#MNR: A CHRISTMAS STORY
 
“Someday all our dreams will come to be. Someday in a world where men are free. Maybe not in time for you and me, but someday at Christmas time.”
Stevie Wonder
 
“In my mind...I want you to be free.”
The Temptations
 
 
Shareon was a holidays type of lady. She lived for this time of year. It began with her faithful viewing of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and concluded with December 25. As an adult, the holidays were usually the time I took my annual trip to VA to visit her because both our schedules were clear. For her, the holidays were always about spending time with loved ones. The gifts and food were great perks, but nothing compared to kinship. Shareon (and damn near everyone else) is gone, but her spirit lives on.
 
My mother was heavy on spinning her holiday music. It has been the inspiration for past #MNR blogs on the greatest holiday songs in Black American culture. “Silent Night” by The Temptations will always finish number one, but several others are staples in my culture as well. “Let It Snow” by Boyz II Men and Brian McKnight is my personal favorite, as it is a song that was released while I was an eclectic music-consuming adolescent with a porn star’s libido. I’m almost certain that if you asked 100 random colored folk their favorite holiday song the consensus would be “This Christmas” by my great uncle Donny Hathaway. All these songs are GOAT status. I’ve got to keep it all the way real and include “All I Want For Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey. I say I’ve got to keep it real because I resented the song for years. I LOVE Mariah and liked the song when it was originally released (Shareon had the CD, of course) but I couldn’t embrace the song after its reemergence into Billboard. It pissed me off that because white folk discovered a 30-year-old song a decade ago, it gets to claim #1 every damn year. For the record, I feel that every song I mentioned in this paragraph and a handful of others are all better than “All I Want For Christmas is You.” But a new generation of whites found it to be cute, so it gets to outshine other Christmas songs from other Black legends. This isn’t a knock to my baby Mariah or the song. She deserves every penny and every accolade. This is a knock against dickriding as a movement, sport and culture. Merry Christmas, you filthy animals.
 
I took my Auntie Sandra and a loved one to see The Color Purple Christmas morning. I was very impressed with the film, outside of a couple of aesthetic miscues. The men had their hats on inside the first church scene and the cross on the church wall had Christ hanging from it. As a lifelong churchgoer and believer, men NEVER wear hats inside the church. In addition, my Christ is living; he got off that cross a long time ago. Our crosses do not have Christ crucified and hanging on them. That’s Catholicism. Aside from those noticeable errors, the movie was amazing. It followed the original storyline but took a musical approach. I don’t watch a lot of musicals, but I’m pretty sure that was the vibe. I loved Tasha Jefferson’s portrayal of Sophia; she popped the most to me. She stole every scene. The dinner table (Thanksgiving) scene was arguably as good as the original. I’m a big Fantasia fan, and she did her thing this time around as adult Celie. My baby girl H.E.R. made an appearance as Squeak, whose character had a bigger role in the 2023 adaptation. Colman Domingo did his damn thing as Mister. He didn’t have the same evil aura as Danny Glover’s hardface did, but he was mean enough. Watching the original version as a kid was one thing. I knew it was a classic because all the adults around 9-year-old me raved about how much of a classic it was. But watching the storyline as a grown ass adult hit different. I understood the incest first time around; that’s not what I’m referring to. As a kid I didn’t fully realize that Celie really felt that she was alone and unloved in the world and how much her bond with Shug meant to her psychological development. I also didn’t realize that Celie and Shug munched each other’s carpet, either. Don’t get it twisted, I’m not mad at all (insert eyes emoji). I’m just saying... All jokes aside, I loved the movie. It was much more than I expected. I recommend taking a loved one to see it.
 
Ty Monday #MNR Official Movie Rating: 9.1/10. (new classic)
 
I hope that you all are smoking the finest of Christmas trees this holiday season. As I gather around the yuletide fire and light my holiday tree, my wish is that every human could be free. I wish that WE loved OURSELVES the way WE did before desegregation. I wish that every kid had presents under the Christmas tree. I wish Israel would stop massacring Palestinian civilians and desecrating their communities. I wish that Republican governors would reverse their insidious intentions and restore SNAP benefits to the downtrodden children who call the states they govern home. Feeding a hungry child has never been nor will it ever be political. I wish that every man could love his neighbor the same way he loves himself. And if he doesn’t love himself, I wish he knew that God loves him and always will. I wish that all missing children were returned home safely to their loved ones. I wish that quality education was attainable for all, irrespective of socioeconomic background. I wish United States and World History were taught from a 100% contextual standpoint in every classroom and lecture hall around the world, from elementary school to postgraduate school. I wish that Shareon were alive to receive this Pulitzer Prize I’m going to win from my next work of fiction. I wish I would have gone downstairs the night that Chubb called me and told me that he was on the block and wanted to see me. I wish Tamika were here to go through the ups and downs of this beautiful struggle called life with me. I wish that I could see the day that the last are the first.
 
