Thursday, January 31, 2008

How Do You Lose A Day?

Can somebody please answer that question for me? How is it possible to lose a whole freaking day, because my ass most diffinitely managed to do it. Yeap, that's right folks. I haven't quite hit forty, but senility is kicking my black ass. The on set of it is a bitch, and to be aware if it coming ain't no joke.
Let me tell you what happened. This might be a boring ass story, so feel free to stop reading now and move on to the next blog. Or, you can just answer the question. You don't have to have read my sad tale in order to give a brother some insight.
At any rate, my body, which I can usually always count on to get me up in time for important events, snaps me awake @ 6:05. And when I tell you I must have been sleeping better than a bear on a honeycomb overdoes, you best believe it, because when I looked at the clock and saw what time it was I went into a panic. My ass was late for the very first over-time assignment I have been allowed to work since I got promoted to sergeant. (What better way to set an example and build confidence in your troups than to be late, right?) Well, you should have saw me. My mind went into a tizzy. Why didn't my television turn on to wake me up like it was suppose to? Had I set it for the wrong time? Which is completely possible. Had there been a power outage that reset the time on my television? This too is not beyond the relm of possiblities, because for some reason when my power goes off my t.v's time will reset to midnight, but not my phone clock. Go figure. Anyway, no time to wonder about that. My ass was suppose to be at the station at 5pm! I'm already an hour late and I am no where near in a suitable condition to report to work. Fuck it! If I hurry, I'll just be an hour and thirty minutes late, big deal. As long as the troops showed up on time, they already know what is expected of them on these over-time assignments. I'm just there to sign their over-time cards and caculate their activity and the amount of over-time money was expended for the day. Still, why didn't anybody from the station call to inquire where I was? I figured that maybe they just didn't call sergeants on such matters. Hell, I didn't know, this shit is still new to me.
Anyway, It is now six oh seven and and I am ashy, unshaven, and disoreinted then a bitch (and probably a little bit musty). No time to shave, no time to bush my teeth, no time to do shit but throw on my uniform and get out the door. Lawd knows that at this point I don't want to be more than an hour and a half late. So, I throw on my uniform, find a pair of mix-matched socks to put on with my boots (no one will notice), squeese some toothpaste in my mouth, add warm water and swish (yeah, that'll work), wet a wash cloth and scrub the top on my head with it (the ghetto version of washing my hair) and then under both arm pits, but I'll be damned if I didn't forget to follow with deooderant (I wonder how long that will ward off the funk monsters?). Did I mention that I didn't bother to put on any drawers? Then I grab my keys, set my alarm and I am out the door.
I Run by the mail box. Check it. It's empty. Not uncommon. Sometimes I don't get any mail, not even junk, but I am wondering if it 6am or 6pm. Where are the noisy ass kids that normally keep me up playing basketball or talking loud (not always but some times). Oh, well, jump in my car. They are playing music, but is this am music or pm music. I can't tell and I am not so in tune with my radio stations that I keep track of the different voices of my dj's. So, I am driving like a bat out of hell (please don't wreckout, please don't get pulled over). As I am driving I am thinking about all of this, in the back of my mind I am still this morning traffic or evening traffic? I am looking at the darkness and wondering if it is morning darkness or evening darkness? I am looking at the lights on the businesses and the highway and wondering if these are morning lights or evening lights? Is this even Thursdays? Was yesterday Wednesday? Yeah, this has to be Thursday, because I looked at American Idol and the Real World Road Rules Challenge yesterday. But what time did I do to sleep? How long had I slept? I remembered talking to my twin, because she is the one that got me hyped up to do a post on the whoremongering Mayor, but still...Was I just wakiing up from an afternoon nap sleep or was I awakening from my day off, night time slumber? I honestly couldn't remember. I couldn't remember if I had feed the dog before I went to sleep. I didn't remember doing anything at all Thursday. Hell, it is not uncommon for my lazy ass not to do anything at all. But still, how had it gotten to be 6 in the evening?
Had I even eatten? Fuck, Fuck Fuck. What time is it? Is it AM or PM? Seriously, I had no idea. Until I drive up into the parking lot of our substation and I see Lisa's White Hummer. Lisa is a deep night sergeant, like me. She would still be at work so yeap, it is now 6:30 in the morning and I feel like a fool. How the fuck did I manage to lose a whole fucking day. And the reality is that I didn't even lose it, I just started the damn day too early. Hell, I didn't even get as much sleep as I thought I had. What the fuck is up with that? I'm telling yall...senility is kicking my ass!
I called Lisa and told her what I had done and she says I am just stressed out about all the drama that went on a couple of days back. I hope not, because I try not to bring the drama from work home with me. My mindset, when I get home and take off that uniform is Fuck the Police. LOL...No not really, but is is fuck all the childish drama and games going on. I don't have time or energy to waste dealing with it in my own house. Still, I can't believe that I fucked myself out of some much needed sleep time. Me and my brain are gonna have to have a little heart to heart talk. It probably thinks this shit is funny, but I got something for his ass (how do you punish a brain?)

