As part of the press junket for the upcoming Summer Olympics, U.S. hurdler Lolo Jones has been making the interview rounds, discussing her hopes for success in competition, but there’s another topic she’s been discussing a lot of late: her virginity. Jones is 29-years-old, and forgoing sex until marriage. Of course this is admirable, since she’s doing it in part because of her religious convictions. She also pointed to her unmarried parents’ break-up as a contributing factor in her decision.

But in mentioning her very personal choice to the press, Jones has also opened herself to public scrutiny. In a recent The Jane Dough article, writer Laura Donovan took issue with Jones’ comment that abstinence has been the hardest thing she’s done in her life. Donovan asserts:

Griping that it’s so unbelievably difficult to hold off on sex takes away from the message she seems to be trying to send, which is that it is perfectly fine to wait until marriage to have intercourse. Quarterback Tim Tebow has before but never gone on and on about what a struggle it has been to maintain the stigmatized title. He’s five years younger than Jones, who says being a virgin loses its cuteness factor after a person hits 24, so maybe he’ll begin whining soon as well, but complaints from either person won’t inspire others to stay chaste until their wedding night.

Setting aside the judgmental language of “whining” and judging,” Donovan is also being a bit presumptuous here. She assumes Jones is primarily discussing her abstinence in order to compel others to make the same choice. Based on the tenor of the comments she’s made about it so far, she isn’t exactly trying to be the national face of a 2012 True Love Waits campaign (… yet). Her decision seems nuanced and personal — and the latter is what’s most important.

Virginity is a deeply personal choice; everyone’s reasons for preserving it are motivated by different factors. And having to discuss it with the press for cutesy human interest spin or as a detail that distinguishes the virgin from other celebrities can be an odd and alienating thing. The media always treats virginity and celibacy as freakish decisions, made only by religious zealots and the deeply naive. It’s something they seize on at every (increasingly rare) opportunity, making the virgin the butt of headline puns and jokes. Paparazzi scrutinize every celebrity virgin’s relationships and dog them with inquiries about their virginal status (see: Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson). If they don’t continue abstaining, it’s treated as a very public moral failure. If they do and then marry, they cease to be interesting public figures.

It’s a strange and highly problematic phenomenon.

Given the way virginity is manipulated, celebs would do well not to discuss it at all. Why would we need to know whether or not the 29-year-old athlete is sexually active? Is the public’s interest in her intrinsically tied to her sex life? It shouldn’t be. She isn’t an actress or singer who, whether right or wrong, would be expected by the public to trade in sexual identity. And even if she were a singer or actress, couldn’t it be in her best interest to demure about her sex life, publicity-wise? It would lend an air of mystery and intensify speculation. Unless celebrity virgins hope to convert or convince young (or old) fans, their decision doesn’t need to be open to public scrutiny (or ridicule).

Do other virgins need celebrity examples? Does expressing how “difficult” virginity is compromise an abstinence message? Should celebrity virgins feel obligated to tell the public about it, even as it becomes the only–or primary–thing they’re known for?

Now for those of you who are from the Northeast, you may be familiar with a number of bus services that ‘shuttle’ folks to popular destination sites at almost unbelievably low prices. Well as a Southern gal, this concept was fairly new to me yet gave me new optimism to plan various summer get aways! I’ve taken about 3 successful bus trips with this service thus far and may plan more for this summer. As a result of my trips, I wanted to weigh-in on a few bus etiquette ‘faux pas’ that I have witnessed and experienced as a passenger. It’s amazing what one is exposed to just as a result of taking any form of public transportation. I’m typically not a fan of public transportation, but with the price of gas continuing to make my left eye well up with each fill up, I decided that something had to give if I still wanted spending change on my trips!

BUS TRIP ETIQUETTE FAUX PAS

 1. Bus Attendants: Your job is to tend to the passengers. This particular bus service always provided two drivers for each trip to help combat against extreme levels of fatigue for one person. AWESOME! Soon this particular trip, and as passengers began to board the bus, one driver should’ve been checking tickets while the other assisting passengers with placing their bags under the bus. Sir, I understand that you just had to get a few more puffs off of that Newport before starting this bus trip, however, I think I just ruptured, sprained, and dislocated my 56th & 57th vertebrae trying to simultaneously bend, lift, and move this piece of luggage onto the bottom of this bus. Please & Thank you in advance. Sidenote: It also pisses me off that you watch me struggle & still don’t feel moved to help. *Cue Miss Celie’s twofingered point,”eeerythang you dun done to me … I already dun done to you.”

