If a child falls in the hood and no one cares to hear about it....

..should we make a sound? Of course we should. We owe our children that much.

As my man Reggie Warrington [Dave Chappelle] told Buddy Love [Eddie Murphy] in the Nutty Professor; "it's time to attack black."

So here we go again. It seems like every now and then I have to go on one of these rants. My Killadelphia murder count on the sidebar of this blog is not enough. Black folks, unfortunately, have become numb to the senseless killing of our children by our children. So what if three more young men were murdered this past week in Philly? Or if well over thirty school aged children have been murdered in Chicago this year? (How come Oprah doesn't have a show about that? I guess Dr. Phil doesn't do grief counseling) We have come to expect it.

But every now and then there is a murder that shocks our collective conscience and plays itself into the national psyche. Instead of a line or two in the metro page of the local paper, it makes national news. Bryan Williams is talking about it, and middle A-merry-cas is watching it with their hands over their mouths. In the hood people are wondering what's the big deal. How come this one made the national news and all the others didn't?

Well maybe it's because this one played itself out on video like a twisted reality television show for all of us to see. -And in the president's hometown no less- Urban terrorist beating a young honor student to death. No remorse, no heart, and no hesitation. Like a pack of animals who have strayed far away from their human DNA. You have all seen the video by now. If you haven't maybe you should. And when you do, take a long hard look at those those urban terrorist and try to find something. Maybe a clue as to why they act the way that they do. Something. Anything. I looked. In fact, I am always looking.

Here is what I see whenever I look: Children-wait, I take that back; boys without fathers. Young men with no men in their lives. Young men being raised by the streets and all sorts of negative influences. Most of them are here compliments of some sperm donor who just kept getting up. Absent fathers who thought that mom had a fat ass and was a "hell a nice shot".

I never see those sperm donors in criminal court when the cases are being called and the defendant's are being led into the courtroom. Only girlfriends, grandmothers, and mothers. The only black males I see in the court rooms are the sheriffs. When I go into the home of a potential client, the only people I negotiate with are mothers and grandmothers. Again, there is never a sperm donor in sight. That is my reality, and it's better than any scientific study you can cook up from some fancy Ivy League school. Oh field, stop it, what do you expect these men to do? What about the women who hook up with them? What about them? I can't speak for the women. All I know is that more often or not she is the one left to raise the child by herself. The sperm donor is always long gone and nowhere around. Regardless of who zoomed who.

I am so sick of seeing the vigils, the teddy bears, and the prayer groups in front of crime scenes. Because the sad reality is that tomorrow, just like clockwork, some poor child will be snatched from us by an urban terrorist all over again.

Today, Al Sharpton,Newt Gingrich, and Education Secretary, Arne Duncan, toured the schools here in Philly. (Talk about strange bedfellows)They were here to praise the charter school system in our fine city and push for longer hours in school. That's all fine. But our schools could stay open twenty four hours a day and it wouldn't make a damn difference to the urban terrorist out here. The kids who want to learn will be there, and the others will keep doing what they are doing now: be disruptive, make it harder for the other kids, and create a poor overall learning environment.

But let's keep it real with each other. The schools can only do so much. Everything starts at home.

I know that I am preaching to the choir here, because most of you who read this blog with children don't need to here this. I am sure that your children are fine. But what about the rest of them? All of our children. A-merry-ca's children. (Well, black A-merry-ca's children, because I am quite sure that the rest of A-merry-ca would never claim them. They would much rather adopt a nice little Asian or Russian girl...let me stop.) How do we get to them? How do we stop the sperm donors? It's, for the most part, a question that is orotund in nature. Because as much as I have tried to figure it out, I swear that I don't know the answer.

Jeremiah is a bullfrog.

"Get ready for action, don't be astounded We switching positions, you feel surrounded Tell me where you want your gift, girl. Girl you know I-I-I, Girl you know I-I-II been feenin Wake up in the late night Been dreamin about your loving, girl Girl you know I-I-I, Girl you know I-I-I Don't need candles and cake Just need your body to make...Birthday sex... Birthday sex oohoohoohooh(It's the best day of the year girl)Birthday sex... Birthday sex oohoohoohooh(G-spot g-spot let me hit that g-spot g-spot girl..." "FIELD!!!"

