Profunksticated

Profunksticated’s Spouse called today to tell him the actor-comedian Bernie Mac passed away. I went online and read the story. Turns out he had a lung disease and he died of complications of pnuemonia.

Wow, I thought. Those damn lung diseases. A lung disease is what killed my brother’s wife this year.

As for Bernie Mac, dude was only 50. (For you young-uns, when you’re 48, you’re entitled to refer to someone as “only 50.”)

I marvel at how much Bernie Mac has accomplished from the time I first saw him perform on HBO’s Def Comedy Jam in the early ’90s. He opened by telling the audience, “I ain’t scared of you m—-r-f—–s!” That cracked me up, although I wondered why he opened with such an in-your-face pronouncement

I later read that the DCJ audience would heckle comics they thought sucked, a la Showtime at the Apollo, but the heckling was edited out of the show. That’s why Bernie Mac would take the stage like he did.

With all that Bernie Mac has done in nearly 20 years in the entertainment business, I hope his affairs are in proper order and he doesn’t leave behind a mess like another iconic entertainer, one James Brown.

Mr. Mac’s story leads my to a conversation I had today with my landlady, who constantly exhorts me to work to become an author. “If I had your talent, I know what I’d do!” she says. “If you don’t want the money (royalties), give it to me!”

And at the same time I had today’s Washington Post in front of me, where I saw this article, where it says that at life’s end, people’s biggest regrets are the things they didn’t try. The minister advises us to “set God-sized goals.”

Bernie Mac apparenly set some God-sized goals, even if God didn’t look too kindly on Bernie’s use of profane language in his routines.

With Bernie Mac in my head, my landlady in my ear and the article before my eyes, I do believe God once again is trying to tell me to go for what it is I want. First I’ve got to struggle to get out of my own head and make that move to my heart.

Peace.