Is Tweeting Cheating?

As some of you may know, I possess a faint desire to one day throw my hat into the political ring and run for public office. I mean, I'm not sure how adept I'd be at  like writing policy or enforcing legislation, but Lord knows I can deliver a rousing speech.

Till this point, I've considered it likely that the most significant obstacle to achieving my goal of public service would be my ability to overcome the sensationalist headlines that would no doubt be published when my bitter rivals begin  to one-by-one emerge from the woodwork, providing the media with their trumped-up, unilateral tales of my long and sordid history of public intoxication & general unruliness.

Just in case I do run, let me throw this disclaimer out there now... *All such future claims are totally unfounded. Even those associated with video evidence and/or court documents.*

So yes, a part of me did want to run. That was until recently, when New York Congressman, Anthony Weiner, was all but forced into resignation from office for a scandal that included nothing more than him tweeting photos of his private parts. That was it. Tweeting... No physical encounters. No exchange of favors, gifts or currency. No underage photo-recipients... Just a few, pedestrian, smart-phone executed, megapixels of his privates.

Granted, I have never tweeted, emailed, texted, videotaped, or even taken a private photo of my manhood. I'm a prude that way... In fact, I'm a little embarrassed to admit that until I heard Kanye's opening lyrics to "Runaway", on the heels of Brett Farve's text messaging mini-scandal; I was naively unaware as to just how prevalent such practices apparently are... So although I personally have no desire to share my person with the world in such a manner, I can't help but feel a little bit restricted...I mean if our civil rights & liberties are being infringed upon to the point where we cant even tweet a misbehaved, hyper-sexed, middle-aged, housewife in Timbuktu, without fear of repercussion, then what can we do?

It's the principle. Ya know.

But in all seriousness, I ask myself; is tweeting cheating?

Yesterday, a beastly early-evening nap left me wide awake at the most God forsaken of hours, with little more to pass the time than piddling around the house, and aimless channel surfing. I was on the very brink of cancelling my Comcast Cable subscription for its consistent lack of decent programming, when I stumbled upon the best show currently buried in late night cable..."Cheaters"

First off, let me say that I absolutely love Cheaters for two reasons. First, because, not unlike "Cops", it practices equal opportunity exploitation. The only color the producers of this show give a damn about is the "green" provided to them by late night "As seen on TV, Not Sold in Stores" advertising dollars...

Secondly, this show makes me grateful to live in DC. So while it's true that we do our fair share of dirt in the Northeast; at least we don't do it in that miseducated, low-rent, drunk-off-rail-liquor from T.G.I.Friday's, Middle-America kind of way... But I digress.

Where was I? Oh yes. Cheaters.. Okay, so a distressed stripper was having her low-life fiance trailed by the Cheaters investigators/camera crew.

They followed him for 3 days, meticulously collecting video footage of him cheating on his fiance with another woman... On one occasion, he was even so trifling as to carelessly leave his 7-week-old infant at home unattended, while he drove around the corner to savagely fornicate with his haggard sidepiece, on the well-worn, cloth-interior, of the backseat of his circa early 1990s Nissan Sentra; (of course purchased for him by his unwitting fiance), who had gone to work; presumably forced to bypass the minimum, state-mandated time period, allotted to women for maternity leave; to resume her position on the pole, so as to successfully scrape together a few dollars to ensure that she could fortify her newborn with exorbitantly-priced, baby formula. All the while, her no-good fiance was gallivanting around with what I could only imagine to have been the town's most undesirable single woman.

So when his now informed fiance, with the Cheaters cameras  in tow, finally accosted him in the frozen meat section of the local grocery store, making-out with the same substandard sidepiece, one might think he would acknowledge that he had been caught red-handed. Nope. Not him.

Despite being apprehended in plain view, with what appeared to be an entire tube of smudged orange lipstick smeared across his face, he vehemently denied any wrongdoing... So they rolled the videotape of the previous 3 days. There he was, on film:  in and out of his side piece's home. Holding hands, playing tonsil hockey, purchasing steak-ums at the grocery store... Obviously the jig was up, right? Wrong.

Even with such damning evidence, he still managed to maintain his "innocence"... Still, I wasn't surprised. The only thing that truly surprised me was how taken aback his fiance was. I mean considering  she met her baby daddy/fiance at the strip club, while he delicately tucked one dollar bills into the strap of her thong, as she descended from top to bottom, upside down, on a well-greased pole... Like, how surprised could she have been surprised that the relationship ended in such salacious fashion.