2. Bus snacks should be just that … SNACKS! Anything that requires a utensil to consume, anything that is so fragrant it would ‘light up’ the entire bus as soon as you open the container, anything that you wouldn’t want to eat in the car while driving is not an appropriate bus snack. Examples include, but are not limited to: brunswick stew, beef stroganoff, spaghetti, boiled eggs, boiled onions w/ garlic on the side … you get my drift!

3. Only cuddle and/or lay on the shoulder of those you know. There is nothing worse than waking up with a stranger ever so gently breathing on your neck and clutching your arm as if you are a TeddyRuxpin bear. No MF ma’am or sir!

4. Talking on cell phones should be kept to a minimum. The whole bus does not care to know your own personal thoughts about the ‘riding on the bus’ experience. Please wait until Gwen & Erma pick you up to let them know how pleased you are with the trip and more importantly the price of the tix.

5. Bring a jacket/blanket/something to wear because the bus may get chilly. Part of the reason bus drivers keep the air pumping is so that they will stay awake, and you will then ‘arrive alive.’ It’s just like the movie theatre; it should be understood that you may need a wrap to maintain a decent body temp; otherwise, prepare for your nipples to be as hard as AP Math in China under that lone tank top!

6. If you are sitting in a seat with a stranger and a seat opens up-MOVE! Unless we are traveling together, there’s no loyalty with regard to seat occupancy. I can’t feel either of my baby toes because I’m trying to maintain a respectable stature in my seat beside you … and you ain’t tryin’ to move! No MF ma’am or sir!

7. Once we stop after an extended driving time & you have been to sleep … your breath now stinks! Just because you are not sleep in your bed at the house does not mean that your mouth will not smell bad after dozing off for an hour or so on a bus. Unless ‘mesquite open ass’ is the flavor on your box of Tic Tacs, with that smell being the goal once consumed, point your eyes at me to let me know you’re talking to me, but cover your mouth to acknowledge the ‘situation’ at hand.

Be safe out there and remember: bus trips vs. road trips or plane rides will only remain a viable alternative if everyone respects the situation. Otherwise, you’ll opt to spend more money … not on the vacay itself, but on your piece of mind while traveling there!

One of my family members passed away, and we were looking through the shoe boxes of faded photographs. She had taken the liberty of recording some of the basics: names and ages on the back of the photos. But the majority of the photos were not labeled, or the labels had been rubbed off. It became a game to try to guess which of her children was posing in the photo. We certainly couldn’t tell where exactly the photo had been taken as it is nearly impossible to differentiate a tree in Arkansas from a tree in Missouri. It was at that moment that I decided I wanted to be a scrapbooker. I wanted to preserve not only the photos — but the stories.

We’ve all been to an older person’s home. They usually have a ton of dusty frames on bookshelves. There are volumes of old photo albums; you know, the ones where the photo clings to the page. There are always the classic photos of the military men, the proms, and the grandchildren. If we look closer, the older person starts talking about the history: “that is your great uncle …” or “your second cousin ….” After about 10 – 15 minutes, you learn something new about your family that you didn’t know before. African American culture is an oral culture, so most of our cultural history has been transported by word of mouth. I feared that, if I didn’t start writing things down certain, memories would be lost.

Although I don’t have any children of my own yet,  memory keeping has been an essential part of my life because it helps me to keep things in perspective. In this society where materialism reigns supreme, it can be easy to lose site of all of the things we have accomplished: graduating from high school, graduating from college, and being gainfully employed. In December of 2011, I lost my first child due to a miscarriage at 5 months, and it was through my scrapbooks that I prayed for myself and memorialized my unborn baby girl. I was able to light my way out of the darkness.

It also helps me to live a more mindful life. I notice things that float across most people’s heads. From the flowers that bloomed a bit too early because of the record high weather we had in March to the way my step daughter tilts her head when it’s time to take a picture, it’s all recorded. She has “mastered” the art of posing at four.

Finally, it is my “paper trail.” When I am no longer walking this earth, someone will be able to follow the love story, first hand, that my husband and I share through the post cards that we exchange when he travels for work. Someone will be able to read about historical events because I include articles from newspapers and magazines in my albums; for example, an article about Mayor Daley retiring from Chicago after 20+ years in office or the Trayvon Martin case.  My children and grandchildren will be able to see not only the type of woman that I was, but they will have an alternative view on some of the events that they will hear about in history classes.