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

What's It Gonna Take?

Muthafuckers are always trying to apologize for shit AFTER they done got caught. I got an idea. Don't do the shit. You knew it was wrong before you did it, while you were doing it, after you did it, and while your ass continued to do it over and over again. But your ass kept right on doing it, because although it was wrong it felt so right. Yeah, I am talking about the honorable Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick and his boogus ass speech of apology and how he will never "quit" on the people of Detroit. Hell, he quit on the people of Detroit when he was fucking that Ho, and make no mistake about it, the bitch is a Ho, nappy hair not withstanding. And why is she a ho, whore, skank, tramp, trollop, whatever? She is all these things because she knew Kilpatrick's big ass was married when she opened up her text notes and her legs to his sofa built ass. And as for his wife Carlita and that shit about how this should be a private moment betten her and her husband....Bump that shit. You want to work out your private matters in private than tell your husband to keep his privates in his pants and in your bedroom (or where ever y'all do ya'll nasty stuff at). Hell, when you put your shit in the street then don't act all suprise and offended when people call you to the table on it.
As for him resigning...Of course his black ass ain't gonna resign. Infidelity and shit ain't new to politics, it has just become more high tech. I wouldn't expect his ass to resign. If you want him out, y'all best rent the nearest bulldozer and have his fat ass hauled up out of there. He's crooked, I tells you.....and you wouldn't think somebody so big and round could be so crooked. Black folks are gonna get enough of standing behing negroes that do them dirty. I done told yall before, "when someone tells you who they are, you best to listen." This man is doing nothing to uplift us as a people. He is just making a mockery of the black race, and God knows we have enough of us doing that shit as it is. Yeah, I said it.
Now, I don't live in Detroit and I want pretend to know the state of affairs down there, but I did listen to his speech and heard him recant all of the marvelous things he has done for the city. Fuck that! What about the 8.4 million dollars he cost yours asses, because he wanted to be living dirty and got the cops who ratted his ass out, fired? What about that, Detroit?. And don't think for a minute that just because I don't live in Detroit that this mess doesn't effect my black ass, because it does. Hell, any negative thing that a black person does effects my black ass, wheiter I like it or not and yall know that crap is true.
Mark Anthony said it best, in Shakspeare's Juilus Ceasar, "the evil that men do live after them, the good is oft interred with the bones". For those of you who don't know, that means that people are quick to forget the good stuff that you do but will bring up ole shit in a minute. And you know that white folks always want to see the dirt on a brother. I don't care! Political correctness can bite my black booty; I'm gonna tell the truth and shame the devil today.

Now, keep in mind that I wasn't going to say anything about this matter. I was gonna let it fly on by, even after reading about it on one other blog and hearing about it on the radio, because I was like....Hey, they (the people of Detroit) knew he was a pimp when they elected him into office (in his Steve Harvey pimp gear). However, then I had to talk to my twin (ivent) and you know she always be starting some shyt (love ya, sis), I got all hyped up about how the brother done screwed over his wife, his kids and the people of Detroit. All of the people wo believed in him. And then his ass lied, like freshly killed road kill on the highway, about his little affair. You ain't gotta lie, Kwame. YOU AIN'T GOT LIE! I know that Clinton lied about his little sexual exscaped, but he still got caught up in his lie. Plus, I contend that Clinton might not be the best person to be taking your clue from, although I know that a lot of you (the ones of you who are dead dog dumb) still think of Clinton as our "first black president". What the fuck (see my very first post, ever)!

