So You Think It’s “Just a DEI Hire”? Let’s Talk About the Racism in That Assumption

Here’s a little common sense for you:

If your first thought when you see a Black person in a position of power is “they only got the job because of DEI”, then congratulations — you’ve just said a lot more about your own prejudice than about that person’s qualifications.

Let’s be real for a second. DEI — Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion — has become the boogeyman of the decade. Folks hear those three letters and suddenly think merit went out the window and a participation trophy showed up in a briefcase. But here’s the irony that too many people overlook: for generations, people of color were excluded from positions not because they weren’t qualified, but because they weren’t allowed to be seen as qualified.

So when someone finally breaks through those barriers, the assumption is that they didn’t earn it?

That’s not skepticism. That’s racism dressed up as “concern for merit.”

The Myth of the “DEI Hire”

Let’s unpack what people mean when they say someone was a “DEI hire.” They’re implying that the person was chosen because of their race, gender, or background — instead of their skills or experience. But that logic completely ignores two things:

1. The systemic gatekeeping that’s kept talented minorities out of key positions for decades.

2. The proven fact that marginalized professionals often have to over-deliver just to get noticed.

There’s an old saying — one that every Black professional knows by heart —

“Black people have to be twice as good to get half as much.”

It’s not just a catchy phrase. It’s the reality our parents and grandparents lived through — and it’s still echoing today. Black professionals, especially in corporate America, are often more educated, more experienced, and more adaptable because they had to be. They had to navigate bias, stereotypes, and systems that weren’t built for them — and still outperform their peers.

So, if a Black woman becomes a VP, a CEO, or a university dean, odds are she didn’t get there because of DEI. She got there in spite of the barriers DEI programs were created to address.

The Real Double Standard

Funny thing — when a mediocre white guy gets promoted, nobody questions it. Nobody whispers, “Oh, he must’ve been a NEPOTISM hire,” or “Guess he benefited from white comfort culture.” No, the assumption is always that he earned it. But when a person of color gets that same opportunity, suddenly everyone’s an armchair HR expert, ready to audit their résumé.

That’s not “questioning the process.” That’s revealing bias. Because the standard of proof is different depending on the skin tone of the person being discussed.

DEI Isn’t Lowering the Bar — It’s Removing the Blindfold

The truth is, DEI initiatives aren’t about giving unqualified people a free ride. They’re about forcing companies to take off the blindfold that’s kept them from seeing qualified candidates who don’t look like them. It’s about accountability — making sure opportunities reach those who’ve been unfairly overlooked for generations.

Calling someone a “DEI hire” is like saying a woman in the 1950s only got a job because of “women’s rights.” No, she got the job because she was finally allowed to compete.

Let’s Flip the Script

If anything, we should recognize that many so-called “DEI hires” have faced more scrutiny, more pressure, and more skepticism than their peers. They’ve had to put forth double the efforts just to be considered equal. They’re not the exception to the rule — they’re proof that the rules were rigged in the first place.

So, the next time someone mutters that tired old “DEI hire” line, ask them this:

“Why do you assume that diversity means less qualified?”

Because if diversity threatens your idea of merit, maybe your definition of merit wasn’t that solid to begin with.

Common Sense Conclusion

Let’s use some good old-fashioned common sense. Assuming someone isn’t qualified because of DEI isn’t just lazy — it’s prejudicial. It’s a bias that keeps moving the goalposts for marginalized people no matter how hard they work or how much they achieve.

The world isn’t worse off because workplaces are finally reflecting the people they serve. It’s better — smarter, more dynamic, and more just.

So maybe the next time you see a Black pilot, woman executive, or person of color thriving in their role, don’t assume DEI handed it to them. Assume they earned it — because odds are, they’ve been earning it for a very long time.

When Photos Were Memories—Not Marketing

There was a time—not even that long ago—when a camera only came out for big moments. Birthdays🎂, vacations🏖️, graduations🎓... the kinds of events that made you pause and say, “I want to remember this.”

📚 Back When Photos Lived in Albums, Not Algorithms

Once upon a time, a photograph was a physical keepsake—a glossy print slipped into a plastic page or tucked into a frame on the living room shelf. Those dusty albums in our parents’ and grandparents’ homes? They’re relics of intentional living.

Torn corners. Faded ink. Fingerprints smudged by generations. Each photo was handled, cherished, and revisited not for “likes”… but for longing.  

🏡 Before Social Media, Photos Stayed Inside the Home

There’s an entire layer to this conversation that people rarely acknowledge: 👉 Nobody saw your photos unless they stepped inside your home (or you opened your wallet). If someone wanted to see your memories, they had to flip through your albums while sitting on your couch. These images were private moments protected by proximity.

But today? We upload pictures to social media as if we’re inviting the whole world into our living rooms. 

And here’s the truth: Everyone is not our friend. Everyone should not have access to our lives.

When we post photos online, we’re unintentionally unlocking the front door and saying, “Come on in—here’s everything I’ve been doing.”

That level of unfiltered access isn’t healthy. Not emotionally. Not socially. Not spiritually. We’ve blurred the line between sharing our lives and exposing our lives.

📱 When Cameras Moved Into Our Pockets

Somewhere along the way, something shifted. Cameras stopped being special-occasion devices and became everyday sidekicks. Always ready. Always connected. And with that, the purpose of a photo changed. 

20 years ago, I could see a picture from the past and recall almost everything from the exact moment because photos were rare. Now I have over 2k photos on my phone from the last decade and 95% of them hold almost no real memory at all.