Happy Holidays from The Unbearables Crew to you and yours.
 
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
crewunb.com: @crewunB on Twitter & @theunbearablescrew on IG

#MNR: IF MY HOMIE CALLS
 
“Born alone, die alone. No crew to keep my crown or throne.”
Nasir Jones
 
I’m deep by sound alone...
 
I lost my sister at birth. She was completely healthy, but the doctors botched the delivery. Therefore, I am an only child by default. I have a stepbrother; we aren’t close. We lived together during my high school era; he was a nuisance. He’s not a bad human, but he is an incessant mistruth teller. Me no like. The humans closest to being my blood brothers are my first cousins @iamdjgreen and Reggie, sons of Uncle Archie and Auntie Cynthia. I love both as brothers and spent extensive time with them at certain points in my life. I’ve been blessed with more than a few brothers from another mother. There’s my day one Nick Thomas from Bridgehampton, my bro Rahgie from the Hali, the NFL clique, the Rat Pack (including D. Peebles – my last shining star at VUU), The 210 Squad/4 Cornaz (RIP Chubby), CEO, Twin, Moats Jr., Murda, Milt and my brother Sean. I’ve lost at least 13 homies at last count, for diverse reasons. Quite a few were victims of gunplay. One was a domestic violence victim. One had health issues. One died on a bike. One had an unfortunate slip and fall. One took his own life. LONG LIVE ALL MY DEAD. I have several sisters from another mother whom I love dearly, most of whom date back to 1500 North Lombardy Street. Jon Jon is my heart. Some of the plutonic women in my life are from diverse jobs I’ve had. Karen Gianetti is my heart and foxhole partner. Murph is my dawg. KP is precious. I love my current work fam: my ace Ju and my classroom team Lynn and Joji. Man or woman, I’m genuine to them all. They. Are. My. Friends.
 
I don’t take or use the word friend lightly. If I consider you to be my friend, I love you. I’m down for you. I’m going to ride for you. I’ll never snake you. I’ll never kick your back in. I’ll never try to get with your old lady. I’ll never steal out of your wallet. I’ll never front on you. If I speak on your name without your presence, I’ve already told you to your face. All I ask is for the same in return. I think I deserve that much.
 
Perhaps I’m delusional. Maybe I’m not a good friend. Maybe everything I’ve said is a complete and utter lie. See, the thing is, I’m done pondering. If I’m not your friend, if I’m not shit to you, make it known. I’m good with all that. I can live with it. I have no choice.
 
Sike. FOH.
 
My love is eternal for my true friends. We’ve been through so much together. We continue to live and grow. I don’t want to underscore what you all mean to me. I love you all. I know you all love me. I know that our love is indelible. I am thankful for you all.
 
Next Monday is the annual Christmas blog. CEO and I will probably drop it a day or two early. I want to be in a good mood and head space when I write it. The Lord deserves that. Shareon loved the holidays; she deserves that. We’ll come back next week, slate clean. Here’s to last minute shopping. Spend time with your loved ones. They won’t be here forever.
 
I apologize to my faithful for the tone and brevity of this blog, but it’s the type of time I’m on tonight. It was either this or betraying my promise of delivering a fresh blog every Monday. I’m always going to keep my word. My word is my bond. My name is my name.
 
I still remember hearing Mr. Cheeks’ voice for the first time on “Straight From Da Ghetto.” It was the sincerity; it spoke to my soul. There was no bravado. There was no pretense. Just sincerity and pain. I’ll never forget that feeling. I felt like I knew all those folk he mentioned who were in the essence. That’s the tone in which I wrote this blog. One more time from the top...
 
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
crewunb.com: @crewunB on Twitter & @theunbearablescrew on IG


#MNR: IF MY HOMIE CALLS
 
“Born alone, die alone. No crew to keep my crown or throne.”
Nasir Jones
 
I’m deep by sound alone...
 
