Fatlock Follies: Hugh Hefner's Gift, Stellar Literary Journalism and Burnt Ends on Bun

Today being Tuesday, we typically come at our readers with a little weekly installment called "Tradition Tuesday." I opine that it's one of our better features, and it typically starts with a sentence that goes something like, "The rough focus of this blog is the rivalry between the Kansas City Chiefs and the Denver Broncos." I write that. Old No. 7 writes that, and someday maybe Cecil will, too. It's a true statement. And I posit that, to paraphrase Seven, the rough philosophy of this blog is to crack wise. We attempt to cover sports, and be funny doing it, and that's the nature of the House of Georges. From time to time, however, we take a serious stance. It's not something we intend to make a practice of, by any means. Race in America, is a serious issue, perhaps the most of them all. This post will attempt to analyze Jason Whitlock's article "The Black KKK" in this month's issue of Playboy. Last month, I wrote a reactionary post (Editor's Note: The post got me in a bit of hot water with both my colleagues and a few readers) to a Whitlock column in The Kansas City Star.

The column warned Star readers that the forthcoming article had been unjustly titled by Playboy Editorial Director Christopher Napolitino and his colleagues. While I found it odd -- not an uncommon opinion of mine regarding Whitlock -- that he would devote local sports-page column inches to preempt a literary piece in a national publication, I did agree with his general consensus. Whitlock was told by the editors that the title would stick, there would be an equally inappropriate sub-heading to it, and that this was the first of several attempts by the magazine to, in a sense, sensationalize, or get reader attention via bold and daring, if even unrelated, headlines. While it'd be much easier to crack wise about Tiger Woods' opinion on hockey, or whine about Mixed Martial Arts ratings trumping Stanley Cup Finals ratings, the issue has been out for a number of weeks now, and today, finally, I'll attempt to break it down.

But first, an anecdote regarding the (non-online) purchase of pornography in the year 2008. Circa 1989, I, still too young to drive, rode my 10-speed to the neighborhood bookstore. I had for some time been infatuated with the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues, and, in my infinite wisdom, decided that the scantily clad no longer satiated my hormonal needs; I wanted the real thing. At the magazine shelf -- a mere eight feet from the checkout counter -- I, lacking everything in the department of sly, stuffed an issue of Playboy inside an issue of Rolling Stone and attempted to purchase (Note: See also, steal) the latter. To this day, I'm grateful that the cashier on duty was a dude not much older than me, one who perhaps recognized my plight. Our conversation went something like:

Cashier: (flips Rolling Stone open right to the spot where the Playboy was) You, uh, want to buy this one, too?
Young Bankmeister: (with quarts of adrenaline, tweaked nerves, cracking voice) Yes, please.

He rang me up, and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Thanks, dude, for not alerting the local law enforcement officials.

Twenty years later, materials of this nature are -- this just in -- readily and plentifully available, for free, at the click of a mouse. That is, the images are. If you want the articles, you gotta by a hard copy. When Whitlock's column in the Star came out, I was certain he said it'd be on the stands on May 9. So I scooted down to the 7-11, and asked the young girl behind the counter if they had the latest issue. She gave me that sweet-request-you-creep look, and retrieved it. I, fumbling and awkward, said that I wanted it for the Whitlock article, and anxiously perused the contents listed on the cover. She didn't understand, and with a semi-fearful look, gazed at her male co-worker (equally young) who muttered something about recognizing Whitlock's name. She then produced a Penthouse and asked if that was the one I wanted. It was roughly the most uncomfortable three minutes of my life. And naturally, when I got home, the article was not there. It was, however, advertised in the "Next Month" section at the back.

Sweet. Guess who was working when I revisited the 7-11. Same girl. Same awkward request. Same awful transaction, one resulting in a, "Have a good night." It was like six in the evening, and I wanted to tell her that my plans for the evening were in fact deeper than a 15-minute date with the magazine, and that she couldn't fathom how odd this was, given the Internets, but I hustled out of there, somewhat the same 15-year-old on a 10-speed. So there's that. Back to the article.

In a nutshell, the piece is awesome. Whitlock went to California and researched government dollars, statistics and effects of incarceration, and theorized that the movement of mass imprisonment is -- and I paraphrase here -- the root of gang behavior, activity, and mentality in the United States today. Of course that's a loaded statement, one that takes time to process, and formulate a response. It's important to note here that I am white, Jason Whitlock is black, and a large portion of the folks he writes about in this particular piece are black and Hispanic. If I had one wish in the world, and the endless-supply-of-cash-hookers-and-cocaine wish was not allowed, I would wish for it not to be important that I announce my ethnicity. I mean, it's important to a degree, I guess, but it'd be nice to be able to have an opinion about an important issue, and accept that opinion as one from a person about people, but that is likely all-too-utopian.