Today, so many pictures aren’t taken to remember a moment—they’re taken to present a moment.

To curate.
To impress.
To collect those little heart icons. ❤️

We capture sunsets, plates of food, or a night out with friends… and instead of savoring the actual moment, we’re refreshing the screen, waiting on validation. And I get it. I was once that person. However, I asked myself one day, "Why are you doing this? For you or for them?"

The photos were already archived on my phone, so why was I sharing it to a public spot with people who didn't ask to see them? Because I wanted to see, "Looks like a great trip!" or "That food looks great!" on my timeline, that's why. I was wanting validation.

🎭 We Photograph Our “Perceived Lives,” Not Our Real Ones

Perfect brunch layouts. Strategically posed selfies. “Candid” laughter that took five tries. It’s a highlight reel—edited and filtered to perfection. And while we’re busy capturing everything…

Are we truly experiencing anything?

Think about it: The warmth of a real conversation. The beauty of nature. The quiet joy of simply being present. These moments often get lost in our pursuit of the “perfect shot.”

🔄 What If We Took Photos for Ourselves Again?

Imagine grabbing your camera or phone—not to impress your followers—but to preserve a feeling.  A memory. A moment that matters only to you and the people in it.

Imagine bringing back the photo album, the framed picture on the nightstand, the simple pleasure of flipping through memories without the shadow of social comparison.

🌿 A Digital Reset Might Save Our Memories

It may be time to step back. To reclaim the photograph as a treasure chest, not a currency. To live moments before we post them. To protect some memories from the eyes of strangers. 

Your future self—the one who’ll look back on your life—will be grateful that you captured real moments, not marketable ones.

Politicians, Media, and the Accountability Illusion

Every few weeks, America is treated to a brand-new political scandal, wrapped in dramatic music, breathless headlines, and commentators acting like the country is about to collapse by lunchtime. A recent example involves Pete Hegseth and the controversy around alleged military wrongdoing. And just like clockwork, the media machine fired up, politicians performed moral outrage for the cameras, and half the country demanded consequences.

You already know how this story ends.

Nothing happens.

Maybe a resignation. Maybe a “strongly worded statement.” Maybe an investigation that drags on long enough for everyone to forget why it started. But actual accountability — firings, prosecutions, real consequences — almost never enters the chat. The system isn’t built to punish its own unless there’s political value in doing so.

Yet every time a scandal drops involving “the other side,” we lose our minds like it’s breaking news that powerful people get away with things.

The Outrage Cycle Is a Feature, Not a Bug

Politicians and media outlets know exactly what they’re doing, because outrage is profitable. Outrage keeps people clicking. Outrage keeps people watching. Outrage keeps people voting against someone instead of demanding real policy from their own side.

And let’s be honest: we fall for it every single time.

We get angry, we share links, we dunk on strangers in comment sections, we treat allegations like convictions — and then act shocked when the accused politician strolls away untouched. Meanwhile, the people stirring the pot quietly move on to the next scandal, the next ratings bump, the next fundraising email.

The truth is uncomfortable: the outrage we produce is the fuel that keeps the whole system running.

Partisan Scandals Are Designed for One Purpose

Not justice.

Not accountability.

Not truth.

They exist to keep us distracted while the same people who hype the scandal keep governing the exact same way they did the day before. The goal is division, distraction, and emotional investment in a political reality show that never ends and never changes.

We’re so busy attacking the politician we hate that we don’t notice everyone in power — on both sides — quietly avoiding any consequences for anything.

Why Do We Still Fall for It?

Because outrage feels like action.
Because fighting online feels like making a difference.
Because we want to believe someone is finally going to be held responsible.
Because it’s easier to get mad than to accept how little the system is willing to change.

But at some point, we have to step back and ask the question that should’ve been obvious years ago:

If political scandals almost never lead to meaningful consequences, why are we letting ourselves be played over and over again?

The Accountability Illusion

The hard truth is that the people with power — politicians, media influencers, cable news hosts, party leaders — are running the same playbook they've always run:

1. Stir the public.

2. Frame the narrative for their side.

3. Keep the anger flowing.

4. Let time pass.

5. Move on when everyone forgets.

Meanwhile, the accused keeps their job, their power, their platform, and sometimes even gains more influence simply because their name stayed in the news.

When the smoke clears, the only people who actually paid a price were the citizens who wasted hours of their lives being emotionally dragged around by people who don’t even know they exist.

What If We Stopped Letting Them Use Us?

Imagine if we stopped giving politicians the emotional energy they feed on.
Imagine if we stopped treating partisan scandals like sporting events.
Imagine if we held our own side accountable with the same energy we use on the side we hate.

Because the truth is simple:

The outrage isn’t the problem.
The outrage without results is.

Until we demand systems that actually punish political wrongdoing, the scandal cycle will keep spinning, the media will keep cashing in, and politicians will keep doing whatever they want.

And they’ll keep playing us… only because we keep letting them.

College Football’s Corporate Crisis

If you ever needed proof that college football has become America in a helmet, look no further than the current coaching carousel. The sport isn’t just a game anymore. It’s a boardroom meeting with mascots. It’s a quarterly earnings call with marching bands. It’s a corporate ladder climb disguised as a playoff race.

And just like real-life America, the folks at the top are doing great. Everybody else… well, enjoy your “valuable life lesson,” kids.

