First, let's talk about the politicians. Outside of John Ashcroft, I never knew of a politician that could sing. . . a few of them do a lot of screaming, huffing, stomping to the beat of their own political drummer.

As far as the late Gerald Ford is concerned, gotta be honest with y'all. . . I like him a lot better than Bush. (Daddy Bush is cool, hope he hangs around a bit longer.)

Maybe I liked Gerald because his son was a soap opera star on "The Young and The Restless." Or maybe I like him because he wasn't elected. . .he just "took over" and didn't wimp out when the country needed him.

Even if you weren't a Republican, Ford just had this "nice warm fuzzy feeling" that he left with people, and still kept his dignity about him even when he'd get sick on sushi when attending various events.

And his name matched the kind of cars I admire: Jaguar, manufactured by none other than. . . .Ford.

Even if our more recently belated president was a singer, I'm sure he had record collections. (Records. Remember? Those black round things with groove in the middle and a iddy-biddy hole that you put on a silver spindle on a turn table that went around and around and. . . oh phooey if you're that young reading this article, ask your grandparent what a record player is. But in short it's sorta like an mp3 player. (By the way, what's an mp3?)

Talk about feeling like an oldie! As I venture into the age range known as "the fifities" (re-dubbed as the NEW FORTIES) my heart sinks a bit lower when I hear about how some of the world's greatest balladeers are no longer with us. Ford must have sighed just a bit when on December 25, he realized that James Brown took a one-way flight hoping to debut for Ed Sullivan's variety show in the sky.

Sure we could banter back and forth about who was the greatest. . . Sam Cooke, Ella Fitzgerald, Nat "King" Cole, Lou Rawls Gregory Hines and such. But those were the ones in my childhood that I didn't really appreciate until I became a bit more, shall we say, . . . "vintage"

But on Christmas Day, when James Brown crossed over, I felt a little more of an emptiness. When JB wrote "Say it Loud" and "Pass the Peas" I was in the midst of a social revolution within myself. The school I attended was an all white school. Being "negro numero uno" was a bit of a psychologically scathing experience in 1966 and 1967. And if it hadn't be for the Godfather of Soul, I would have nothing on which to release (or shall we say, dance out) my frustrations.

Although I'm more socially ethnically well-adjusted past my days of calling white folks honkies, you're also correct to think that (here it comes) "some of my best friends are white!" cliche, . .  . we'll they are!). Still, James Brown brought people together with the kind of music and inescapable beats that still make us bob our heads; his music was one that was clean, decent, and thank God the man knew all about discipline, professionalism, and how to be a man "in a (white business) man's world.

So it is with a most humble heart that I share my latest "release" in my spirit about someone whose music made me feel secure in a world that hated having to admit that it was racially screwed up. In a lot of ways it still is screwed, but you know what, we gotta learn as business people to "Open up da doh, I'll git it muh'sef"

Ebonics-Smonics, I'm keepin' it real. JB sure did, right to the point and in my opinion he deserves a monument in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. . . right next to Elvis.