I'm gonna close this post by saying that grown men don't lie. They stand up for what they did or said and are ready to be held accountable for thier actions. Only children lie; and why do they lie? To get out of being spanked or sent to their rooms. I submit to you that a grown man that will look you in your eye and lie to you about the simpliest thing, will lie to you about anything. This bastard has looked you (people of Detroit) in eye and lied. So, what are you gonna do about it? I say, cut down the nearest tree, construct a big ass paddle, and commence to beating that ass.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

How come Sharpton ain't bringing his hefty ass out on this one? He quick to speak up on all things white. Hell, sometime black folks need to be called to the table on their bullshit too, Damn it!

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Norbit? Really?

When I first found out that the movie Norbit was nominated for an Academy Award I wonder if the Academy was making fun of black people again. You know how they do, making fun of our fine black entertainers by making a mockery out of this prestigious award by handing it out to shyster. First they give one to Halley Berry over Angela Basset, for best Actress (I know they were not up against each other). Then they honor Three 6 Mafia with one for best song. What the fuck? It might not be easy to be a pimp, but that Oscar damn sho' did drive a wedge between that rap group. Now, I gotta admit that I've never seen the movie, Norbit, although I am sure that it a fine example of cinema at its best. I mean, we all know that that Eddie Murphy only stars in movies that have socially redeemable values for us Blackies. How could we forget his award worthy performance as a Black vampire in Vampire in Brooklyn, he and Kedeem Hardison. Or, his most recent role as a strictly heterosexual man who marries Tracy Edmonds....Oh, wait....scratch that one.
For some reason when black people are in movies it throws the Academy awards into a tizzy and they can't decide how to pick someone or something black to put in for their token. I can understand their dilemma. I mean, it can't be easy to make such decisions for movies that you have never seen. Y'all know damn well those white folks ain't watching no movie's starring no Jungle Bunnies. Hell, that shyt would be uncivilized. So, what I image they do is find out what movies were out with black folks in them, write the names on strips of paper and place them into a hat, then they go to one of their white people parties. Get sloppy drunk and then one of the hookers they flew in from Norway pulls a name from the hate. Then the next day, when they are all sobered up, they take a look at the potential nominee and make the decision on what to nominate it for. (Are you guys sure I'm not racist?)
Anyways, as it turns out Norbit's academy award nomination for Achievement in Make-up has very little to do with the movie, its actors or their blackness, and everything to do with Mr. Rick Baker and Kazuhiro Tsuji (neither of who are black). It seems that this is Mr. Baker's eleventh nomination from the Academy, in the area. He has been nominated in the past for the following movies:
LIFE (1999) -- Nominee, Makeup
MIGHTY JOE YOUNG (1998) -- Nominee, Visual Effects
MEN IN BLACK (1997) -- Winner, Makeup
THE NUTTY PROFESSOR (1996) -- Winner, Makeup
ED WOOD (1994) -- Winner, Makeup
COMING TO AMERICA (1988) -- Nominee, Makeup
HARRY AND THE HENDERSONS (1987) -- Winner, Makeup
This is only Kazhiro Tsuji's second Academy Award nomination. He was previously nominated for:
CLICK (2006) -- Nominee, Makeup
Any, because I am a big supporter in all things black I am sending out my good vibes for Norbit to take home this Oscar. The way I see it, if the white man wins the black man wins by default. Plus, we can start preparing ourselves for Norbit 2 "Son of Norbit". I can't wait. I mean, I won't go see it or anything, but I'll be hoping that Three 6 Mafia gets the opportunity to do the sound track for it.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Black Enough