Similar to quilts, journals, and letter writing, scrapbooking allows us to affirm ourselves, literally leaving a legacy for the future.

Sorry Unc. Nothing personal.

Despite wallowing in a cloud of downtrodden funkiness — and being on a fairly successful diet — I treated myself to Chick-Fil-A. I went hard, even getting a 2 million calorie milkshake, and trudged back to the pile of unfinished work waiting for me at my desk with my taste buds happier than any other part of my person. A few minutes after I plopped back down, one of my friends called.

“Hey birthday girl, I’m taking you out for lunch!” she sang, all chipper. And all late and wrong, I might add. I told her as much. The Chick-Fil-A was still happily lingering on my palate and even I, the sumo wrestler of overeating, was too full for another round of lunching.

She sucked her teeth and huffed into the receiver. “Why would you do that?” she scolded. “You never, ever give folks a chance to do things for you. You haul off and take all the fun out of it. Every time.”

What you won’t do, I teased, is call up here chastising me on my born day. It was either be still and starve — and deprive myself of all of the Chick-Fil-A goodness that awaited me — or sit in anticipation of some far-flung invitation that might not have shown up. If it comes down to relying on other people or myself, even in matters as small as birthday lunches, I choose myself.

She’s right, though. I was not raised to be an asker or a wait around-er. I grew up under the auspices of a single mother who is, to this day, fiercely independent. If something needs to be fixed around the house, she fixes it, only calling on a professional in the direst of circumstances. Doesn’t matter what it is. Ratched plumbing, flat tires, broken screen doors. That orange tool box comes out of the hallway closet and I see my mama crouched down, making it work with the engineering of her own hands, the help of a monkey wrench and the spirit of sheer determination. I can only thank sweet baby Jesus that she decided to call Home Depot this past weekend to replace the shingles on her roof, which I have no doubt came after much deliberation and inspection on her part.

Mommy is the mistress of do-it-yourself, and she taught me not to build sandcastle dreams on the arrival of a man who, according to the fantasies of helpless damsels, is supposed to take care of heavy duty or unsavory tasks around the house. He might never show up or, if he does, sometimes he’s too flawed to properly perform his function. And then what? Let the trash pile up? Let that dripping sink keep dripping? Let the unshoveled snow on the sidewalk morph into an icy pathway of doom? Rather than be a victim of unwarranted hopefulness or socially imposed gender roles, my mom’s mantra is learn how to do everything yourself. That way, if he shows up, you know how to do for self. And if he doesn’t show up, you still know how to do for self.

So I’ve been doing for self for the almost 10 years I’ve been out on my own and, judging by the recent meltdown in the romantic part of my life, I’m gonna keep on keepin’ on, too. My rabid self-sufficiency isn’t limited to just men. I would rather hustle my blood plasma and fertile eggs than ask a friend to borrow money. Ever. The thought of it, even just in writing about it, makes me feel flushed. I went through the hellfires of a personal recession a few years ago after I lost my job and Congress put the kibosh on unemployment benefits for what seemed like for-freaking-ever, which meant I had zero income. Yet I could not bring myself to ask for help. No one knew how badly I was going through: not my mama, not my friends, not even my own child. I was too prideful and too independent to allow myself to be helped — even when my prideful, independent tail was facing an imminent eviction — which made me an island in a sea of potential resources.

The same problem also presented itself whenever The Man offered to help me pay a bill or front the money for something. I was adamantly, vehemently, bullheadedly against accepting any assistance. I didn’t want the cloud of I-did-such-and-such-for-you to hang over my head and I didn’t want to feel like I owed him anything. And I certainly didn’t want to feel like I was betraying the independence that I am so proud of, that is the calling card of us Harris women. As a result, he stopped asking if he could help me and, in some way I guess, felt less like we were a team and more like I was determined to be a one-woman show. In retrospect, he probably figured I could do bad all by myself, which I’m sure didn’t help his man ego (though that’s not directly why we parted ways).