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When Coaches Become CEOs and Players Become Disposable Employees

Head coaches love to sell the dream. Stability. Culture. Brotherhood. All that warm, fuzzy motivational-poster nonsense that was legit four decades ago but evaporates in modern-day times the moment a bigger check slides across the metaphorical boardroom table.

Lane Kiffin looked the University of Mississippi (Ole Miss) players in the eyes, talked long-term vision, and had fans believing he'd be building something for years. Then Louisiana State University (LSU) called, waved a fatter contract loaded with incentives, and suddenly the “future of the program” he sold to teenagers wasn’t his future anymore. And let's not forget some of his assistant coaches that he leaves behind who are suddenly unemployed. Unfortunately, there's no transfer portal for them and there are no relocation fees for their families like what Lane's family received.

He dipped out in the middle of a playoff run. A playoff run! That’s like a CEO announcing he’s leaving the company halfway through the biggest product launch in years because another corporation promised a better health plan and a corner office with windows.

But he’s hardly the only one handing out empty promises like breath mints.

Charles Huff turned Marshall into a 10–3 team… then packed his bags, recruited his favorite players to follow him to Southern Mississippi (USM), and left Marshall looking like someone turned off the lights and took the furniture. USM benefitted, sure… briefly. Then he did what CEOs do best: bounce for a “strategic opportunity” in Memphis and leave another program to sweep up the confetti from his exit. Now USM is looking like the side chick who was left for another side chick.

Programs are left scrambling. Players are left stranded. Fanbases are left confused. Meanwhile, coaches walk away with buyouts big enough to fund a small nation’s infrastructure.

Sound familiar?

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Welcome to Corporate America: The Football Edition!

In the real world, CEOs talk about loyalty and culture, too. They “value their employees” right up until it’s bonus season. Then suddenly half the staff is laid off to “streamline operations” and “ensure long-term growth,” which is corporate for: We needed this money for the executive suite’s annual yacht party.

Coaches are playing the same game.

Players commit to them, not the school. Coaches know it. They use it. And when they leave? They burn the place down on their way out, flipping the light switch off with one hand while grabbing their next signing bonus with the other.

The athletes — the ones juggling academics, pressure, expectations, and now the transfer portal tsunami — get stuck making last-minute decisions like employees waking up to that “This wasn’t an easy decision…” email from HR.

It’s not college sports. It’s capitalism in cleats.

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The Harsh Lesson They’re Learning Early

Are these even “student-athletes” anymore? Depends on who you ask. But one thing is crystal clear: they’re getting a masterclass in real-world power dynamics before they turn 21.

Lesson one:
People with power will promise you the moon right up until they find a shinier moon down the street.

Lesson two:
They’ll call it “opportunity.” You’ll call it “starting over again.”

Lesson three:
They will always — always — do what’s best for themselves, no matter how many people they leave scrambling in the aftermath.

Coaches preach commitment while practicing mobility. They demand loyalty while showing none. They condemn players who enter the portal but celebrate the “vision” of their own career moves. It’s a double standard dressed up in school colors.

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College Football Isn’t Broken. It’s Just Imitating Us.

The sport isn’t chaotic by accident. It’s chaotic because it reflects the country running it.

Corporations reward the people at the top.
College football rewards the people at the top.

Workers get squeezed.
Players get squeezed.

Promises get made. Promises get broken.
Careers get disrupted. Lives get reshuffled.

The scoreboard looks familiar because the game isn’t just football.
It’s America’s favorite pastime: benefitting the powerful while everyone else cleans up the mess.

And until the system changes, the lesson stays the same:

In this country — on the field or in the office — the people in charge will shake your hand, swear they’re committed, and then leave you on read when they see a better offer.

Welcome to the big leagues.

The Narcissism of “Main Character Energy”

Somewhere along the line, self-awareness took a wrong turn and ended up in the land of self-obsession.

You are not a star.

We’ve gone from “know yourself” to “worship yourself,” and social media has been the loudest preacher in that new religion. Every post, every “soft life” vlog, every carefully curated moment is built around the same script: You’re the star, and everyone else is just an extra in your movie.

Cute idea. Terrible mindset.

That whole “main character energy” movement sounds empowering until you realize it’s just dressed-up narcissism. When everyone’s the star, who’s left to clap from the audience? Who’s left to care, to support, or to simply listen? The truth is, that mindset kills empathy—and empathy is the glue that holds communities together.

It's okay to be part of a cast.

You’re not the main character. I’m not either. We’re all part of a bigger story that only works when people play their parts well. Some days you lead the scene, other days you hold the light for someone else. That’s called balance. That’s called humanity.

Good decision-making isn’t just about what feels right for you—it’s about understanding how your choices ripple through other people’s lives. If your whole philosophy centers on you getting yours while ignoring everyone else, don’t be surprised when the world stops clapping (and you start calling people "haters").

You can’t demand respect in a world you refuse to contribute to. And no, you’re not the main character. You’re a member of the cast. Act accordingly.

Whatever Happened to the Love in Christmas?

Remember when Christmas used to mean something? When Jesus was the reason for the season? When the tree wasn’t just an Instagram backdrop, the dinner table wasn’t full of faces lit by phone screens, and the joy of the season wasn’t measured by how many Amazon boxes showed up on the porch? Somewhere between Rudolph and reality TV, Christmas lost its love—and we all just shrugged and scrolled on by. 

🎄 From Charlie Brown to Cheap Laughs

Once upon a time, families would gather around the TV for animated Christmas specials that actually taught something. You didn’t have to be religious to feel the warmth of A Charlie Brown Christmas or Frosty the Snowman. These shows displayed love, meaning, and a sense of togetherness.