"Field, what the hell is that you are listening? Do you realize that there is a four year old in the back of the car?" "Play it uncle Field, I like it. "

Some background: We are in a rental down in the Sunshine State, the radio is on the first black station I could find, and this little Negro, Jeremiah, or ---whatever his name is-- is singing this crap and corrupting my little niece. Of course, usually I will listen to this garbage, but I had a momentary lapse and forgot about the little one in the back.

"Did you hear what he was saying sweetie?" "Field, why are you asking her that?" "I just want to know what she heard, dear"." Yes uncle Field, he said birthday text, birthday text." "That's it sweetheart; birthday text. The man just wants to text his friend on her birthday."

"Change that station field! I don't even know why you listen to that garbage. I swear the lord didn't give you children for a reason." "Noooo, keep it there uncle Field, I like it".

Right about now I am in full parent mode and I am starting to understand what you parents have had to put up with for all these years. What the hell possessed this record company to promote this kind of song? (That's a rhetorical question. I know why they promote it) Don't they know that there are children out here listening to this stuff? I don't blame Jeremiah, he wants a hit by any means necessary, but the record companies have a greater responsibility. Don't they care if our children become sex obsessed little creatures?

Question: how do you parents keep your kids from listening to this stuff? I will be playing Daddy for the next three weeks or so and I really need to know. It must be really tough when record companies seem to be conspiring against you. I mean the television is bad enough, and these popular songs on the radio these days just adds to the problem.

The problem is, the little rug-rat loves music, and she learns the lyrics to songs faster than her ABC's. She changes the television stations by her lonesome to the video channels and before you know it she is doing Beyonce imitations right in front of the boob-tube. The bigger problem is that I can't say no. "Uncle Field, I want to watch videos." "No, your aunt doesn't like you listening to this stuff." "Please uncle Field"........ "Okay, just this once. But I have to keep the remote." Uncle Field can't take a chance with birthday t-e-x-t coming on.

Stop the monorail I want to get off!

From the Main Street parade, to the Jungle Cruise, to It's A Small World, to The Monster's Comedy Show, to Peter Pan's Flight, to.......I swear that by the time I got to Minnie's House I was ready to bring old Walt from the dead and put his ass down again. There ought to be a law against this. It is just not fair to you parents out there. You are slaves to the marketing of Disney and their control of your children's minds. You are, in effect, pawns in an incredible conspiracy.

I have a new found respect for every parent in A-merry-ca. And if you are a single parent, you deserve a congressional medal of honor. My hands, neck and my feet are about to fall off of my body from carrying a four year old all over the Magic Kingdom. My ears are still ringing not only from the screams of these little aliens whose minds have been taken over by all things Disney,but from the chi ching of money passing hands to Walt's faithful servants.

"Are you having fun?" "Uncle Field this is the best fun I have ever had. Are we going to Toontown now? And are we going to see Nemo tomorrow?"

My flight leaves this planet of the children tomorrow at exactly 8:30AM. I cannot wait to get on it. Killadelphia, you never looked so good.

It's your call.

I need everyone reading this, just for tonight, to pretend that they are family court judges.

I am going to give you all a hypothetical situation. This is a made up scenario, so if the name I use is the same as a living person in a similar situation, it is totally coincidental. Anyway, here is the deal:

You have before you, John Smith, who is 35 years old and has ten children with six different women. Unlike Travis Henry, (whose sperm cells can probably bench press more than he can) Mr. Smith has no income or assets. Five of the women receive cash assistance from welfare, and Mr. Smith doesn't have a job, and doesn't support his children emotionally or financially. In fact, he lives with a woman who has two children of her own (not his) and she gets welfare, herself.

A child support order was entered against Mr. Smith in three cases for four of his children, but after the wage garnishments started he quit his job. Subsequently, Mr. Smith went out and had six more children with three different women.

Now Mr. Smith has been found in contempt of court for failure to pay his previous child support orders, and he stands in front of you. How do you sentence him? Oh, and forget about the sentencing guidelines. You can give Mr. Smith any sentence you want. It can be as harsh as the death penalty, or you can set him free with zero jail time.

Your Honor, we await your ruling.