I figure all relationships that start like this one, can only end one of two ways: "Cheaters" or "Maury".

Still, my point is, that's cheating. There's no grey area there.  Nothing's up for debate.Just shameless, morally deficient, stone-cold infidelity.  That Karl-Kani-wearing, hair-full-of-lint-having negro had an overwhelming penchant for obese white women, and he didn't care if he had to leave little Barack at home alone to fend for his infant self, he was going to score with every sloppy pink-toe he could get his grimy little haven't-done-an-honest-day-of-work-in-his-entire-life hands on.

But Weiner on the other hand, was tweeting women he'd never met; some of whom lived half-way across the globe. So are we still to consider his behavior as "cheating"?

I don't know. And with that, I decided to conduct a poll. I mean, not like an extensive poll. I asked like 3 or 4 people on G-chat before tiring of the small talk that either preceded my inquiry, or subsequently ensued. So at that point I lazily threw the question out into the Facebook universe, and let the miracle of Mark Zuckerburg do the heavy-lifting for me... I figure if Neilsen can somehow purport to know with certitude, the television viewing preferences of 300 million Americans, by monitoring the television choices of 25,000 households, taking that data, and extrapolating outward, then my inquiry of 15 people would be quite sufficient.

Of those 15, 14 being women, 12 concluded that Weiner had indeed cheated... Although for different reasons. Some felt that the act of a married man tweeting photos in and of itself constituted an act of cheating. Others said that his actions gave him a platform to cheat. A gateway to infidelity if you will.... The two women who said he was not cheating actually have a reputation for being a bit loose. In fact, one of them will outright tell you she's a floozy if you were to ask.

Anyway, even after I completed collecting the data for my poll, I remained unsure...

I considered perhaps this whole thing to be a matter of semantics. And with that I turned my attention to the dictionary, where I uncovered 12 separate definitions of the word "cheating".

Regarding relationships, cheating is defined as being "sexually unfaithful". A person wouldn't have to be in receipt of some fancy law degree to argue Weiner was not "sexually unfaithful."... However, ironically, in regards to "baseball", cheating is defined as "positioning oneself closer to a certain area than is normal or expected"... I actually consider this definition to be a more accurate description of Weiner's transgression. 


And I'm actually comfortable with the word "transgression." 


Did Weiner cheat? Maybe. Depends on who you ask.
Did Weiner practice infidelity? Kinda. 
Did Weiner commit adultery? Nope. 
Did Weiner commit a transgression? Yes! he most certainly did. 


And really, who among us is without Transgression? Let he without sin cast the first stone!


"Know ye not. That the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God. Be not deceived: Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of God" - Corinthians 6: 9 - 11

A lack of Institutional (or rather, Cultural) Control

Today, if you'd be so kind as to allow me to; I’d like to take a brief foray from the typical context, content, & nature of my blog, to share with you a story. A story that began on September 21^st, 1996; the day that marked the beginning of my collegiate education… I was eating dinner with my roommate at Kennedy Commons, the South Campus dining hall at The Ohio State University, in Columbus, Ohio, when I spotted an attractive young coed across the room... I decided to make my way across the dining hall in hopes of making her acquaintance.

Me: “Hello, my name is BlackDonDraper”

Coed: (Immediately reaching in her bag/swiftly producing a team roster/scanning said roster in an attempt to locate my name.) “Do you play football? What position do you play?”

Long-story-short, my approach bore no fruit. As it turns out, I never even had a chance; having later learned that girl was one of the university’s premier football groupies. In fact, her nickname was “Paper Gold”... “

Paper Gold” was the campus flyer that housed the money-saving coupons to the local eateries and businesses that catered to the University's students… Apparently, the reason she was dubbed “Paper Gold”, was because after she finished “servicing” the football players, prior to making her departure, she continued to demonstrate her magnanimous generosity by ordering for them whatever late-night, post-debauchery, meal they desired from the Paper Gold flyer...