Now? Those heartfelt classics are being replaced by celebrity game shows and Christmas “competitions.” Instead of teaching kindness or gratitude, we’re watching who can stack the tallest gingerbread tower or guess the most holiday songs for cash. Nothing says “holiday spirit” like contestants fighting over prizes while commercials remind you to spend more money you don’t have.

💰 Capitalism in a Santa Suit

The holidays used to be about love, reflection, and family. Now it’s about “doorbusters,” “limited drops,” and “buy now, pay later.” Christmas has been hijacked by capitalism in a red velvet suit. It’s no longer a celebration—it’s a sales event.

Black Friday used to be the day after Thanksgiving. Now it’s the week month before. Christmas decorations are in stores before Halloween candy even goes on clearance. And let’s be honest: most people are stressing over how much they have to buy instead of who they’re buying for.

Every year, millions of people go deeper into debt just to “make Christmas special.” But how special can it be when the bills hit in January and the joy turns into anxiety?

📱 The Death of Family Time

Family dinners used to be the centerpiece of the holidays. Now, it’s an exercise in silence—everyone sitting around the table scrolling through TikTok, pretending to be present while mentally somewhere else.

Even watching Christmas movies together has turned into individual screen time. One person’s watching Elf on Netflix, another’s on YouTube watching gift hauls, and someone else is deep in a group chat. The TV used to bring people together. Now, every screen pulls us apart.

🏠 The Divided Christmas

For many blended families, Christmas is a scheduling nightmare. Kids are shuttled from one parent’s house to another like packages in transit. Half of Christmas morning is spent packing, not playing. Everyone’s trying to make the most of their “time,” but it’s hard to find peace when the calendar feels like a custody battle.

It’s not anyone’s fault—life changes, families evolve—but it’s sad that the magic of togetherness often gets lost in the logistics.

🎁 The Entitlement Era

Kids today are growing up in a world where gifts show up all year long—birthdays, random “surprises,” TikTok trends, and “back to school hauls.” So when Christmas rolls around, it’s just another day of unboxing.

When every day feels like Christmas, Christmas stops feeling special. And when gifts become expectations instead of blessings, gratitude gets buried under wrapping paper.

💔 The Hard Truth

The holidays were supposed to bring joy, peace, and love. But now they bring pressure, debt, and disconnection. People are chasing the “perfect Christmas” for the wrong reasons—more likes, better photos, flashier gifts.

Meanwhile, the real spirit of the season—love, gratitude, forgiveness, and family—is quietly fading.

Maybe it’s time to unplug, slow down, and find that spirit again. Because Christmas doesn’t live in store shelves or social media posts—it lives in people. And until we start acting like it, we’ll keep losing the love that made the season worth celebrating in the first place.

Christmas used to fill hearts. Now it fills credit card statements. Let’s change that before it’s too late.

(Happy 19th birthday to my wonderful god daughter, Erin.)

(Happy 33rd anniversary to my brother and his wife.)

We Don’t Argue Anymore—We Perform

Remember when a disagreement was just that—a disagreement? Two people, maybe more, hashing things out over coffee, a kitchen table, or a group text that hadn’t yet turned into a battleground. Back then, the goal was clarity. Understanding. Maybe even compromise. Now? Every disagreement feels like a dress rehearsal for a TED Talk nobody asked for.

We’re not debating to understand—we’re auditioning for validation.

Scroll through any comment section and you’ll see it: folks aren’t trying to make sense, they’re trying to make noise. Every podcast clip, every stitched reaction, every “hot take” is less about truth and more about applause. It’s not “What do you think?” anymore—it’s “Watch me win.” 

We used to argue to sharpen ideas. Now we argue to trend.

And let’s be honest: it’s not about being right—it’s about being seen as right. The loudest voice usually wins, not the wisest one. The algorithm doesn’t reward nuance. It rewards volume. Certainty. Swagger. Even if it’s the dumbest thing anyone has ever seen, heard, or read.

But here’s the thing: strong thinkers don’t need an audience to be right.

They don’t need likes, shares, or followers to make sense. What they need is logic, patience, and humility—the kind of qualities that don’t get you clicks but do earn you respect. The kind of mindset that says, “I’m here to learn, not just to be heard.”

Real maturity shows up when you care more about understanding than winning. At one time understanding was the goal, right?

When you listen without rehearsing your rebuttal. When you can say, “You might have a point,” instead of “You just don’t get it.” That’s grown-folk energy, Church. That’s the kind of conversation that builds bridges instead of burning them.

Because grown folks don’t perform—they process. They listen to gain perspective. 

They don’t argue for show—they discuss for growth. They know that being loud isn’t the same as being clear. That being viral isn’t the same as being valuable.

We just have to start listening again. Not for the applause. Not for the retweets. But for the kind of understanding that doesn’t trend—but lasts. Viral is temporary. Value is forever.

No One’s Coming to Save You (And That’s a Good Thing)

Let’s go ahead and rip the Band-Aid off: No one is obligated to rescue you from the chaos that you have created. 

I know, I know. That sounds harsh and the ladies will hate me after this post. But if you’re here for sugarcoating, you’re on the wrong blog. This is Thank, Q for Common Sense, where I serve reality straight up with no chaser. Just the bitter truth. I'm a life referee and I call it like I see it.

