Confessions of a Pseudo e-Revolutionary

A few months ago, I was watching The Colbert Report when Stephen Colbert said something that struck a nerve. A couple of days after Andrew Meyer's imbecilic "Don't Tase Me, Bro" incident made headlines, Colbert brilliantly referred to the apathy of the students who bore witness to the spectacle as "solitarity" and skewered the current generation of conscientious objectors as slackers who equate blogging with authentic activism.

Try as I might, I still haven't managed to jettison Colbert's criticism from my thoughts. Frankly, I think this is because I mostly agree with him. These days, as I begin my gradual slide into Pater Familias complacency, I look back on the righteously angry youth that I was and ask myself, "What happened?"

There comes a time in a man's life when he must simply face the fact that, if he hasn't completely sold out, he has certainly bought in. For me that time is now. Sometime between Public Enemy's ascent and Soldier Boy's current domination of the airwaves, a defeated worker drone with a burgeoning pot belly replaced a molotov cocktail throwing Marxist. The 17-year-old version of myself wouldn't spit on the current me if I were on fire. So humor me if you will while I list a few of the reasons why I'm no longer eligible for membership in the Black Panther Party.

1) I like Elvis. I know, I know. He appropriated black musicality. He's alleged to have said, "The only thing black people can do for me is buy my music and shine my shoes." And while it is highly unlikely that he ever did utter that phrase, he is the predominant symbol of how black Rock and Roll was co-opted by greedy, soulless white record executives. Still, despite my best intentions, I like the dude's music. Always have. For sake of disclosure, I also like Elton John, Frank Sinatra, and Johnny Cash. Wait. It gets worse..

2) I don't like The Roots. This one stings because I often lament the dearth of unsampled music and genuinely talented mcs in current hip hop. And, while I recognize Black Thought as a gifted lyricist and the Roots as a legitimate band, their albums just leave me cold. I've tried (believe me) to like each of their releases beginning with the oft-lauded Things Fall Apart. It hasn't worked. It probably wouldn't work if I listened to Game Theory in North Philly with a cheesesteak in my hand wearing a backpack and an okayplayer t-shirt. By and large I find this regrettable.

3) I have several relatively close friends who are white Republicans. Why is this you ask? Because they're decent, respectful people. As I've admitted before, I tend to prefer them over their liberal counterparts. When we first started hanging out, they would diligently describe to me the wonders of the conservative universe and I would unfailingly describe to them how full of shit they were. Now we occasionally get together to discuss sports and resume building over black Russians. To my compromised mind, this is progress.

4) I'm infinitely more exhausted than I am angry these days. I, like many people, am besieged from every angle by so many obligations that I can't imagine fighting any form of power anywhere. Whenever unrefined bigotry issues forth from the mouth of some random dummy I just feel like taking a nice nap. I do not see this changing any time in the near future.

5) Finally, and perhaps most tellingly, I like shopping. I enjoy buying a nice pair of slacks and the joy that I receive from finding a good deal must be akin to what a ragged, desperate prospector felt when he washed mud away from his first gold nugget. But that's not all. I also tend to think of myself as an extremely fashionable guy. I own a great number of shoes, Project Runway is one of my favorite television programs and I anxiously look forward to season four. The seed for this disgusting tendency toward consumerism was planted long ago when a pretty girl told me she liked my outfit one day. "Nice clothes," I thought, "must make the girls like you." Over the years, the seed has sprouted into a Redwood.

To those legitimate rabblerousers among you who assumed you were in good company, I offer my humblest apologies. Although my inner black panther has not been fully usurped by a corporate fat cat I fear that it is only a matter of time. Do yourselves a favor and make a clean break from me now. I do not share Michael Vick's optimism. It is unlikely that I will redeem myself.