I don’t blame my mom for raising me to be too independent. I’m not even sure if there is such a thing, especially for a Black woman in our generation. My own life experience has taught me that I do need to learn when to wield that do-for-self spirit and when to fall back and let other folks help me. Just a little. I’m so deep in my I-don’t-need-nobody-ness that a complete 180 is an unforeseeable change and one that I’m really not even willing to make. Next year, I’ll take a baby step and let somebody take me out to lunch. Here’s to hoping the offer will even be on the table.

With this kind of logic, Jim Crow would still be the law of the land, and women would not be allowed to vote. The fact of the matter is that the law often runs behind the social push for change.  More importantly, societies that don’t progress and change become stagnant and die. Two sets of laws for citizens is not now, or ever will be equality.  As it is, the U.S. is already behind because Argentina, Belgium, Canada, Iceland, the Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, Spain, South Africa, and Sweden all allow same sex marriage.  The United Kingdom, Brazil, New Zealand, Uruguay, and France all allow civil unions between same sex couples.  It’s nice to know that Quinn is against the closet, but his position is hardly unbiased.

Saying I don’t believe in forcing people to hide and then finishing by advocating inequality in the law is homophobic. What Quinn does not realize is that one need not be spewing homophobic slurs, or participating in a gay bashing to be a homophobe.  All one need do is suggest that there are limits to equality to be understood as a homophobe.

One would think that after showing his inner bigot to the world that Quinn would step back from Twitter for awhile, but apparently, Quinn was only sorry that he didn’t take the time to put people of colour in their place.

Then of course there is the little matter of slavery.  You know, the time period where African-Americans were considered on the same level of animals.  Yes, that magical time in history when the forced labour of African-Americans built the U.S. up from a backward ragtag group of rebels, to a country that had to be taken seriously.  Quite simply, the U.S. would not be where it is without the labour of African-Americans.

Quinn is not the first comedian to openly say something homophobic or racist; the difference in this case is that he didn’t attempt to couch it in comedy the way that so many comedians do.  Quinn wasn’t standing on a stage like Tracy Morgan joking about killing his son if he acts gay, or hunting for a new Black best friend like Chelsea Handler recently did, but he works in an industry that finds this kind of speech to be unproblematic.  To follow Lisa Lampanelli on Twitter for instance, is to get an education in how to be offensive and pass it off as comedy.  If Quinn had made these statements as part of a routine, there would be plenty of people lining up to suggest that African-Americans, and gays and lesbians are being too sensitive and cannot take a joke.

When we give a pass to bigotry by accepting the excuse that said statements are comedic, it is hardly shocking that a comedian pushes the envelope even further to make clearly problematic statements on Twitter.  It is naive to believe that when comedians claim to be joking as they spew their bigotry on stage that there isn’t an element of self belief in these statements.  They have to be aware that they are promoting the oppression and hatred of historically marginalized people. They simply don’t care.  I don’t agree with a single word Quinn tweeted, but I suppose he deserves some recognition for owning his bigotry and not attempting to suggest that his choice of career justifies his statements.

“Give me about five minutes…”

Translation: I need about 15-20 minutes to finish up whatever I’m doing right now, even if it’s nothing. Don’t rush me.

That project your team member wants to discuss “in detail” or that dreaded introductory chat with the new intern or staff person about what your job duties are and how much you love working at your employer is the last thing on your mind. Go ahead and admit it: when he peeks his head in office or cubicle in exactly five minutes, you secretly wish you could disappear. Unless we give a specific time, we’re rarely ever ready in five or ten minutes. It’s a definite unspoken office rule. Get with it.

“When you get time, can you *insert random request here* ____________”

Translation: Drop what you’re doing, and give me what I need NOW.

Your supervisor calls you to ask for a report, status on a project or whatever he/she wants, but prefaces it with “when you get a chance” only to call you back five minutes later to follow-up on the request. Chances are whatever you were doing five minutes before, you’re still doing it. Your supervisor knows that, but he/she doesn’t care.

“I’m on a conference call.”

Translation: I’m on a conference call, but I’m muting the conversation to work on more important projects with deadlines or…talk to my friends on Gchat, read gossip blogs or tweets.

Ah yes, conference calls: the gift and the curse. Unless you’re the host, or you have to take the lead in the call, that’s the perfect time to look busy without having to do much at all. Let’s be honest and admit that 85 percent of what’s said during a conference is snoozefest material. How many times have we done everything but pay attention during those long calls? The best part about them though? Usually someone else prepares and sends notes from the meeting. Sounds like a winner to me.