Back from the barbecues.

So I went to a couple of barbecues today. The earlier one was in a part of Philly known as Logan. Working class, blue collar, black neighborhood (you folks from Philly know where I am talking about), and I had a blast. The music and the food was good, the people were genuine, and when I had to leave to head out to our next stop, I didn't want to go.

But leave I did. Mrs. Field was pinching my arm so we headed to another barbecue out in a fairly affluent area of the burbs known as Newtown. (You folks from Philly might know that area as well) Now, as you might expect, I didn't have quite as much fun. The people...well, they weren't as much fun, the food wasn't quite as good, and I didn't hear any music. Still, I have to admit, I had a decent time there too.

But that's not what I want to post about. I actually want to ask you smart folks who read and comment on this blog, your opinion about something.

There was a black couple at the barbecue we visited who are fairly affluent themselves, and they live in a predominantly white area. Their son, a very handsome kid, is going into his sophomore year in high school. He is on the tennis team (the kid can hit em. I played with him when he was twelve, and he was wearing me out then), and I am pretty sure that he will make the varsity baseball team as well. To top it off, he makes good grades, and he is very popular in his school.

Now here is the problem; at least more so for his Mother than his dad. All of his friends, including his little girlfriends, are white. His parents told us that before they left to come to the barbecue, the kid headed out with a car full of little white girls. And his Mom was not pleased about it. Not because, she said, his little playmates were white, but because, according to her, she knows what can happen in situations like that.

Now honestly, the kid's father and I didn't have a real problem with him going out with his friends and having a good time on the fourth. The kid is popular in his school, and he is going to attract girls, black and white. Problem is, at his school, there aren't many black girls (or boys for that matter) for him to interact with. Hey, the kid is a product of his environment. And it's not the first time that I have heard this kind of lament from black folks who have moved to the burbs and have a problem with their kids interacting with only white kids. It happens all the time. But is it such a bad thing? As long as they get the proper cultural indoctrination that they need at home and from their family, should his black parents even make an issue of it?

Now I understand Mom's concerns, I honestly do. I mean you hear all these stories about the black kid in the group getting singled out. all the time. But you can't stifle the kid and tell him not to have fun with his friends, whoever they might be. You can't tell your kid to be intolerant of other kids because they are white, just because your experiences say things aren't always what they seem. Or can you? I don't know, I am not a parent, so i really don't know what I would do. he kids is a teenager, you made a choice to live where you do, you can't now tell the kid who to choose as his friends. At least I don't think you can.....

I don't know, which is why I am putting it out there (I told his father that I would, so it's all good). Mrs. Field understands Mom's concerns, and we debated tha...okay we argued about that shit all the way home. Somehow it went from a discussion about race and parenting to women and out of control testosterone's. Needless to say, I ended that bad boy [the debate] as soon as possible. I told her she was right ("I know I am she said"), acknowledged that maybe I would be concerned about my son too, and headed to my computer.

The lollipop theory.

"Field have you ever seen a half eaten lollipop?"

A girlfriend of mine used to ask me that question. When I asked her what that was supposed to mean, she explained to me that a man will use something up until he can't use it anymore. If he sees something he likes he will always go back for more. Thus the half eaten lollipop theory. "A man will never really break up with a woman" she used to tell me, "because as long as she lets him he will always go back for more lollipop". Okay, I must confess that the "half eaten lollipop theory" never really made much sense to me, I always figured that it was a woman thing and you would have to be one to really understand it.

But now, as I get older, I think I am starting to get it a little more. I am starting to see how it plays itself out in more dangerous and sobering ways.

So having said all of that that, I have a question for the women reading this:

If you have two children by a man---- let's say they are two years apart, and five years later you find yourself alone and not receiving any financial or emotional support from him. And for whatever reason, let's say he comes back into your life. Do you now have yet another child with him, the same man? And after you have that child, do you now sue him for support for all three children, and then damn the court system when they can't force him to pay because he doesn't have a pot to piss in?

I mean if you have the potential to be a lollipop, shouldn't you make sure that you know when to tell the eater to stop.

I am just wondering. Sometimes I have to try and find ways to blog about real life shit. And sometimes you folks have to give me some real answers.