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Things We Lost In The War, Pt. 1: Why We Don't Get Along

Every Monday through November 1 here at The Black Snob, I'll be floating my various theories about what black people have lost in our efforts to survive post-Reconstruction and how that has negatively impacted us today. To start this Monday I will attempt to address why there seems to be so much frustration and strife over the state of the black family. My take? Follow the money. Or in this case, the jobs.

As in ... there aren't any.

More after the jump.

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And A Happy Birthday To Meeeeee! (Photos)

Me on the way to my birthday party on FridayThanks to my good friends Lola Gets and SavvyBroad I had a wonderful birthday party on Friday, featuring some of my closest friends in Washington, D.C. (and a cameo appearance by one of my oldest friends from high school, Tiffany). It all went down at Sonoma Restaurant & Wine Bar on Capitol Hill (223 Pennsylvania Ave. SE). We had wines, meats and cheese that I could not pronounce at the bougiest birthday party I've ever had in my entire life.

The Snob approves!

More after the jump.

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I Was Born In '77, Now I'm 33! Hooray For Meeee!

Tis mah birfdey. Justin Beez just wanted to say "Hootie hoo!"Today is October 8th. The day I was all kinds of born. I was born during some game of the World Series that my father's favorite team, the Los Angeles Dodgers, would go on to lose. Jimmy Carter was the President. My parents would go on to vote for him ... both times. I wasn't supposed to be born that day, according to my doctor. I was six weeks early. Largely because even as a fetus, I did not plan and just did whatever I wanted to do on my own schedule. I'LL TELL YOU WHEN I NEED TO BE BORN, DOC!

With that said, I'm taking the weekend off. See you Monday, snobs! Keep ya' noses up!