Whitlock kicks the piece off by mentioning an organization of which I had never heard: the California Correctional Peace Officers Association (CCPOA). He mentions them because, according to his findings, they are one of the most powerful entities in the state. There are 180,000 people in California jails. Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger's most recent correctional facilities budget calls for $9 billion in incarceration expenses, and his solution is to release some 11 percent of those prisoners to cut those costs, but, "Prison guards run the state, and they have no interest in fewer bodies to supervise," he writes. The author next mentions a person that, until I read, was unknown to me: Julian Mendoza (Note: Links are not biographical in nature, but columns of his from the Amer-I-Can -- a Jim Brown-founded organization that aims to "change one's life and help him or her to become a contributor to a better community and ultimately, a better nation" -- newsletter.).

Whitlock attends a Mendoza speech at a locked-down youth camp, one the speaker has frequented more than weekly for over 10 years, and the theme of the delivery is fear, a concept he tells the "brown and black boys" "why you're here...why you come back...why you won't change." Later in the piece, Whitlock returns to the topic of Amer-I-Can, but at this point in the piece, he takes a political stance.

"For the first time in our history we are seriously wrestling with the idea of electing a black man to the nation's highest office...The mixed-race man who is best qualified on day one to fight domestic terrorism and explain to white America why it's in everybody's best interest to disarm, convert and rehabilitate the Crips, Bloods and Mexican Mafia members in our prisons hasn't addressed the topic, because he runs the risk of being labeled too nonwhite."

Whitlock tells us, via a pastor from a South Central L.A. church that this is not a topic for Barack Obama to focus on, as it would "scare off too many Caucasian voters." He then brings us back to the theme of fear, and cites two studies in doing so:

"*One in every 100 American adults resides behind bars.
*One out of every nine black men between the ages of 20 and 34 is incarcerated.
*Hispanics outnumber all other ethnic groups in prison.
*America incarcerates 800,000 more people than China and nearly three times as many people as Russia.
*If current rates of incarceration remain unchanged, 28.5 percent of black men will be confined in prison at least once during their lifetime."

All of this, Whitlock says, can be traced back to fear. It's fear of crime, and allowing that fear, coupled with the drug war, to "rule our criminal-justice policies." This duo, he adds, facilitates gang life behind bars, and transcends the incarcerated, into the families and neighborhoods of loved ones. Whitlock portends that, for every man in jail, there is a network of loved ones that suffer with him, and with the ever-growing number of incarcerated, "it is not at all surprising that black youth culture -- music, communication, appearance, attitude, parenting and socializing -- reflects values associated with surviving while incarcerated." He notes that values like sagging pants and child abandonment are "driven by a mentality refined behind prison walls and celebrated, exploited and promoted by the music industry and Hollywood.

He intelligently reminds us that it is a great variety of Americans, not just blacks and Hispanics, that, to varying degrees, have embraced the hip-hop/prison culture, and done so having overlooked consequences that materialize in the form of violent death, disrespect, and hatred. He also argues that this issue has spread into the ranks of government and politics as something that "tears at the patriotic fabric necessary to sustain a free nation." Movies, video games, a frightening hunger for money and fame, Whitlock writes, have skewed the priorities of many Americans, and the prison system is to blame. He speaks with Gerald Harris, a retired Department of Corrections administrator about how to fix the prison situation in California. During the course of three decades at his post, Harris watched the California prison population not double, not triple, but octuple.

Part of that increase, Whitlock says, is a result of those imprisoned for non-violent crimes, even if they are third-time felons, a conviction of which lands one a mandatory 25-year sentence, and was cultivated by former Governor Pete Wilson's three-strikes bill against criminals. Also during Harris' time in office, 20 new facilities were erected, and the state's corrections budget hit the number it's at now, and increase from $300 million. Additionally, the construction of those prisons largely overshadowed the addition of one university to the state of California.

Back to the CCPOA: it's 30,000 strong, and commands a pay rate more than double that of the national average. The salaries tower over those of teachers, and in cases where a worker logs more than 40 hours in a week, they can hit the hundred-thousand mark. Some, Whitock adds, earn more than the governor himself. More frightening than wages, though, is the political power the organization holds. Allegedly, millions of dollars are spent on political candidates, and efforts to thwart their stronghold are often, if not always, squashed. The current governor had even appointed a prison specialist to breakdown the fierce force of the CCPOA. He lasted two years before stepping down due to alleged intimidation.

