The Intricacies of Priorities

 

Bro’s Before Hoes

You’ll have to excuse me.  I went to a function last night and the liquor has a way of creeping up on you.  After a long day of reviewing and comparing construction contracts I decided to make good on a Facebook RSVP and headed on down to the Howard University Alumni Band happy hour.  I know it’s totally a stretch.  What sweetened the deal for me was the fact that it was at Hogates, a restaurant on the Potomac Waterfront right down the street from my house.  I decided to walk.  This time, I made sure to show up solo.  I wore the Ralph Lauren navy blue suit with the gold pocket square to let them know without being a big dick about it.

As an older alumnus, now I play the middle of the pack and I made my rounds accordingly.  When I walked through the door, younger fraternity brothers greeted me with handshakes.  It is a time worn tactic, because they know I must make my way to older brothers as soon as possible and each successive grip delays me.  I know that I’m an old brother of Kappa Kappa Psi, National Honorary Band Fraternity because the journey to the oldest brother in the room takes longer and longer.  It is also customary for brothers to begin greeting sisters of the Tau Beta Sigma, National Honorary Band Sorority in reverse chronological order, oldest to youngest.  I usually don’t get a chance to talk to unaffiliated band members anymore. 

The brothers went by quickly at this function because for all practical purposes it is relatively early in the season.  We have a tendency to pick up steam as the football team approaches homecoming and the marching starts sounding good.  The brothers that were at this function were either currently on the Showtime Marching band staff or still closely affiliated with band but the sisters always show in force regardless.  The second sister I greeted was “Lacy,” the mutual Facebook friend / coworker of Mz. Thang who wanted me to hang her blinds some months ago.  We talked about it again and she was very respectful when she told her side of the story.

I learned a lot from Lacy’s account of the story.  I learned that Mz. Thang was probably out of her fucking mind.  The only comment that Lacy left me with was that “she is real bourgeoisie.”  I fucking knew that shit.  Only she isn’t really bourgeoisie.  She’s merely pretending after college, and that doesn’t count.  Degrees aren’t coronation ceremonies, and joining an organization doesn’t entail stewardship of some fiefdom.  Our people need to get out of that whack ass mindset.  Folks out here are acting like they had silver spoons in their mouths their whole lives because they went ahead and got that Masters degree.  The okey-doke is that academia is a racket, and those that make it through are the lottery winners.  (Albeit, a very efficiently rigged lottery.)  I have cousins that went down for selling crack, nigga!  Straight served federal time, three strikes the whole nine.

You can’t tell me that some girl that went to a District of Columbia public high school is bourgeoisie, unless she went to Banneker and lived up off of 16th Street past Rock Creek Park in the Gold Coast. For the record, Mz. Thang didn’t go there or live anywhere near there.  (The girls that did were on me a long time ago, and if I had had some sense back then I would have tried to wife one when momma had a house there.)  There were a couple in Montgomery County that I was trying to see back-in-the-day, but I never really had my act together when I was meeting those types.  All that’s left, it seems, are the fakers trying to aspire to what they imagine in their small minds while quietly pricing themselves out of the legitimate market.

Yeah, I took it there. 

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