I lost my sister at birth. She was completely healthy, but the doctors botched the delivery. Therefore, I am an only child by default. I have a stepbrother; we aren’t close. We lived together during my high school era; he was a nuisance. He’s not a bad human, but he is an incessant mistruth teller. Me no like. The humans closest to being my blood brothers are my first cousins @iamdjgreen and Reggie, sons of Uncle Archie and Auntie Cynthia. I love both as brothers and spent extensive time with them at certain points in my life. I’ve been blessed with more than a few brothers from another mother. There’s my day one Nick Thomas from Bridgehampton, my bro Rahgie from the Hali, the NFL clique, the Rat Pack (including D. Peebles – my last shining star at VUU), The 210 Squad/4 Cornaz (RIP Chubby), CEO, Twin, Moats Jr., Murda, Milt and my brother Sean. I’ve lost at least 13 homies at last count, for diverse reasons. Quite a few were victims of gunplay. One was a domestic violence victim. One had health issues. One died on a bike. One had an unfortunate slip and fall. One took his own life. LONG LIVE ALL MY DEAD. I have several sisters from another mother whom I love dearly, most of whom date back to 1500 North Lombardy Street. Jon Jon is my heart. Some of the plutonic women in my life are from diverse jobs I’ve had. Karen Gianetti is my heart and foxhole partner. Murph is my dawg. KP is precious. I love my current work fam: my ace Ju and my classroom team Lynn and Joji. Man or woman, I’m genuine to them all. They. Are. My. Friends.
 
I don’t take or use the word friend lightly. If I consider you to be my friend, I love you. I’m down for you. I’m going to ride for you. I’ll never snake you. I’ll never kick your back in. I’ll never try to get with your old lady. I’ll never steal out of your wallet. I’ll never front on you. If I speak on your name without your presence, I’ve already told you to your face. All I ask is for the same in return. I think I deserve that much.
 
Perhaps I’m delusional. Maybe I’m not a good friend. Maybe everything I’ve said is a complete and utter lie. See, the thing is, I’m done pondering. If I’m not your friend, if I’m not shit to you, make it known. I’m good with all that. I can live with it. I have no choice.
 
Sike. FOH.
 
My love is eternal for my true friends. We’ve been through so much together. We continue to live and grow. I don’t want to underscore what you all mean to me. I love you all. I know you all love me. I know that our love is indelible. I am thankful for you all.
 
Next Monday is the annual Christmas blog. CEO and I will probably drop it a day or two early. I want to be in a good mood and head space when I write it. The Lord deserves that. Shareon loved the holidays; she deserves that. We’ll come back next week, slate clean. Here’s to last minute shopping. Spend time with your loved ones. They won’t be here forever.
 
I apologize to my faithful for the tone and brevity of this blog, but it’s the type of time I’m on tonight. It was either this or betraying my promise of delivering a fresh blog every Monday. I’m always going to keep my word. My word is my bond. My name is my name.
 
I still remember hearing Mr. Cheeks’ voice for the first time on “Straight From Da Ghetto.” It was the sincerity; it spoke to my soul. There was no bravado. There was no pretense. Just sincerity and pain. I’ll never forget that feeling. I felt like I knew all those folk he mentioned who were in the essence. That’s the tone in which I wrote this blog. One more time from the top...
 
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
crewunb.com: @crewunB on Twitter & @theunbearablescrew on IG

#MNR: I GOT NOTHING
 
“Bitch got the nerve [to] say she don’t like rubbers. She don’t know that I know she be fucking my brother, bitch. I ain’t going out like no sucker.”
Lil Baby
 
“Going through the emotions of gun holding. Long shotgun down my pants leg, limping. Killer B you still living, even my pops too. He taught me how to shoot when I was seven.”
Prodigy – RIP Bandana P. Love you, my boy. Always.
 
“Try me. You can hit me, I’m gon keep coming. Grimy. All a nigga could do is stash doe.”
Max Bigavel
 
“And you liable to see me dolo, ice in the Rolo. Burner under the Polo. A lot of y’all is homos. Funny-style niggas, never down with me. Type to go to the bathroom, sit down and pee.”
Jadakiss
 
In the words of my former coworker and dear friend T. Murphy, “I got nothing.” I was politicking with my ace yesterday and I mentioned I had nothing for this week’s #MNR. Well damn. Yup. I know. I always got something. I guess my always isn’t perennial because I’m fresh outta ideas this time around. No worries. I can always put something together. “It’s just a little something that I had wrote. Put it together.” I took that line from Mic Geronimo, the coolest nigga from the Wasteland of Queens. I loved it because he then proceeded to blow my MF mind. His song “Sharane” off his debut album The Natural is one of the most original songs I’ve ever heard. It’s got the greatest plot twist in rap history outside of “I Gave You Power” by Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones. But yeah. That man Mic Geronimo is a genius. It was good seeing him on Math Hoffa’s My Expert Opinion podcast a little while back. He’s not gone and he’s damn sure not forgotten. That line was smoother than a new Gem Star through tender flesh. Yup, the origin of the buck-fifty. I’m all over the place, right? Good. That means it’s up. 21 Bunkhouse. No rules, no ref. I’m going GWB lower-level tonight. Ignorance and negativity are on deck. Word to my ace.
 