“Can you help me with something?”

Translation: I need something done that I should already know how to do (i.e. working the copy machine, rebooting my computer, etc.). You’ve showed me a million times, but can you DO it for me?

This is all too common in the nonprofit industry where tech departments and interns/assistants who usually do the dirty work are luxuries. There’s always that one co-worker who doesn’t know how to do anything no matter how many times you assist them. Instead of taking notes the first time around, he/she would rather depend on you (or anyone else they track down) to do it. Really, how many times do I have to show you how to use Excel? I’m sure there’s an app for that.

“I’m out for a meeting.”

Translation: The meeting that was scheduled was cancelled or ended early, but instead of coming back to the office, I’m going run personal errands on the clock.

Don’t be ashamed. We’ve all done it, or at least tried to. Bank runs, shoe shopping, and salon appointments can all be taken care of when you’re out for a day of meetings. The only thing you have to do is make sure you don’t run into your boss while you’re doing it.

“I’m forwarding the email I sent you.”

Translation: Oh, you wanna play games? You got my email, and I have the proof.

Saving sent mail and read receipts is a mutha. There’s nothing as rewarding as forwarding a sent message that someone adamantly insists you didn’t send. In the working world, besides teamwork and company morale, Cover Your Ass (C.Y.A.) is the motto. If you don’t, no one else will.

“Did you have a good weekend?”

Translation: I want to sound concerned, but I’m really not. Please don’t run down your list of errands and family events. A simple “nothing much” will suffice.

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Unless this is your work buddy, you’re probably not interested in what the guy who never washes his hands before the employee luncheon did over the weekend. Why ask then? Because it’s just what we do, but there’s no need to actually answer the question. You’d think everyone knew that by now.

What other catch phrases do you hear in your office that are doublespeak?

Raven is not the only celebrity whose private life has been speculated about like this.  Will Smith, Queen Latifah, and Anderson Cooper all face ongoing questions about their sexuality and all have refused to comment, preferring instead to keep their private life private.  A refusal to answer in the minds of many constitutes affirmation that one is indeed a member of the LGBTQ community.

These inquires arise because we live in a heterosexist world, which assumes everyone is straight, thus turning homosexuality into something that must be divulged.  If a celebrity plays a role in which they are a LGBTQ character, or sits too close to someone of the same sex, the rumors are off and flying. Will Smith didn’t even actually kiss his co-actor in Six Degrees of Separation and has been married to Jada for many years, yet still people continue to question his sexuality.

There can be no doubt that out celebrities serve as positive reminders that LGBTQ people are present in our society.  In the case of LGBTQ youth, this can be especially helpful because it shows them that they are not alone, and that they are not deviant.  The pressure for an individual celebrity to come out, however, normally has very little to do with affirming the life of LGBTQ people and very much to do with marking them as “other.”

One never has to disclose being heterosexual, or having an affair with a person of the opposite sex. This of course aligns with the fact that no one ever has to come out as straight because heterosexuality is assumed.  The speculation about sexuality goes above and beyond the typical curiosity that the public has about celebrities.  There are several celebrities who are out now, though coming out can have extreme consequences to one’s career.  The attention is not focused on them to the degree that it is focused on those who might potentially be gay.  Instead, out celebrities must deal with the doubt that they are capable of playing straight characters –  as Sean Hayes discovered –  though the process of acting means taking on a different persona.  Actor Rupert Everett claims to be happier than actors who are closeted, but he asserted in 2009, “It’s not that advisable to be honest. It’s not very easy. And, honestly, I would not advise any actor necessarily, if he was really thinking of his career, to come out …”

For LGBTQ people, coming out can be a powerful experience. Coming out means the end of the closet; however, it is worth noting that once out, many still have to struggle to stay out, due to homophobia.  In an ideal world, the process of coming out wouldn’t even exist, or it would be a process that all people have to deal with.  This conversation began with the rumours circulating around Raven Symoné’s sexuality, but the truth is, speculation about sexuality is an everyday phenomenon.  One need not be a celebrity for people to begin gossiping about your sexuality, as though this is anyone’s business in the first place.

The fact that we don’t gossip that someone might be straight, evidences exactly how deviant a queer sexuality is understood to be socially.  No matter how far we think we have come, the demand that someone must come out, or the suggestion that they are being dishonest by their refusal to address something that is no one’s business in the first place is highly problematic. The way the conversation is framed positions a LGBTQ identity as something that must be defended against, rather than a simple occurrence in nature.  As long as this is the dominate attitude about sexuality, then LGBTQ people will forever be positioned as “other.”