It is no secrete, by now, that I am not a guy who is into sports. I'm just never got into them growing up. I don't like basketball, football, baseball, golf, cricket,
synchronized swimming, tether ball, none of the biggies. However, I do love me some tennis. I don't know why. Maybe because that
was the only sport that I played in college, in order to get my wellness credit. (Remember when they use to call it P.E.?)
That being said, I will only watch tennis when black folks are playing. Needless to say, I don't watch a lot of tennis. Yesterday,
Blake Lewis lost out to some white boy (Federer, I think his name was). I believe it was also yesterday that Serena Williams lost,
leaving me only Venus to hang my hopes on; or so I thought. This morning I was watching my DVR saved match of the men's finals at
the Australian Open, when I saw this match up between some guy, who was obviously white. I could tell by the long flowing locks of
blondish-brown hair. However, the other guy.....The other guy I was not too sure of. Was he black? His hair didn't move when he ran, not unlike a black man. His skin was dark, not unlike a black man. And he had a black man's carriage, if you know what I mean. Still, I wasn't quite sure if he was "black like me", so I decided to watch him play. The kid's name was Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, and he was playing some kick ass tennis; taking out the world's No. 2 seed, Rafael Nadal. I found myself mesmerized. I was like, "look at this boy play!" Hell, he could be black, damn it. His features were about as blackish as Black....I mean, Blake Lewis. As it turned out, Tsonga is not black, but French (but there are Black folks in France). I'd have to have a look see at his parents to make a judgement call, but for my purposes, Tsonga was black enough. I'll be continue to watch his ass play and counting his wins on the black side.

So, my question to you is....Does this make me a racist? I don't feel as if I am a racist. I treat all people the same. I love everyone equally, but when it comes to my folks against their folks I want my folks to come out on top. Is that a racist state of mind? I know that if I read this same sentiments on a white person's blog I would label them a a racist and not think twice about it. They'd be racist and I'd be calling Al Sharpton. So, am I a racist? Do I need to look it up? I know I'm prejudice, I believe everyone to fit that label...but racist? That's a totally different matter all together.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Monday, January 21, 2008

Oh Freedom

Okay, I don't know what is going on. I'm no poet and my black as sho' nuff know it, however, I went
to take a look at my boy, Raw Buffalo's web sight and he wrote a wonderful post entitled; "We Ain't Free".
I thought about his post for most of the day and while I was on my way home from the doctor's office (Yes,
The Doctor's office on Dr. King's birthday), I found myself trying to spit verse on the back of an envelope as
I drove home. That crap ain't safe. So, here is another attempt at poetry from your one and only me.
I titled it: Sit Your Black Ass Down. (It's a working title. LOL).
We ain't free.
Yeah, you heard me.
Look around and see,
How we ain't free.
We ain't free.
How could we be?
With me killing you,
And you killing me.
Who, we? Free?
Are you kidding me?
Best look again,
You wanna be "G".
Oh, you think you free?
Why is that "B"?
Just 'cause you drive
a bigger car than me?
What you dancing for fool?
Yo ass ain't free.
You best look in this boat,
'cause you right next to me.
Naw, we ain't free,
But we pretend to be.
With our fake African names.
What's your Black History?
Boy, you ain't free.
This is modern slavery.
They'll still hang your ass,
from the tallest of tree.
Girl, you ain't free.
Oh, you playing with me.
'Cause a blind man can see,
that yo ass ain't free.
Chile you ain't free,
so get away from me.
Freedom comes with a price.
Have you paid that price "G"?
You a "nappy headed hoe".
A nigger, a bitch.
How can you be free,
When they still label you this?
Naw, we ain't free,
but I wanna be.
That's why every night
I get down on one knee.
I'm praying for guidance,
some insight, some light.
That someday we'll get past
that ole Slavery plight.
But we still ain't free,
You best listen to me.
Cause I just want us to be
the best We we can be.
You can talk all your slang
and that yakety yak.
But when it comes right down to it,
Yo ass is still BLACK!
(Yeah, I'm talking to your shrimp fried, black ass, Tiger Woods! LOL. Naw, I'm just kidding.)
-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

I Have A Dream, Damn It!