🧹 A Man Is Not Your Mop

There’s a troubling trend I keep seeing among women and it’s time we talk about it. It’s this fantasy that a man is supposed to be the human equivalent of a clean-up crew. Not just Prince Charming, but Prince CPA, Prince Therapist, Prince Financial Planner, and Prince Super-Stepdad. All rolled into one.

Let me be crystal clear: That’s not a partner. That’s a professional life manager. And guess what? They don’t come free, and they’re not signing up to be shackled to your unresolved mess.

It's time that ladies reclaim a partnership with men instead of a transactional one. If you feel like you deserve to have a certain dollar amount spent on you for dinner, then be a professional escort. But if you're truly looking for a significant other, then your focus should be on what kind of guy he is and not what he can spend on you.

🚨 Your Chaos, Your Chore

I’m talking about the women who are drowning in debt, have no clear career path, and are lugging around emotional baggage like it’s designer luggage. Yet they’re out here dating with the unspoken expectation that a man will swoop in and stabilize their lives.

Wanting a partner who’s financially responsible and emotionally mature? There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. That’s called having standards. Expecting him to fix your finances or parent your kids just because he’s dating you? That’s called manipulation and entitlement.

Let’s break it down:

• 💳 Your Debt Is Yours: If you’ve racked up $20K in credit card debt, that’s your tab. Expecting a man to pay it off isn’t romantic—it’s transactional. He’s not your ATM with abs.

• 👶🏾 Your Kids, Your Responsibility: If you’re a parent, that’s your primary job. A good man will respect your children, maybe even love them—but “stepdad” isn’t a title you assign on Date #2. It’s earned, not assumed. He doesn't owe your kids jack until something real has been established.

🧠 The “Rescue Me” Mentality Is a Trap

Here’s the real kicker: this mindset doesn’t just burden men—it keeps women stuck.

When you’re always looking for someone else to fix your life, you give away your power. You become passive, dependent, and ultimately unattractive—not because you have problems, but because you refuse to own them. Guys are natural fixers, but we hate having problems thrown in our faces. Especially from someone who only creates more without solving previous concerns.

But when you bring calm to your chaos? You meet a partner on equal footing. You’re not a project. You’re a whole person. And that’s sexy. That's someone a guy can partner with to get some things done.

🛠️ Common Sense Call to Action

Let’s put it like this:

• 🏡 Get Your House in Order: Before you go looking for love, get your finances straight. Go to therapy. Build a life you’re proud of—one that doesn’t need rescuing.

• 🤝 Date a Partner, Not a Provider: Find someone who complements your life, not someone who’s expected to sustain it. A partner adds value—they don’t fill a void.

• 💁🏽‍♀️ Offer Substance, Not a Project: A woman who’s handling her business isn’t intimidating—she’s irresistible. She says, “I don’t need your resources, but I want your partnership.” That’s power. That's what attracts men who have careers and deters boys who have a PS5 addiction.

Because here’s the truth: Two stable people build a stable relationship. Two half-people just build a mess.

So take the wheel and realize that you’re the hero you’ve been waiting for. You are the solver of your problems. Once you accept your mission then it's all downhill from there. But you have to own it!

What do you think? Have you seen this “rescue me” mindset play out in real life? Drop your thoughts in the comments—let’s talk about it.

When Did Respect Become Negotiable?

There was a time when respect wasn’t up for debate. You didn’t need a blue check, a big platform, or a viral moment—just character. People earned respect by how they carried themselves, not by how many people were watching.

But somewhere along the way, respect turned into a popularity contest. We started confusing attention with value. If someone’s rich, loud, or trending, they get treated like royalty. Meanwhile, decency has to beg for a seat at the table. 

Here’s the truth: respect isn’t about admiration—it’s about acknowledgment. You don’t have to like everyone, but you should respect the boundaries and principles that keep chaos from becoming culture.

We’ve confused attention with value. We’ve mistaken noise for worth. And in doing so, we’ve let the loudest voices rewrite the rules. Respect used to be the floor. Now people act like it’s a reward you unlock after going viral.

But here’s the thing: when respect becomes negotiable, so does every standard that keeps society from spiraling out of control. Manners matter. Boundaries matter. Dignity matters. Not because everyone’s flawless—but because everyone’s human.

So let’s bring back basic respect. Not the performative kind. Not the clout-chasing kind. The kind that doesn’t need a spotlight to show up. The kind that reminds us we’re all sharing the same space—and nobody’s too important to be decent.

Some Things DON'T Need to Be Said

We live in an era where oversharing isn’t just common—it’s encouraged. Social media tempts us to broadcast every detail of our lives, from what we ate for lunch (guilty as charged) to the private arguments we had last night. But dignity, peace of mind, and true self-respect don’t come from putting everything on display.

Some things are better left unsaid. Some things are better left unposted. And if you want to maintain a sense of dignity in a world obsessed with exposure, you’ll need to learn the art of privacy. 

Here are six areas of your life you should always protect:

1. Personal conversations

When someone trusts you enough to confide in you, that’s a bond worth protecting. Repeating private conversations, whether out of gossip or casual oversharing, doesn’t just betray their trust, it damages your reputation. If you want to be known as a person of integrity, learn to hold on to what others share with you in confidence.

2. Being nice to people

Doing good for others is one of life’s greatest joys. But the moment you post it for clout, it’s no longer about the kindness—it’s about your ego. Generosity should come from the heart, not from the hope of likes, retweets, or applause. Quiet compassion carries more dignity than performative charity ever will. And using the excuse "I'm trying to raise awareness to encourage others" is a lie.