Meth & Red “Da Rockwilder” is tonight’s theme song. I’ll smack the shit out an industry nigga.
 
Respect to my nigga Lil Uzi Vert (yeah, I fuck with some of his work – all my friends are dead), but the Philadelphia anthem remains “Dreams and Nightmares.” Y’all gotta relax. Big ups to my nigga Meek Mill. I’m still a supporter.
 
My nigga Tyrese Haliburton, my third cousin Obadiah Toppin and the rest of the Indiana Pacers had me gassed up during the in-season tournament, gassed to the point I bet my cousin Davonne a dub on the final. Fuck was I thinking? Bron and AD looked good out there. I don’t watch much basketball that isn’t aired on MSG Network before Christmas Day. From then on, I’ll watch a bit more, especially down the stretch post all-star game. But the Lakers look scary. The length (pause if necessary) of their roster is menacing to opposing teams and AD is looking like he wants serious DPOY consideration. We all know their issue: health. If somehow they remain healthy for the duration of the season (without the help of a three-month COVID pause – yeah I said it), it could get dark for the rest of the Association. I’m a tell you the same thing Ray Charles Robinson told Stevland Morris (Stevie Wonder) before he passed...we shall see. Respect to the Los Angeles Lakers, winners of the inaugural in-season tournament. But fuck Bron, AD dem. It’s #KNICKSNATION in this bitch. Bing, bong!
 
I’m looking at the front door.
 
A lot of y’all breath is three steps past horrible. I don’t know what it is that you aren’t doing but figure the shit out. Brush your damn teeth at least twice a day. Use Listerine – the piss-colored Listerine. Keep a pack of Orbit on deck. Please. I smelled a MF breath the other day that sacked my ass like the MF Steel Curtain on a jailhouse blitz. I damn sure would’ve caught a standing eight count if I was boxing. I was on the way to the flo’ (floor). Luckily, I tend to stand in a boxer’s stance for some reason when I’m speaking in proximity to someone. It’s not for physical aggression; it’s to make sure I keep my balance if their breath is trying to catch me slipping with a flash KO. I damn near banged my chin on the desk amidst a sudden bailout. I stepped back with the Garfield eyeballs and took a deep breath. Through the blessings of the Lord, I safely escaped without injury, other than the majority of my nose hair melting and fusing into my inner nose.  
 
I love Black women. I don’t see how you Negroes go out into the community and seek a Caucasian woman. I’m not saying some aren’t attractive. I am saying that brown sugar is the only sweetener I need. I get it. I know what it is. Y’all are afraid of a Black woman’s mouth. Y’all don’t want to hear the real. Y’all want to dominate. Go on ‘head and taste of the forbidden fruit. See if her daddy will allow you in his crib to drink a beer and watch a sporting event. I’m a be smoking a J with my ole girl’s pops, talking shit about the game on television.
 
I pulled a muscle in my back while moving some things on Saturday. I felt it throughout the day yesterday and whenever I moved in the bed throughout the night. I thought it was going to get late early. It wasn’t quite General Hospital theme music, but it could have meant taking a sick day. But, thanks to my Logan/Wolverine-like rapid regeneration, I feel much better. And this is after walking my walk from the Deuce to 29th Street before work, a full day of work and walking back to Port Authority after. I’m a keep it taller than Bol Bol standing on his father’s shoulders. I thought it was the Tylenol Extra Strength I took this morning, but that had to have worn off hours ago. No, I’m certain. It’s my rapid regeneration. I wonder if I can extract Adamantium claws like my boy Wolverine. If so, that’s y’all motherfucking asses. I’m definitely finna set it on Cyclops. Hating ass nigga. Jean Grey wants to fuck with a real one like myself. Not a simp like him. [FADE OUT TO X-MEN 90s CARTOON THEME SONG].
 
I’m high as a Black star of Ghana flag at full mast.
 
Y’all ever went to the bar, got drunk as a church trustee on Saturday night and pissed on yourself at some point on the way home, even after you pissed twice, including right before you left the bar? Yeah, me either.
 
I remember one time when I was a teenager riding the 6 train and a homeless woman squatted her nasty ass and pissed in between moving subway cars. My dumb ass was baffled that her piss stream didn’t reach the third rail and electrocute her cooch. I think she survived the incident. Nasty ass (J. Anthony Brown voice).
 