This morning I had to aid our SWAT team talk a man that looks like me into custody, because he held his ex-girl friend hostage at knife point, for three days. I tried to get the man, who was forty-three years old, to give himself up peacefully, but no. He decides to barricade his self into the apartment. As I watched him go to jail, in shackles, all I could think of is the fact that it was the day we choose to commemorate Dr. Martin Luther King's Birthday, Damn it! Isn't it amazing how hard our ancestors fought to get us out of shackles and how easily we give people a reason to put ourselves back in them?
Here is a quote from the good Dr. King. I thought it was appropriate for the blog of a Police Sergeant.
"An individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust, and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the highest respect for the law."
Have a blessed and Happy Dr. King Day. And remember. We all have a dream, Dr. King just got to chance to tell his to the world.
-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

You Best Recognize

This stab at poetry was inspired by a talk I had with my blog "twin", Brie, today. You know her better as Iventbyblogging. Anyway, I don't claim to be a poet, so don't be too harsh, especial you, Shazza and Dimples. Besides, if it sucks, you can blame it on Brie-Brie.
You knew I was black when you met me.
I didn't hide the fact.
You knew I was black when you met me.
So, don't act surprised how I act.
My brown eyes, they did not deceive you.
My full lips I couldn't hide.
So don't act shocked when you see that,
I'm filled with that wondrous black Pride.
You knew I was black when you met me.
My hair was still kinky, even then.
You knew I was black when you met me.
You knew me and Kunta were kin.
My chest was so full.
My shoulders back and wide.
I Held my head high,
and walk with a stride.
You knew I was black when you met me.
I don't be playing no games.
You knew I was black when you met me.
Hell, you could even tell by my name.
I had big ole flat feet.
My hands strong and rough.
So don't act all shocked,
'cause my attitude's gruff.
You knew I was black when you met me.
I was blasting my R and B tunes.
You knew I was black when you met me.
So why did you change so soon?
Are you ashamed of my pride?
To be seen by my side.
Does it make you feel like less,
'cause I know I'm the best?
You knew I was black when you met me.
Now you wanna be all shy.
You knew I was black when you met me.
Can someone please tell me, girl. Why?
You knew I was Negro,
A loud Jigga-boo.
You knew I was vocal,
I can't change that in for you.
You knew I was black when you met me.
What part of this didn't you get?
You knew I was black when you met me.
That's why you choose me to get with.
But now when I'm loud it upsets you.
Why do black folks tend to shout?
Girl, you best get with the program.
'cause we gots lots to shout 'bout.
You best hear my cry of denial.
A dream so often deferred.
A cry of racial injustice.
Profiling I didn't deserve.
You knew I was black when you met me.
Don't act like you didn't know.
You knew I was black when you met me.
Girl, you almost made me call you a "hoe".
But no, I want disrespect you.
My mom didn't raise me that way.
Too many black women have suffered.
For me to threat women that way.
Still, you knew I was black when you met me.
You act like I should be ashamed.
You hang your head low, you don't get me.
But I stand proud on my Ancestral name.
-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