In 1996, I enrolled at The Ohio State University, having no idea of the experiences that lay ahead. In my sophomore year, of '97, a friend I had made during my freshman year, tried-out, and made, the Buckeye football team as a “walk on”. And although he was not the "typical jock", as he spent most of his time hitting the books in preparation for medical school, I began to meet other football players through him; and thus, by association, I was suddenly thrust into a spectacular realm of decadence & privilege I was previously unaware existed. The world of a  laissez-faire football culture. One that may not have promoted, but certainly did not discourage provacative sexual escapades, sweetheart car deals & questionable classroom grading criteria.

This past week, those of us who follow sports were informed of the resignation of Ohio State University football coach, Jim Tressel.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, The Ohio State University (OSU hereafter) has one of the most prolific football pedigrees in the history of collegiate football. OSU’s tradition is one rich with All-American talent, National Championship rings, Heisman Trophy winners, and scores of players who later went on to star in the NFL.

For the past 10 seasons, the mighty Buckeyes were coached by the venerable Jim Tressel. In an era when major collegiate athletic programs are falling into scandal faster than the 5 seconds flat it took for “Paper Gold” to dismiss me once she realized I didn’t play football, Tressel was thought to be the anomaly… After all, he was a man of high character. The mere mention of his name conjured images of ethos, moral integrity, & righteousness … That is of course until recently, when Tressel himself, as if syntactically extracted  from the pages of a Greek tragedy, descended from the stratospheric pinnacle of glory, plummeting to the most abysmal depths of scorn.

It all began to unfold a couple months back when information leaked that during the 2010-2011 season, Tressel had been tipped off that some of his players, including his star quarterback; Terrelle Pryor, had been trading OSU bowl memorabilia for tattoos. And while such an act may seem harmless enough, it is nothing short of a flagrant violation of NCAA legislation.

Upon hearing the news of such infractions, Tressel’s first actions were supposed to include contacting the University’s Athletic Department’s compliance office, in order to report the violations he had now become cognizant of. However, Tressel opted not to do so. Instead, he chose to cover up the violations... And as is often the case, the haphazardly executed cover-up grew far more egregious than the original crime… With that, one thing led to another. A string of accusations began to surface; and this past week, Coach Tressell, in the midst of swirling controversy, resigned his position as head football coach, and all of the accoutrements that come with.

Although Tressell was the martyr, and rightfully so, it appears as if the stars are aligning for Quarterback Terrell Pryor to be forced into the role of “scapegoat”.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, just 4 short years ago, Terelle Pryor was the most sought- after, blue-chip football recruit in America. Pryor was considered to be a freak of nature. A mammoth 6’ 6” 250lbs thoroughbred, who could run a 4.4 second, 40-yard dash seemingly in his sleep… He was a legend in the making; a man-amongst-boys; a standout two- sport performer at his Pennsylvania high school, leading his team to state championships in both football and basketball.

I recall viewing a video of Pryor’s recruiting visit to OSU on YouTube. A teenage man-child, literally ushered into town with a parade. Looking back, I consider there to be a certain irony in the ballyhooed manner in which he arrived on campus; as his departure will most assuredly be antithetical, lacking boisterous enthusiasm and regalia.

The University’s athletic department is now being accused of nurturing a lackadaisically monitored atmosphere; one which ultimately produced a “Lack of institutional control”.

Do I agree there was a  glaring “lack of institutional control”? Absolutely I do... In my day, Columbus was a free-for-all. Carte-Blanche reigned supreme... Institutional control at OSU was as noticeably absent as many of it's  most beloved football stars were in classes where they remarkably received satisfactory test scores...  However, I also consider this perceived lack of institutional control to be the “Micro”. It is merely a product of the “Macro”; that being, a lack of cultural control.

You see, in Columbus, Ohio, OSU football is divinity. And OSU football players are the deified subjects, who the residents of the nation’s 15^th largest city, willfully bow down to worship... The football players are the regular guests on the radio and television stations. They are the faces printed on the flyers handed out by club promoters when marketing their clubs... How could it ever be considered a surprise when these young men develop an insatiable sense of entitlement? When you present an 18-year-old-kid with the keys to the kingdom, in all likelihood, severe abuses of power will follow.

