pie-hole.

And Sammy So-so? His testimony will be nothing more than a Latinized Steppin Fetchit' act. Half the time he's going to feign like he didn't understand the questions; and the rest of the time he's going to smile and say something like "I 'pologize" or something to that effect. He might just break out with the Chico Esqueila act. It was "cute" back in 1998, when he was mugging for the cameras, and proclaiming that the the only thing he took was "Flinstones vitamins." Let's just hope he shoots Garrett Morris a royalty check for 50-Large after the hearing. I bet Morris could use the dough to supplement the residuals checks he's receiving from "The "Martin Show" and "The Jamie Foxx Show."

And Mark McGuire? . . . I'm sure he'd much rather spend March 17th working on his short game than sweating before the kleig lights on Capitol Hill. He's being included in the mix to make it look like they're singling out the players of color, as our man Jose has aptly pointed out about this mess in the first place. Sure Jose's selling books, but he has a point nontheless.


Here are three opinion pieces which are calling the Davis hearings out for being the dog-n-pony show that they really are:

The first, by Washington Post baseball columnist Thomas Boswell, asks the question: "What's the big rush?" and "Why now?"

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A25428-2005Mar10.html


The second, by Jason Whitlock of the Kansas City Star and the Page 2 Section of ESPN.com provides one explanation for the timing of these hearings. Four words: Barry, . . . Bonds, . . . Babe, . . . and . . . Ruth. (Sorry, that's five words.)

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=whitlock/050311


And finally, Ray Ratto, a columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle and another contributor to ESPN.com, offers a take on what might happen if Bonds actually crahsed the party:

http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/columns/story?columnist=ratto_ray&id=2009235

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What's the Big Deal about Steroids. . . .

. . . being used by athletes to enhance thier performance?! The common argument is that they provide an "unfair and advantage" to those that use them. But isn't that the overarching objective of any sports competition in the first place? As my man, Herman Edwards spelled it out so eloquently during a press conference for the thickheaded New York area sports press corp. . .

"Yoooooouuuu . . . Plaaaaayyyyyy. . Tooooooooooooooo. . . .Winnnnnn. . . .Theeeeeeeee GAAAAAMMMMMMMMMe!!!!!!!!!!"

It's the bottom line, and the only line!! And if you don't believe that then have a nice little conversation with Tyrone Willingham, Ron Zook, Art Howe, Lenny Wilkins, Dennis Erickson, Maurice Cheeks, Flip Saunders and see what they might have to say about that.

And haven't we been taught since kindergarten that we must always try our best? Aren't we always expected to excell, and do so by any means necessary? Or is it only by any ethical means necessary? There's old sports adage: "If you aint' cheatin'; you ain't tryin'" . . . So by using steroids to enhance my performance am I cheating or am I just trying harder than the next person to achieve excellence? Am I just willing to take more of a risk than the next man to endure the shrunken gonads, the overstressed musoskeletal system and other short- and long-term side effects for that extra edge? What is the role of free choice in this?

Another thing that bugs me is the argument that steroids are an "unnatural" means of performance enhancement. What this hell does that mean?! It's sort of redundant, don't you think? Think about it. . . Performance enhancement doesn't take place without some sort of external impetus or stimulus. . . . An athlete stretches so that he or she is more limber. They lift weights in order to get stronger. They jump in the whirlpool when their muscles are sore. When they blowout their ACL, tear a rotator cuff, or snap an achilles tendon, they have surgery to repair them.

Which brings me to my boy Barry Lamont Bonds -- he is after all the first and only reason we are even considering the issue in the first place. You gotta love him, simply for the reason that he referenced "Sanford and Son" in his diatribe on the first day of Spring Training. Personally, I'm savin' up my sheckels so I can cop an authentic Bonds #25 S.F. Giants home white to sport around the 'hood. But I digress. . . .


Anyway, . . . So, Barry is an asshole. . . He is going to pass Babe Ruth's 714 before the 40th game of the season. . . He's been linked to BALCO, an outfit which traffics in natural and synthetic performance enhancing substances. And the fact that he was already otherworldly talented, and may have dabbled with such substance merely adds insult to injury. So what?!! He is simply doing what he is supposed to do . . . HEEEE ISSSSS TRYIIINNNGGG . . . TOOOOO. . . BEEEEEE . . . THEEEEEE . . . BESSSSTTTT HEEEEEE Cannnnn . . . . BEEEEE!!!!!!! And he is doing so with what happens to be the state of the art in these days and times.

Give me a break with all this garbage about astericks by his records. As Jose Canseco has asserted all along the use of steroids and HGH have been widespread in baseball for at least a decade. Put simply, it is the state of the art. . . the prevailing practice. And let's not forget that it has long been common practice for baseball players to pop greenies, stoke up on caffeine and other stimulants for an edge. Just ask Jim Bouton. State of the art! So you mean to tell me that if I dig up evidence that Pete Rose took speed before games you're going to put an asterick by his name on the alltime leading hitters list?

And let's go back to the question of surgical procedures. . . All athletes have some sort of procedure performed at some point of their career, and in nearly all instances it's done to facilitate their longevity. How can you deny that this is a form of performance enhancement. Furthermore, you can deem it an unnatural means of enhancement because the sole purpose of surgery is to repair natural wear and tear on an athlete's body. So if we are going to condemn Barry Bond, Mark McGwire for their use of so-called unnatural performance enhancers, then we have to lump Nolan Ryan, Roger Clemens and others right along with them because the latter group have all had their careers extended through periodic tune-ups under the knife. I don't see anyone clamoring to put an asterick next to their names. There's only one athlete that I can think of who played in the modern (i.e. post-War) sports era that could even come close to measuring up against such absurd standards: Sandy Koufax . . . . And he literally pitched until his arm fell off.

I defy you to name another.

I'll Drink A Tub O' Yo' Baff Water!!!

“Tennis player Serena Williams poses for photographers during a pre-kickoff event to the South Beach Wine and Food Festival, Wednesday, Feb. 23, 2005 in Miami Beach, Fla. (AP Photo/Alan Diaz)

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If you've seen Spike Lee's "She's Gotta Have It," then you know that the above caption is a line from the the "Dog Montage" in that movie. It came to mind when I read this following blurb entiled "Luxury sweet for Serena" that appeared in the 2/28/05 Chicago Sun-Times "Quick Tips" Column:


Tennis star Serena Williams made something of a splash as part of the South Beach Wine and Food Festival last week in Miami Beach, Fla.

OK, not so much a splash as a splashy presence.

Clad in a bikini, she plunged into her role at promoting something called the Evian Experience at Hotel Victor.

OK, not so much plunged as sat calmly in the tub filled with bottled water.

"I could feel the difference from the moment I stepped in -- the water felt so pure,'' said Williams, surrounded in the tub by fuchsia and orange Gerber Daisies (whatever those are). "Also ... Evian is a sponsor of the U.S. Open, which I've won the last few years, so I guess you can say the water has been lucky for me.''

Lucky for her, she didn't have to pay for the extravagance (although she certainly can afford to do so), which includes more than 1,000 liters of water in the tub, spa treatment, champagne, caviar and other delicacies.

The experience costs $5,000 and is available only in the penthouse suite, which goes for $6,000 a night. Which translates into the most expensive bath experience in the world. Which, if nothing else, ought to make you feel a little bit better about your water bill.