If some of your biggest accomplishments and fondest memories are from high school, you probably peaked too soon.

Word is, rapper Jay-Z has decided to ban the word “bitch” from future lyrics after the birth of his daughter. To that I say:

Jay, that was a real bitch move.

Let’s play the stereotype statistics game. Hip Hop, the majority of which is performed or penned by men. A big part of most male MC’s persona is toughness. Which based on some of their backgrounds, much like my own, tends to defines you as a man. At least to other men. What’s interesting though is that these men, also like myself, are often raised by women. Mothers, aunts, big sisters and grandmothers.

Our cultural plight aside, most MC’s from the start offer nothing but love and kind words to the women in their lives that have made them who they are. But bitches, well they don’t get shit. No respect. No love. Just some minimum wage dancing gigs on the latest video shoot.

So not only as Noah Mittman points out:

So Jay-Z learns that “bitch” is disrespectful to women after having a daughter, but not after getting married…

Not even his mother, who bought him his first Boom Box was enough of a strong female figure to make him avoid the word “bitch” in his lyrics and every day speak. Though I doubt fatherhood is the cause for his new found respect for woman as a whole. It’s just principle, and that’s ok. My issue is just that we celebrate the epiphany rather than resolve the root cause of the problem.

For what it’s worth, wouldn’t it be funny if the whole story/rumor turned out to be made up. Created by an aggressive Women’s Rights campaign. I’d find that so much more entertaining, and yet even that would be a bitch move.

My mother spent some time video chatting with the kids yesterday and asked my son “Why was Martin Luther King Jr so special?” where my son replied:

He changed the rules. He wanted white kids to be able to play with brown kids. Like, if you were from India you could only play with Indian kids.

So simple and to the point.

Hello everybody, it’s Mr Contrarian here. I’d like to take a moment to air out my grivances with the “War on Christmas.”

I say happy holidays at the office, at the gym and at the beer and wine. Not because I’m oversensitive, a politician or a Jesus hating zealot. I say happy holidays because I’m considerate. That doesn’t change the fact that I have a Christmas tree up in my house, and that I tell my kids we’re celebrating Christmas. I sing Christmas songs, and even sang Happy Birthday Jesus over breakfast yesterday. No really, I did.

But if you’re of the offensive type and feel as though Christmas is being assaulted I ask you: “Who put the presents under your tree?” If you tell your kids it was Santa, your either an idiot or a liar. You can’t claim there is a war on Christmas when you don’t make an effort to make Christmas about Christ in your own home.

If there had been a war on Christmas, Santa Clause won. Shut up and enjoy your family. Open presents if you’re lucky enough to have received them, be thankful if you were lucky enough to have given them.

Last week, I had the unfortunate timing of being at the gym at the same time a High School JV lacrosse team came in to work out. My run now complete, soon to be free from their adolescent conversations — selfish complaints from the spoiled and wealthy, tempered only by what seemed to be a self-censor put in place to not expose their reality to strangers.

That censor was gone though, as most the adults had left the changing room and I was the only one in the shower to overhear a surprisingly candid conversation among who I assume by their looks were sophomores. A group of about 3 went back and forth declaring their name brand wants, when one kid said this as though he was reading a monologue:

Dude, face it. We buy stuff because of the brand. Most Dockers and Timberlands are basically the same, but we’ll pay 20% more for the Tims. Just because of the name, but that’s cool. We’re privileged, embrace it! We’re not paying for it, so what does it matter. One day, we’ll have to buy that stuff for ourselves; and then one day, we’ll be the ones buying it for someone else.