I vividly recall a story told by a star player at OSU, “Travis Easton” who later went on to play in the NFL…

It was 7am on a Saturday in the spring of ’98. Travis Easton was in an unconscious state of deep, blissful slumber, when suddenly he was awakened by the boisterous chime of the doorbell. Easton, groggy, from a long night of carousing, realized that next to him in bed lay his girlfriend. Oblivious to the doorbell, she continued to lay asleep…Easton slowly arose from his bed and begrudgingly headed down the steps to see just who could possess the audacity to come calling at such an ungodly hour. He opened the door... There, perched on his doorstep was a striking female figure; 5’ 10” sandy-blond hair, piercing blue eyes… Easton recognized this woman as his neighbor. He gathered she was in her early 30’s, as he had seen her on a number of occasions with her husband, and toddler son. “The MILF” as he referred to her, was scantily clad in a form-fitting tank top, a pair of dangerously revealing cut-off denim shorts, and had a mini-football in tow. She apologized for the early call, and then asked Easton if he would be so kind as to sign the pint-sized football for her young son… He obliged… He excused himself for a moment as to give himself the opportunity to rummage around his home for a writing utensil. Upon locating a marker, he turned back around to see that his neighbor had taken the liberty to invite herself in. In fact, she had crept up right behind him… She pushed him on the couch, got on her knees, and proceeded to deliver oral sex. When she finished, or rather, he finished; he signed the football. She rose to her feet & proceeded out the door without uttering a single word. As he closed the door behind her, Easton waved hello to the woman’s husband, none-the-wiser, washing their family minivan in his own driveway, as his wife held up the football, as if to motion to her husband, “I got it”.

Perhaps this a story sounds somewhat scandalous to you. But really, transactions such as these were simply par for the course. These were precisely the sort of fringe “benefits” that came along with OSU football glory...

On the very same Saturday that Travis Easton received his early morning surprise, I too, as I am not above reproach, received a share of residual benefits.

My roommate’s friend, “Terry Northside”, who also played football, suggested we go to the mall. I agreed. Terry and & I hopped in his truck and headed to Northland mall. As we drove to the mall, he began to tell me about a “hookup”. I wasn’t surprised. Terry had a hookup on darn near everything... Whether it was scoring a “sweetheart” deal on his new truck, getting a free carpet for his dorm room, or some coed trying to get in good with him by unsolicited feeding his parking meter, then knocking on his door to inform him that she had done so; Terry had a knack for getting over...  Terry spoke of a storeowner at the mall. His name was “Mike”. Mike owned an athletic shoe store. Sort of like a mom-and-pop Footlocker. We arrived at the mall and made a bee-line to Mike’s establishment. Terry introduced me to Mike. Mike asked if I played football too. I told him I did not. He looked slightly disappointed, but was still excited to see Terry. We shot the breeze with Mike for about 45 minutes. Terry talked about practice, teammates, coaches, and the prospects of the upcoming season. Mike listened with fawning attentiveness, and offered Terry the most lavish adulation & praise... The duo then went off into the back of the store. 10 minutes later, Terry resurfaced with no less than 5 bags full of inventory… I expressed to Mike that I was interested in the new Jordan’s, but the $150 price tag attached to them was too steep for me this week. And that I’d be receiving some money the next week, and asked if he could place a pair of size 13’s on hold for me… Mike, perhaps looking to make a quick sale, asked me how much money I had. I replied “80 bucks”. Mike pointed me to a nice pair of Nike cross trainers. They were $74.99. I said “they’re nice, but I think I’m going to hold off for the Jordan’s”… Terry, perhaps seeking to demonstrate the length and breadth of his pull, said “Come on Mike, hook my guy up.” Mike was putty in Terry hands. After 5 minutes of negotiation, I walked out of the store with the $80 Nikes, a pair of $120 Jumpman’s, and the $150 Jordan’s I had been coveting, all for the discounted price of the very same $80 I come with.

Upon returning to campus the next fall, while hanging out with Terry and his OSU teammate, “Dayne Maryland”, we learned that Mike the store owner had spent the previous month sleeping on Dayne’s couch. Apparently Mike had offered up so many “hookups” to football players that he eventually gave away his store, literally. After the store went under, Mike’s wife was so upset with her husband’s foolishness that she kicked him out of the house and filed for a divorce. Mike had nowhere to turn, so Dayne mercifully allowed Mike to squat on his living room couch until things blew over.