Whitlock quotes former Chief of Education and Inmate Programs for the state D.O.C., and she claims that the CCPOA does in fact run the prisons. She talks of large numbers and piles of dollars that keep them in place, and continuously provide new employment. "It is the most powerful union I have ever seen in my lifetime," Wanda Briscoe says. There is even speculation that altercations in the prisons are provoked by guards; fighting and riots mean more wages for the guards, as overtime dollars are deemed necessary to keep the prisoners at bay, and one source in the story goes so far as to say that guards will intentionally pit Mexican and black gangsters together, knowing the likely outcome. And it gets worse. Further speculations suggests that organized crime in prison benefits all parties involved, that there is coincidence in the high cost of legal representation, and the desire to keep prison labor -- allegedly more valuable/desired than that of illegal immigrants -- in high demand.

Then there is the outside, a world in which the previously incarcerated and the probationed, are persuaded to maintain the gang-related behaviors they learned in prison. Whitlock's article suggests that the behavior is somewhat unavoidable on the inside; many try to mind their own business upon incarceration, then trouble hits, sides are selected, and survival becomes the first and foremost mindset. On the outside, the assignment is (frequently) to kill a member of the opposing side, behaviors glorified by groups like N.W.A., and artists like Snoop Dogg and Tupac Shakur. It all translates, Whitlock says, to the streets, and more specifically, the schools, where teacher safety equates to how those teachers treat their children.

Whitlock spoke with Professor Emeritus of Psychology at UC-Berkeley Harry Edwards, who offered the following:

"The values and perspectives of hopelessness spawned in society are intensified inside prison walls and then are revisited upon the community," Edwards says, which almost makes the schools replicas of the prisons. "The very vehicle -- education -- that is supposed to give kids hope is now an extension of the prison system...You can't teach when you're worried about safety. You can't learn when your primary concern is safety."

There, then, are many facets of the problem(s), and Whitlock nominates Jim Brown as the best candidate to take charge of the solution. He says that Brown's program has 20 years of experience in dealing with relationships of folks in many of these circumstances, that Amer-I-Can is a starting point. He interviewed Brown, who told him, "I've never talked a man out of a gang. That's not what we do. We talk people out of doing gang criminal activity." Brown tells Whitlock that their successes have come via education, often times within the prisons themselves.

Perhaps even more profound is a statement from a former cop and juvenile-prison chaplain. "There's no stigma when you go to jail," says Bishop Hendricks. "When I was growing up the family was embarrassed. When you went to jail it was a mind-boggling experience. Nowadays going to jail is a badge of honor."

And then Whitlock brings Mendoza back into the piece, the notion of the paroled being banned from associating with gang members and neighborhoods acting as a one-way ticket back to prison. "You're basically telling guys," Mendoza says, "(d)on't go home and don't associate with your family."

There is the philosophy of doing just that, too. A quote from the story suggests that the corruption and violence within the prisons forces intelligent inmates to disassociate with friends and loved ones, as refusing to think about them fosters honed survival mentalities, and not discussing or being visited by them keeps sacred information away from dangerous fellow inmates.

Whitlock closes the piece by offering his own suggestions of how to make the situation better. And it is just that: a situation. A major one. A lot of this information -- the gang activity and violence in the streets -- has been portrayed in many films and rap lyrics. It's what's on the inside -- behind the bars -- that hasn't, a notion Whitlock suggests gave birth to the more-recognized streets aspect of society. He wants it to change, and he is not alone.

At the beginning of this post, I said I'd analyze his article, and I've changed my mind, to an extent. Before writing this, I finished reading it for the third time in 10 days, and the information is there, concise, yet rattling in my cage. Whitlock has taken the time and energy to do the research, and put his findings to the page. In lieu of analysis, I'm left with the desire to question three things. Here, perhaps, is where it's important that I noted my demographic, and here, most certainly, is where I commend Whitlock on a job well done. But I question, nevertheless:

1) Why is the focus of education and rehabilitation starting with the imprisoned, the already-criminally labeled? Why not harness the knowledge, perhaps the focus of Amer-I-Can, and use it to at least try and keep folks out of prison in the first place?

2) How can this many people know, and share information regarding such knowledge, about the corruption within the California prison system, and more specifically the CCPOA? Aren't there dozens of television programs on every day of the week wherein scandals -- for lack of a better word -- are exposed and duly addressed?

3) In the post I linked to in the beginning, I suggested that Whitlock transition into a new role, perhaps that of role model. He has, in his Star columns, and to a lesser degree in this article, said that good black male role models are scarce. And as I've said, I agree. Can't a man of his stature and success take on such a role? If not, can't he be a liasion for role models, a contractor and contactor of folks?

I believe he A-Meri-I- Can.