I completely support the way that Raven Symoné has handled questions about her sexuality.  She is one hundred percent right, this is indeed a matter that concerns only her and the person she is involved with.  Being a celebrity does not give the world the right to have access to the intimate details of one’s life. It shouldn’t matter whether she is gay, bisexual, or straight.  With all of the consequences that come with being gay in a heterosexist world, no one should be pressured to declare for the purposes of the public’s curiosity.

It seemed to be a strange thing to fight over.

But then I remembered that Pat Houston has a reality show coming out about the lives of the Houston family since Whitney’s passing. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

From MTV:

Titled “The Houston Family Chronicles,” the show will feature Houston’s daughter, Bobbi Kristina Brown, and mother Cissy Houston, though the focus will be on The Bodyguard superstar’s brother Gary Houston and sister-in-law and manager Pat Houston, as well as their daughter, Rayah.

Houston’s cousin Dionne Warwick and Bobbie Kristina’s godmother, gospel legend CeCe Winans, will also appear in the series.

According to Lifetime, the reality show will focus on Pat and Gary “as they take on their greatest challenge, supporting and guiding Bobbi Kristina as she faces the world alone, without the one person she relied on the most, her mother.”

While every family is free to grieve in whatever way they feel fit, there’s something ghoulish about grief via reality TV.

The Houston family’s sudden move from the background in Whitney’s life to the limelight has shades of the most recent season of Bravo’s Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. The series went morbid late last year in the aftermath of cast member Taylor Armstrong’s husband’s suicide. Armstrong, who was a battered spouse, rounded out her public grief with a book tour.

And the Houston family has had their reputations rocked by reality TV before with the image tarnishing embarrassment that was Being Bobby Brown. The 2005 Bravo network show chronicled Houston’s then husband Bobby Brown and his children’s lives with a seemingly out-of-it Houston along for the ride. While highly rated, the show only lasted one season after Houston refused to appear in any more episodes.

Maybe the show will be a loving, comical, and career-boosting tribute, akin to what Braxton Family Values has been for singer Toni Braxton and her loving, bickering, then loving again sisters. But something about it makes me not want to trust it. Something about how for months since Houston’s death someone within the family has routinely leaked gossip to sites like TMZ about Houston’s mother Cissy’s reactions and Bobbi Kristina’s personal life. Houston’s death knocked down that last remaining wall of what was left of her personal life and made it public.

It reminds me of some of the messier aspects of Michael Jackson’s family. That for every member who sought to protect their brother and son’s legacy, there was father Joe Jackson, out on the eve of the funeral, show-boating his latest “act” for CNN. Then Jackson’s remaining brothers turned what was supposed to be a one-hour special about an upcoming tour into a reality show in the wake of Michael’s death.

It, like Being Bobby Brown, didn’t last.

I understand that Bobbi Kristina may want to sing. I can understand a family’s need to find ways to make money after the primary bread-winner is gone. I can understand grief. I don’t understand exploitation and fighting over who gets to accept tributes on the behalf of someone they all claimed to have loved dearly. I don’t understand exposing your grief, family stress and pain to public scrutiny. I don’t understand rushing into a spotlight that, in the end, contributed to the death of someone you held dear.

I don’t get it.

But I’m sure they’ll be happy to explain it all one night a week for Lifetime Television.

But hundreds of unanswered phone calls and dates that only I showed up for made that hard to believe. Still I knew that if I was patient and loved him hard enough that he would eventually change.

It took a phone call from the wife that he conveniently forgot to mention to make me realize that that probably wasn’t going to happen.

Many experiences (and a master’s degree) later, I’ve come to understand that my former lover, and those like him, are sociopaths: a unique breed of individual that is incapable of empathy or any other proper connection to other human beings.

Now when you think of the term “sociopath,” it might conjure up images of the lone stranger who gets off by dismembering people in his backyard. While this may be true, the term isn’t reserved for only felons and serial killers.

This is because the sociopath’s desire doesn’t have to be murder. Sometimes it’s money. Sometimes it’s sex. Sometimes it’s control. And while many people have these same aspirations, what makes a sociopath a sociopath is that they are more than willing to hurt someone to get what they want. So if your feelings or your well-being have to be sacrificed in order for them to achieve that need, that’s exactly what will have to happen.