3. Your relationship drama

Every relationship has storms. But dragging your personal drama onto the public stage only makes the wounds deeper. Arguments, betrayals, or disappointments should be worked out privately with your partner, a counselor, or trusted confidants. Protecting the privacy of your relationships isn’t just about respect for others—it’s about preserving your own dignity. And if you and that person iron things out and get back together, how are your friends going to react after you trashed your partner and create a bias against them? They probably won't forgive your boo even if you do.

4. Your bank account

Money talks—but sometimes it’s best left silent. Whether you’re struggling to make ends meet or sitting on six figures, your financial situation is yours to manage, not to broadcast. Flaunting wealth can spark envy, while oversharing struggles can invite judgment. Handle your money with humility and responsibility, not as a tool for validation. 

5. Your family issues

Every family has issues. But airing dirty laundry rarely helps. Publicizing family drama creates shame, resentment, and wounds that last longer than the fight itself. Real healing happens in private, where conversations can be raw but also restorative. Family conflicts deserve discretion, not public consumption.

6. Your personal beefs

Nothing drains dignity faster than bitterness on display. Yes, people hurt us. Yes, life is unfair. But parading every grievance makes you look stuck in the past. Resentments are best worked through privately, with reflection, forgiveness, or even therapy. Carrying anger publicly burns your reputation far more than it scorches your enemies. Emotions and logic cannot exist in the same place, so stop allowing "how you feel" make you stupid.

Final Thoughts

Dignity is often less about what you share and more about what you protect. In a world that thrives on oversharing, boundaries are power. When you choose to keep acts of kindness, financial details, relationship challenges, family conflicts, private conversations, and personal grudges to yourself—you gain peace, strength, and respect.

Privacy isn’t about hiding. It’s about holding on to what truly matters. And the more you protect your dignity, the more freely you can live.

When Money Becomes the Matchmaker (or Matchbreaker)

💔 Love doesn’t pay the bills — and sometimes, it doesn’t even survive them.

You know how folks say “love conquers all”? Wait until unpaid bills, bad credit scores, and impulsive shopping sprees show up. So many people have gone on record to say that they have (or would) end a relationship due to financial incompatibility.

Should they be looked down upon because of that?

Why Financial Compatibility Is a Big Deal

Here in the U.S. a lot of people prefer to be financially compatible with their partner, and I'm guessing that a majority of them would say it’s very important. 

Still, it’s no surprise that misaligned values when it comes to finances can derail things. Incompatible partners frequently have issues with their mates:

• Overspending 

• Bad budgeting

• Not saving enough (if at all)

• Not making enough money

A lot of people raise an eyebrow to those who may inquire about finances in the relationship, but at some point, it's something that needs to be discussed. Can you support me? Or will you bring me down? It matters.

Generation Gap + Money Fights = Trouble

Here’s a twist: younger generations seem more likely to battle over money. Millennials and Gen Z report more frequent money fights than older couples from what I've read in a couple of articles. Also, men are more likely than women to claim they fight often about money.

Another surprise: a lot of young couples (and a few older ones) avoid talking about money altogether. And that's because they know that their views don't align with their partners. Rather than get on the same page and handle the household as a unit they choose to withhold information to not be seen as a liability. After all, them doing what they want to do is more important than unity so "quiet is kept".

But guess what — silence is dangerous.

Talking Money Isn’t Optional — It’s Essential

Here’s some “Q wisdom” (I just made that up) to live by if you want your relationship to survive:

1. Don’t ambush your partner.
   Surprise financial interrogations never go well. Let your partner know ahead of time you want to talk money. 

2. Make it a chat, not an audit.
   You don’t have to dump all account statements on the table right away. Start with attitudes, priorities, dreams. (“If you won $1 million, what’s the first thing you’d do?” is a great icebreaker.) 

3. Expect disagreement.
   You will see things differently. That’s okay. What matters is how you negotiate those differences — with patience, respect, and openness.

4. Watch for refusal.
   If your partner shuts down the talk or refuses entirely, that’s a red flag. You can’t build trust or shared goals if one side holds back. You may be on your way to a "money fight".

5. Revisit financial alignment periodically.
   People change. Goals shift. What felt compatible at 30 years old might feel suffocating at 35. Keep the conversation ongoing.

Bottom Line (see what I did there?)

Money is one of those things that touches everything — and in relationships, it can either be a solid foundation or a hidden fault line.

If you want your love to last, talk money early, talk money often, and talk money without judgment. Align enough on values and behaviors so that when storms come (and they will), you’re paddling in the same direction.

And if you’re ever wondering whether your partner is “the one” — see if you can talk openly about finances, without defensiveness, before you get too invested emotionally. That one conversation might save a lot of heartache.

The Problem With Modern Parenting

Parenting in today’s world often looks very different from the past. Many parents think they’re setting their children up for success, but in reality, some modern parenting habits may be leaving kids unprepared for the challenges of adulthood. From over-scheduling to over-protecting, parents may be unintentionally stunting their children’s growth.

It’s common today to see parents doing almost everything for their kids. Instead of encouraging independence, many parents swoop in at the first sign of struggle. Children aren’t expected to problem-solve on their own, and as a result, they miss out on the confidence and resilience that come from overcoming obstacles. 