Now it’s time to say goodbye to all my Negro friends. N-E-G – gee, we’re out of time. Lolololol. This was fun. I had no blueprint, just a J of some good ass kush. I just unlocked the Mac, opened Word and let my fingers go. It’s been real. Go out into the community and sin again.
 
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
crewunb.com: @crewunB on Twitter & @theunbearablescrew on IG

#MNR: NATE, THE GREAT
 
“Cops coming. Shots fired. Babies cried. I cried. Wishing I – could change but – this is just my life.”
Pharoahe Monch
 
“Be – very afraid, I carry a gauge. My new bitch, she get the most cuz she barely complains.”
Benny the Butcher
 
“Just me and you evading enemies, let you get my last shot of Hennessy, ain’t never had a friend like me.”
Makaveli the Don
 
Ardent readers of this weekly blog will attest to my candid nature regarding mental health and my journey through its perils. The mind is so fragile. I’m blessed to say that the past few years have been some of the best of my life. I have my days, but my disposition and outlook have remained positive and upbeat. Yet and still...I have my days. My perpetual wrestling partner is anxiety. Lady A and I have tangoed many a day, many a night. It’s extra shitty for me because she usually comes from no damn where. She, it takes a while to mitigate. I don’t mind the attacks in the privacy of my home. I do mind the public attacks (that almost always happen on the bus). Thankfully, wearing sunglasses is one of the greatest anxiety blockers available. And the hoodie. We all maintain a healthy partnership. They protect me like the Secret Service. Before I get too far off into this, please note that these attacks are few and far in-between. Ironically, that’s what makes them prime Clayton Kershaw curveballs to my overpowered sanity standing helplessly in the batters’ box on the field of mental health. For me...for me personally (Harlem Legend voice), it’s easiest for me to just let the avalanche tumble. Let the floodgates open. Ride the wave. It is what it is. Trying to fight all that emotion only makes it worse. It’s easiest for me to pull a Frankie Ocean on “Super Rich Kids” – close my eyes and feel the crash. Please understand that me speaking on how I cope is in no way undermining the next person’s method(s) of dealing with anxiety. I know that it’s easier for me to just let the emotions flow rather than repeatedly bottle them up until they explode. That’s why I’m super cool with them happening amongst myself. I let it flow. I give it time to run its course. Then I move on. It’s therapeutic for me.
 
When Black Thought said, “Just think, what if you could just, just blink yourself away,” my 15-year-old brain was immediately blown to bits. Wow. Imagine the possibility!  What if you could, in the blink of an eye (0.1/0.2 seconds?), immediately escape your current location and situation/crisis? Every shitty situation could instantly desist at your behest. Imagine the possibilities. Imagine what it could do for mental health. Yeah I know, you have already poked holes in my balloon. But their problems would still be there. They haven’t escaped anything. Monday, shut your dumb ass up (Angry Man voice). I know that, got damn it. But it’s my 15 y/o vision. But skepticism (and reality) aside, what if you could? I’ll tell you what. If you could, life would be ever the more serendipitous. I’m heavy on the reference of 15 years of age because that was a perilous period for my young mind. I was all over the place. I didn’t have anyone to speak freely and candidly with. And back then, mental health was see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil in the Black community. It was especially horrible for the Black boy/young man/man. Any show of emotion meant being soft. Pussy. Gay. Way too many Black males suffered immensely. I was one of them. I masked it. I hid it. I bottled it up. But it never went far away. Many a day I wished I could have just blinked myself away.
 
Sorry, Tyrone. You can’t just blink yourself away. You must remain ten toes down, or at least attempt to. I know, I know. But I am absolutely in favor of seeking the therapy of a mental health professional if need be. Someone very dear to me is doing exceptionally well in their journey. Don’t think I don’t see it. You are amazing. Keep pushing.
 
At some point, you may have wondered why TF I titled my blog what I did and haven’t mentioned anything about a Nate. It’s not NBA legend Nate “The Great” Thurmond. It’s one of my students named Nate. He’s amazing. I wanted to make this blog all about Nate. I was going to explain my journey with him and what we speak on. But that would betray his confidence, and I’m almost certain it would invade his privacy. I’ll leave it at this. I think he’s brilliant in his own unique way. I also think he has a chance to go farther than anyone in the community I serve. So, my classroom captain Lynn and I are going to give him a push. We’re going to spot his every repetition. He’s got a chance to make it. I have faith in him. He has my vote – for President.
 
Happy earth day Brandi. Love you always.
 
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
crewunb.com: @crewunB on Twitter & @theunbearablescrew on IG