But that’s just how things were. Seemingly every "lay" person desired a piece of the football team.  The price of the interaction was immaterial. Some folks sacrificed their livelihood, others, their dignity…

We returned home. I told my friend Jonathan, who was training for the next year’s tryout about what happened. I showed him my new shoes… Jonathan, like me, was from New York. Everyone from New York was friendly with one another. Jonathan however had always dreamed of playing football at OSU. His plan was to “walk on” to the OSU football team…  The next weekend Jonathan was travelling home to New York. He departed on Friday, and I thought I wouldn’t see him until Monday. But on Friday evening he unexpectedly appeared in my dorm room. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. I inquired as to the reason for his dismay.

He explained to me that he had found over $10,000 in counterfeit money the day before. And that instead of disposing of the money, he had made the poor decision to hold onto it. While on his way home, he was pulled over for speeding by state troopers about 100 miles outside of Columbus. He explained that the troopers were doing random drug searches. They brought in a drug sniffing dog. Apparently the dog began to scratch at his rear driver-side door. A police search ensued. As Jonathan was never involved in drugs, the police found none. But what they did uncover was the $10,000 in counterfeit. Jonathan was immediately handcuffed and pushed into the back of the squad car. They held him by the side of the road and questioned him. Jonathan explained that he had found the money the night before, and had not disposed of it because he was “intrigued”.  One of the cops asked him what prompted a kid from New York to attend OSU. Jonathan said “to play football”. Suddenly the officer’s eyes lit up… “You play football?” .. Jonathan, sensing an out, decided to go with it. The officer delved into the glove compartment of his squad car and pulled out a team roster. Jonathan, obviously not on the roster, concocted a story about how he had just walked onto the team, and would begin to play in the upcoming season… A couple more cops arrived onto the scene. Now 4 cops stood huddled around the squad car. Jonathan heard them talking about football. Then, the original cop removed Jonathan from the squad car and un-cuffed him. The other officers took the opportunity to shake Jonathan’s hand, and congratulate him on his accomplishment of making the OSU football team.  One remarked, “Look, you’re a young kid. You found this counterfeit money, and you were intrigued. Don’t do it again. Don’t throw away your future. Now get out there on that field this fall and make us proud! .O-H” The other officers shouted “I-O”. Suddenly a mini pep rally had broken out. 4 state troopers and Jonathan exuberantly chanting O-H-I-O on the side of the interstate, 100 miles east of Columbus. Jonathan decided to cancel his trip from there. He turned around and headed straight back to Columbus.

many more storied lay dormant in my minds eye. Numerous instances such as these. However,  I chose to utilize the previous four, because each instance progressively demonstrates how the culture of Columbus aids and abets the sort of unethical behavior that has led the Buckeyes into the mire where they currently wallow.

I consider it to be one thing to cross paths with a groupie like “Paper Gold”. It’s easy to write her behavior off as merely a case of youthful indiscretion… But the sort of degenerative behavior demonstrated by a married-mother, so utterly consumed by her fan-ship that she was willing to risk her family’s well-being, presumably for the sake of  fulfilling her deviant fantasy; a young up-and- coming businessman so wholly obsessed, that he recklessly threw away his livelihood, & eventually his marriage for almost nothing in exchange; and a quartet of middle-aged men, who were supposed to be upholding the law, choosing to turn a flippantly blind-eye to a potential federal felony offense, because they so desperately wanted to believe that they had just come into contact with an OSU football player, and perhaps in some twisted way, were doing the program a favor by not taking Jonathan into custody, speak to something deeper and more widespread than simply a lack of institutional control. It speaks to a space & time that had long surpassed a “lack of institutional control”. It speaks to a permeation of moral deficiency and idol worship, that has perhaps unintentionally, yet effectively, bred a spectacular lack of cultural control.

Still, this did not begin with Terrelle Pryor... It didn’t start with Jim Tressel.  I’d be a fool to think it's inception took place upon my arrival on campus in 1996. And we’d all be foolish to think that such corruption is exclusive to Columbus, Ohio. This is a national epidemic.

But fear not my fellow Buckeyes. for we shall  rise again. Be it purposefully or unintentionally; willfully or begrudgingly; inherently, or by way of adoption; we all bleed Scarlet & Gray... As we say in Columbus...

“Hang on Sloopy. Sloopy hang on. O-H-I-O"!

         “If you’d broken every rule & vow, and hard times came to bring you down; would you change?”