When I was growing up, I spent afternoons playing with neighbors, navigating social conflicts naturally. Now, most interactions happen in structured, adult-supervised environments—whether it’s sporting activities, music lessons, or whatever after-school program comes to mind. While these activities can be cool, they shouldn't replace the unstructured play that teaches kids how to negotiate, compromise, and build real friendships. "Arranged" friendships shouldn't be the only form of building camaraderie.

And what's even more tripped out is that many kids today have busier schedules than their parents. Between soccer, gymnastics, and band practice, children are shuffled from one activity to another. Instead of mastering one skill or learning the value of focus, they dabble in everything. For parents, this becomes a way to maintain control while still being able to say, “My kid is active.”

Chores, early mornings, and uncomfortable tasks are often avoided in modern households. Yet, these small challenges build discipline and responsibility. When children never face discomfort at home, they’re unprepared for the uncomfortable realities of adult life. Whether it’s waking up for a job, handling awkward social situations, or bouncing back from rejection.

Parents can’t sit in on job interviews (although many have) or make sure their kids get to work on time forever. When children grow up sheltered and dependent, they enter adulthood without the skills needed to navigate it. This often leads to entitlement, lack of accountability, and even parents stepping in well into their child’s adulthood.

And to top it off, a lot of parents are raising kids solo. So that makes it twice as hard to prepare your child for adulthood. 

Many parents embrace the mindset: “I’ll give my child everything I never had.” But maybe the better mindset is: “I’ll teach my child everything I was never taught.” Kids need discipline, independence, and real-world preparation—not just opportunities and material comforts.

Parenting with love and protection is important but so is preparing kids for life outside the home. The goal isn’t to raise a child who is merely “active” but to raise an adult who is capable, confident, and independent. 

Because, God forbid, if you die, then how would your child survive without you? A lioness doesn't feed her cub until its full-grown. It only does it until the cub is old enough to go hunting with her to learn. Birds don't feed their babies until they are full-grown. Some will even push their kids out of the safety of the nest to teach them to fly.

If the animals in the wild have it figured out, then why is it so hard for humans to grasp the concept of "preparation" over "pampering"? Stop trying to be a friend and be a parent. It's the job you signed up for.

I’ll Never Be the “Cool Old Guy” And It Sucks

I’m 53 years old, and it finally hit me... I’ll never be "cool" in the eyes of young people.

When I was growing up, things were different. Older people were respected, even admired. My uncles, my elders, and even the older guys down the street had a kind of authority. They carried wisdom, life experience, and a quiet confidence that made them role models in a way. To me, they weren’t “out of touch”. They were legends. OGs.

But somewhere along the way, that changed.

Today, the younger generation doesn’t look at people my age with respect or curiosity. Instead, they often dismiss us as outdated, irrelevant, or even annoying. We’re not mentors. We’re “has-beens.” And no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be the “cool old guy” that my ancestors were to me.

When I think about my childhood, I realize why my elders had so much respect. Back then it was harder to get knowledge. Outside of an encyclopedia or a library, you were stuck. If you wanted to learn something, you had to ask someone older or more experienced.

Back then tradition mattered. Culture and family history were passed down through stories, and elders were the keepers of those stories. Family stories rarely get passed down today as they did back then. And when you factor in so many blended families in society that we have now, it's even more rare to keep up with family history.

Back then patience was taught. Life wasn’t so fast-paced. People slowed down to listen and genuinely had interest in what you had to say most of the time. And even if they weren't interested, somehow what was being said still stuck somewhere in their mind to be retrieved later.

In short, older people had something that young people needed. Not anymore.

Fast forward to now, and everything has flipped. Information is everywhere. So much of it is probably not true, but verification isn't important in present-day America. With Google, TikTok, and YouTube, young people don’t feel they need to ask anyone for guidance.

Fast forward to now, and even the trends don't last long anymore. I thought my uncles were cool in their 70's clothing but fashion rarely lasts a decade now. By the time something catches on, the next wave has already started.

Fast forward to now and getting older isn't aspirational anymore. Instead of looking forward to maturity, youth culture glorifies staying young forever. To be fair, people my age tend to enjoy the youth culture a little too much as well. Maybe that's where some of the lack of respect comes from, huh? (Message!)

It hurts to admit, but I’ve noticed it in my own life. I walk into a room of young people, and instead of being seen as someone with stories to tell or lessons to share, I’m seen as outdated background noise.

The cruel irony is this: I really wanted to grow into one of those wise, cool elders I once admired. But the role doesn’t even exist anymore—not in the way it used to. I wanted to be the guy who pointed "finger guns" towards a guy and said, "watch out there now, young fella!"

Well, maybe not to that extreme, but you get my drift.

Still, maybe there’s another side to this. Maybe being “cool” to young people shouldn’t be the goal. Maybe it’s enough to pass down values, even if they don’t seem interested now. My goddaughter is 18 years old, and she listens to me still. We'll see how long that lasts. Her brother pretty much stopped at 20 years old, but I still think that he gets what I'm saying most of the time.

Maybe it’s about leading by example, showing resilience, patience, and grace. That's always easy, right? Just exist and keep doing what I've been doing, and it will be recognized.  I can always hope.

Maybe the respect comes later, when they’re older and finally understand. Only time will tell. Maybe I won't be too senile to recognize it if it does.

Because deep down, I know my uncles weren’t “cool” because they tried to impress anyone. They were cool because they were authentic, grounded, and unapologetically themselves. And that's all I ever strive to be. The best version of me that I can offer the world.