They’re the man who sleeps with his partner just for her paycheck; the boyfriend that has sex with his girl’s sister, or even the husband that has managed to keep a secret, second family on the side. Most heartbreaking are the partners who think they can love or pray these individuals into being better people. But unfortunately, that’s simply not possible. Because unlike most people who suffer from some sort of mental disorder, sociopaths are perfectly happy being just the way they are. It’s the people that they come across who are miserable. So the only way to ensure that you’re not hurt by a sociopath is simple: stay away.

And what are the criteria for a diagnosable sociopath?

1. Unlawful Behavior
Sociopaths are arrogant creatures who often think they can operate above the law. Because of this, they may repeatedly perform criminal acts. However, because they are usually crafty and highly intelligent, they rarely get caught.

2. Deceitfulness
Lying! But not the random or compulsive variety. Sociopaths lie for a purpose, which usually includes some type of financial, sexual, or political gain. Lies may be grandiose in nature and are told as a vehicle of control.

3. Impulsivity
Sociopaths act on instinct and without thoroughly planning ahead. They may enter relationships quickly and passionately, but lose interest just as fast.

4. Aggressiveness
Sociopaths are usually easily irritated and may be prone to repeated physical fights.

5. Reckless Disregard
Sociopaths are likely to partake in risky, thrill seeking behaviors as they constantly need to be stimulated. In the context of relationships, this includes highly promiscuous sexual behavior usually without protection.

6. Irresponsibility
You know that person that can’t seem to hold down a job? Not because they’re lazy, but because they just don’t want to work? They may just be a sociopath that thinks they’re too good for a regular nine to five.

7. Lack of Remorse
Sociopaths don’t feel bad about anything. This includes not returning your calls or sleeping with your best friend. And to add insult to injury, sociopaths will come up with reasons to rationalize their messed up behavior. Her friend wanted me and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Right?

Bottom line is a sociopath has one concern: himself. And while they know their behavior is devastating to those around them, they’re charming enough to make sure that there are always people in their lives to take advantage of.

You just have to make sure you’re not one of them.

It’s hard to believe it’s been six years since Chappelle’s Show left the air. Though the hit series ultimately proved to be too much pressure for comedian Dave Chappelle to sustain, its heyday afforded us some great satirical sketches and parodies of race and pop culture. Provided Chappelle’s mental health wouldn’t be jeopardized, wouldn’t it be cool if he made a TV show comeback? So much has happened politically and socially since he made his departure. He’s been gone for Obama’s entire presidency. He missed Oprah’s retirement. Wayne Brady’s hosting Let’s Make a Deal now. There’s so much old material to revisit and so many new occurrences to mine!

Here are a few things we’d love to see Chappelle return to tackle:

1. President Obama’s First Term

From his uber-cool saunter and laugh to his noted struggles to kick a decades-long smoking habit to his gorgeous, confident wife to his handling of opposition to the famed beer summit to what’s on his iPod to his varied accomplishments of the past four years, Chappelle would’ve had enough source material to last him two seasons.

2. Herman Cain

Much of Cain’s bid for a presidential nomination — and his subsequent fall in the face of infidelity allegations — played like an actual Chappelle Show skit. It would’ve been a breeze for him to adapt Cornbread’s 15 minutes of fame to a comedy sketch.

3. Real Housewives of Atlanta/Basketball Wives

The frequent, vicious catfights that now dominate these shows are just the kinds of ridiculous pop culture phenomena Chapelle was so great at skewering. Can you imagine his take on Nene Leakes or Tami Roman?

4. “Metrosexual Black Abe Lincoln”

Just today, some Super PAC attack ad decided to characterize the president as a “metrosexual, black Abraham Lincoln,” in what has instantly become an internet meme for the ages. Oh, the places Chappelle could go with this one.

5. T.O.’s Woes

It’s harsh to poke fun at a man while he’s down, but Terrell Owens seems to be on a one-man campaign to goad comedians into trading barbs at his expense. Between holding an athletic exhibition where no recruiters showed, talking frequently to the media about his financial straits, and taking to Dr. Phil to discuss his visitation and child support drama, it’d be hard for Chappelle not to joke at his expense.

What would you like to see Dave Chappelle come out of semi-retirement to address?