Poetic Justice.

I'm sure you guys are wondering how my latest poem came to fruition.

October 12th, 2009--Happy Birthday, Columbus. Happy Birthday, Father.


Yes, it was my Dad's birthday. James and I were invited to my parents' house to celebrate. Everything was ordinarily extraordinary (since they have such an opulent lifestyle in comparison to us), including the shrimp reduced in wine sauce over a bed of rice (aka dinner). All was well until we sat on the burgundy leather mini-couches in the living room. My dad turns on the TV, and oh SNAPAJAWEA!--it's Fox News. My favorite.

The blurb comes on about Rich Limbaugh's bid for the St. Louis Rams. The Repub press was discussing the public's/professionals' response, mostly about the remarks he made about Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb. He was quoted as such:

"Sorry to say this, I don't think he's been that good from the get-go," Limbaugh said. "I think what we've had here is a little social concern in the NFL. The media has been very desirous that a black quarterback do well. There is a little hope invested in McNabb, and he got a lot of credit for the performance of this team that he didn't deserve. The defense carried this team."~Rush Limbaugh, Oct. 1, 2003, following the Eagles' 23-13 win over the Buffalo Bills. ---ESPN.COM

Now, I'm sure it is quite evident to Rush that when he said it was "desirous that a black quarterback do well" that he didn't intend to be racist. This also doesn't mean that racism should be condoned, either, but before I expound on that, let's rewind back to the newscast.

The Fox News, "analysts" said that because his remarks, the NFL was discriminating against him for what he'd said. NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell (the same person responsible for the suspension of Michael Vick, and ultimately, the CEO of football) said that he'd spoken to several players, some of which are from the Rams, and they'd voiced their displeasure about having a controversial figure support their franchise.

That being said, let's take a look at basic anatomy, here, no circulatory system involved (although it wouldn't hurt Limbaugh to have a pulse). I'm talking about the anatomy of a business. Organizational Communication 101. At the lowest level, you have your business. You have a CEO, who is at the top of "tree" or "food chain" of sorts. Beneath that individual, you have your manager/boss. Below them, you've got your serfs---I mean, workers. From the eaves the top, everyone serves their master. Of course, you have several intricacies in between, but your make up is established as thus. In a franchise, you have a chain of businesses working together to serve and produce (tangibly or intangibly).

The NFL, NHL, and NBA are not much different in that respect. They are businesses. The NFL has PROFESSIONAL athletes, who are EMPLOYED by the NFL and their chosen team, or company, to perform.

Now that we've talked basic business, let's talk about public relations. Business owners want to promote themselves, their line of work, and their trademark---'trademark', in this case, referring to what differentiates them from their competition. Some businesses want, whether because of outstanding qualifications or reputation, a face to represent them.

This brings us to Limbaugh. He makes a comment that, in the eyes of players, a sport, and a franchise that is PREDOMINANTLY AFRICAN-AMERICAN, that the media wants black quarterbacks to succeed, and that McNabb doesn't deserve much credit. The Rams, Goodell, and the rest of the league evaluated those statements, and realized that---in all best interests noted---Limbaugh's libelous statements may give them the appearance of impropriety.

What did my father say? "They can't do that. It's discrimination. That's bullshit."

I responded, gently at first, and was met with his usual "You don't know what you're talking about, blah blah blah" business. It wasn't that I WANTED to disarm him on his own birthday, but slightly more than a quarter century of my life has passed, and I never felt strong enough to defend my beliefs.

I raised my voice, loudly, and explained the business model again. I said every business reserves the right to make decisions in its best interest, and if it's bad PR for Limbaugh to be on board, they have the right to tell him so. That's not discrimination. They didn't deny him because of his race, gender, or sexuality. They denied him because of his ACTIONS, which, to me, were unwarranted and unprofessional.

Dad proceeded to scream at me, telling me I was just a kid, I have no idea how a business works, he was a businessperson himself, etc. Funny how he answers his own fucking question, since HE PROVIDED QUITE THE BUSINESS MODEL FOR ME GROWING UP. Where did I learn what a Sole Proprietorship is, and how I have one? From HIS mark ass--he and my mother both owned the framing business.

I'm sorry, but some of the most asinine human beings have touted age and experience as infallible credentials for---everything. I don't brag to two-year-olds about how much I know.

Eventually, he told me I was yelling at him. I lowered my voice about ten decibels and started speaking to him as if he were a small child, which I use as a sales approach if a customer starts swearing at me. I informed him I wasn't yelling, I was trying to make a point. I added that whenever my mother and I try to intellectually contribute to a conversation, he cuts us off and tells us we don't know what we're talking about, as if we're stupid. I then informed him he believes everything he sees and hears (LOL, because he does!), and he said he wasn't going to take this.
"FUCK YOU, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!" He added that we're on two completely different ends of spectrum (I guess I'm a Liberal now. So what?). I laughed at him. I thought it was ridiculous, but he was for real. The next thing I knew, James and I were hugging Mom goodbye. My panic attack didn't set in until I was sitting in the Impala. I sobbed my tear ducts out. I wanted to know why I couldn't just talk to the man. I wasn't trying to support legislation to ban crazy Republican radio personalities from buying NFL football teams.

We eventually departed, and when we reached Transfer, the phone rang. I looked down, and saw that it was my father. I answered. He told me that I had surpassed his expectations, and that I didn't have to prove myself anymore, and a few other valuable compliments. I let him talk for a few more minutes, until a pause denoted my response. I told him I appreciated what he'd said, and that all I really wanted to do was talk. He said he understood, and that he "should have blown up like that," and said he wouldn't argue with us about business or politics again. He also said he's found that he can't talk to people about it anymore, since it pisses them off (i.e., some guy in the gym who can't say "boo" to him now because he's a Democrat).

I told Joy and Lynn about it, and Joy's response: "Too little, too late."

Maybe, but at least I got an apology, and at least you got an insight into the inspiration for the previous poem.

Word.