I'll never be the “cool old guy", and it sucks. But maybe coolness is overrated. What lasts longer than cool is character. And while they may not see it now, one day they might look back and recognize the value of the people they once brushed aside.

Until then, I’ll keep living my life with the quiet dignity my elders showed me. And who knows? Maybe one day, when the noise of youth fades, wisdom will matter again.

Government Shutdown: Why Are We the Ones Being Grounded?

Here we go again. The government can’t get its act together, and guess who ends up suffering? Not the senators. Not the congressmen or women. Not the people collecting checks for showing up to argue on the 24-hour news networks. Nope. 

It’s us. 

The taxpayers. The citizens. The people just trying to live our lives without needing a freaking PhD to understand why our government keeps wetting the bed when it comes to basic functionality.

We’re watching Democrats and Republicans lock horns again. And neither side wants to appear weak. Meanwhile, air traffic controllers, TSA agents, and other federal employees are being told to show up and work for free. FOR FREE!!!

Think about that for a second. The people responsible for keeping airplanes from crashing above our heads are clocking in without paychecks. Would you show up to your job every day, on time, and focused, if you weren’t getting paid? Didn’t think so.

Now, many are calling in sick and who can blame them? That’s not laziness. That’s human nature. The result? 

• Shortages and flight delays across the country. 
• Travelers are stranded. 
• Businesses are losing money. 
• Families are missing connections. 

All because the people we elected to represent us can’t manage to pass a budget without turning it into a political hostage situation. 

And here’s the part that really runs me hot: why is our system designed this way? Why do regular people get punished when politicians fail to do their jobs? If the government can’t function, then it should be their paychecks that stop first, not ours. Why should families go without? Why should essential workers suffer? All because Washington wants to play a game of “chicken” with the nation’s wellbeing?

Then there’s the issue of how they vote. Why are they packaging hundreds of bills together and voting on them as one giant lump sum? If a bill is good enough to stand on its own, then vote on it individually. But they don’t. Because lumping it all together gives both sides cover. They can say, “Well, I didn’t want to vote against [insert good policy], but it was attached to [insert bad policy].”

That’s not governance. That’s manipulation. 

And to think that we keep putting these same people in office simply because they have a "D" or an "R" by their names. That means we're part of the problem, too. We want our party to win even if it means that "we the people lose." SMH.

And finally, the question no one in Washington wants to ask: if the people we elect can’t find common ground, why don’t we get to break the tie? If Congress can’t decide, put it to the people. Let us vote on the key issues. If this is supposed to be a government “of the people, by the people, for the people,” then maybe it’s time we started acting like it.

Until then, we’ll just keep getting grounded—literally and figuratively—while they argue over who gets the window seat in first class.

I once saw a quote that said, "A system that punishes the people for its own incompetence isn’t broken—it’s built that way."

Truer words have never been said.

Thanks to my friend, Angela Marino of Texas, for inspiring this post. 

People Lie A Lot

Not all lies are based on scams and infidelity.  Some people lie because of their pride.  As I've gotten older, I see that more often than anything else these days.  I'll give you two examples:

Men tend to do it to prevent from looking naive.  Some guys will act as if they "know-it-all" to impress you rather than admitting that they could use some help with whatever that they are doing.  Example: A guy I know started a podcast.  I've been podcasting for over a decade.  I know that the type of podcast that you wish to have and the frequency that you plan on doing it can determine what kind of setup you may need.  When he told me his plan, I told him to reach out to me if he needed some insight or advice purchasing equipment.  He told me that he had it figured out and did his research and knew exactly what he wanted to buy.

He spent almost $1300 for his podcasting equipment for something that fizzled out in less than a month.  Then he asked me if I wanted to buy any of his equipment.  I told him, "No.  I'd never spend that much on equipment in the first place unless I was making my podcast a full-time job."  His pride made him lie to me in the beginning when he said that he knew what he was doing when he didn't.  And that was a very expensive lesson to him.  I'm not saying that I'm an expert, but I do have experience, and sometimes two heads are better than one.

Women lie for pride's sake, but for different reasons.  I once worked with a young lady who would participate in relationship discussions with us in the break room from time-to-time.  She always bragged about how she is just "doing her" and isn't paying men any attention.  She said that she was abstaining from sex and would make the next man wait because "she knew her worth".  She was always the most vocal whenever we participated in the conversations.  No man was ever going to get over on her!

Well, to this day, she doesn't know that I knew the guy that she was sleeping with at the time.  Ms. Abstinence actually had a restraining order against her for stalking him and his girlfriend.  He'd already bragged to me prior to my break room conversations with her that he'd slept with her a few times and she wouldn't leave him alone and she ultimately started harassing his woman.

All while she was telling us how she was "this and that" every day, dude was passing his phone around regularly showing nude pics of her. It made me feel badly for her to wonder how many people knew she was lying about how she "handles" men.

Look, we all lie.  But it's more to it than doing so to get out of trouble these days.  Social media tends to influence some of us to appear a certain way that we're not in real life.  How many times has someone that you know very well posted something that you knew wasn't true?  More than you can count?

Guys, it's okay to say, "I don't know" instead of acting like you know what you're doing and costing yourself time and money.  Tell someone "I need your help" with something and learn to take instructions sometimes.

Ladies, you may want to reconsider some of the things you claim you do or don't do with guys because guys talk more than ever these days.  There is no longer a code that guys live by.  Don't have these guys fool you into thinking that they don't "kiss and tell" and have you looking stupid in these streets.

It's time for all of us to be adults and to stop lying.