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Me Myself&I

Kobe

I never gave a fuck about Kobe at first. He was a brat copying/pasting MJ far too much and who had the chance to have a once in a lifetime basketball center recovering his misses.

Then, the trial. I felt like that was on par with the brat personality.

Now I live in LA and Kobe is finishing up his career, kind of killing the Lakers chances of landing good players because of his contract. I read more about him. The good things he does, how his loyalty to the Los Angeles Lakers is perceived. His impeccable work ethic.

It’s a whole mess. I can’t forget what he did and I can’t condemn kids looking up to him. It’s a whole mess. We have Diddy, Kevin Hart and Jay Z talking about “to us” like they’re damn role models. They are, for too many black men. It’s a whole mess. Terry Crews completely turning his back on black women in one little TV segment like wtf. It’s a whole mess. The need for black role models is excruciating. Charlamagne, Kanye, Drake? Please. It’s never been that bad. I miss you Prince. It’s a whole mess.

So losing one of the less-worse role model hurts. It also hurts to see how few good examples there are for black men out there. Kobe’s tragic death highlights this with the brightness of a 6,000 kW-powered LED.

Then, there’s the eerie fate, the weird karma of super-rich people who don’t give a fuck about doing what nobody else can do that is, be at different places in “not possible” time, thanks to ludicrous amount of gas being burned (have you been close to an helicopter landing? Nasty fuel smell a hundred meters away). Extremely wealthy people thinking that they’re smart flying in a capsule propelled by rotors going really fast, in a fog thicker than mashed potatoes.

A week later, the sky is blue as hell.

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