No Noose is Good Noose

Okay, here it is folks. The cover that started it all. So, what do you think? Are you offended? Are you put off? Does it make you blood boil with rage? Because, I gotta tell you. It didn't bother me one bit. Now, although I did not read the article, I have to say that I find the picture to be quite apropos for the subject matter. I mean, it's not like they hung a brother from the damn thing. So, why all the controversy? Why did someone, namely the now ex-vice president and editor of Golf Weekly (Dave Seanor), have to be fired for making the choice to put that noose on that cover? Hell, he wasn't even the person who made the inflammatory comment on how new, up and coming golfers should take Tiger Woods black ass into a back alley and lynch him. That would have been that blonde heifer, Kelly Tilghman; and all she got was a smack on the ass....What? A two week suspension? Whoop de fucking do! I'm sure that hurt (note the sarcasm). And her ass wouldn't have suffered any repercussion from the comment if CNN had not commented on the remark, leading to Super Perm, Al Sharpton, getting wind of it and calling for her termination. And yet she doesn't get fired and this poor smook, Seanor, does. Can somebody explain that to me?
I mean, I give the guy credit for taking full responsibility for making the decision to put the noose on the cover in the first place; although I'm thinking that if he had any inclination that stand up would've cost him his job he might have went another route. Y'all know that shit is fucked up. That boy didn't need to get fired for this crap. As a matter of fact, if someone hadn't have made a big deal out of the cover he would still have his job today. As with all things, the shit didn't become a problem until it became a problem. They have accused Mr. Seanor of putting the Noose on the cover of the magazine in order to increase sells. Er, duh. Ain't that the purpose of a cover, to draw people in, in order to make more sells. Ain't that why magazine traditionally post famous folk and pretty people on the cover of their magazines, in order to increase sells? I don't believe that the purpose behind this cover had anything to do with race (noose not withstanding) so, what the fuck? I gots to tell, I just don't understand.
C'mon now, you people know me (not the racial "you people" mind you); y'all know I like to focus on our folks in my blog, but an injustice has been done in my humble opinion. I don't think this man should have been fired for putting a noose on cover of Golf Weekly any more so than I think that Tilghman should have been fired for making the off color comment about lynching Tiger Woods. Hell, if you really wanna know, I didn't think Don Imus should have been fired for his "Nappy Headed Hoes" comment. We all know those chicks hair were fucking nappy; I could careless that they got it all permed up for when they went on Oprah. The reality is that when you take a black woman and add sports, running, and sweat to the equation, you are gonna get some nappy-headed, ass women. Hell, even the white bitches on the team hair was nappy. Now, whether or not they were Hoes is an entirely different matter altogether. But I digress.
Let us get back to the topic at hand, shall we. I gotta admit, maybe I am not as upset as I should be because all of this revolves around Tiger Woods and golf. Hell, if Tiger Woods isn't insulted why should I be? Besides, that boy don't even claim us as a people. He considers his ass to be "Blasian" or some shit like that, know damn well with the exception of his big ass teeth and slanty eyes, his rusty butt looks like every other jiggerboo walking down the fairway. Not to mention that according to his representative, Tiger and Kelly are friends (like Sigman the Sea Monster and John and Scott), and he knows that she did not mean to offend him. Yeah, right. I believe that shit like I believe that Oprah can spin straw into gold. Like I believe Whitney Houston only used Cocaine for medicinal purposes (and y'all know I loves me some Whitney). That bitch made that comment because she was seeing Tiger's black....naw, fuck that...she was seeing the nigger in Tiger. Yeah, I gotta say it. Hell, she might as well have called his ass Tigger (and I'm not making a Winnie the Pooh reference). If it had been a white golfer I'm thinking that her mind would have went some place other than lynching. Boy, when somebody shows you who they are, you best believe them! But, that's okay. When Tiger slices the throat of that blonde bitch he married, he'll find out just how black they see his ass. He'd better ask OJ.
But, in all seriousness. I am well aware of all the racial baggage that surrounds the noose. I realize that it raises about as much racial controversy as the word nigger does, but I don't see it as being as informatory as the media is making it. So, you tell me. Is it all that bad, the above cover? Should someone have lost their job over it? IWas it meant to be racially motivated? I personally don't think so. I am so sick of these knee jerk reactions to shit. We gotta develop thicker skins, people. There are way more serious injustices going on in this world that the media needs to be focusing on. Hell, I'm sure Britney Spears is doing something right now that merits our attention. Let's focus on her, shall we? White people make me sick! (ha, ha. Just kidding. You know I loves me some white people. Hell, I think they are more pissed off about the noose than us.)
-One Man's Opinion. Peace.
Seriously, can I get some fucking peace, damn!

Wake Up Everybody

I love this song so I am posting it just in time for Dr. King's birthday. It is amazing to me how this old songs still remain relevant to what is going on in today's society. I also post this song to go along with the post that will follow, regarding Golf Weekly and the firing of the Editor because he made the questionable decision to picture a Noose on the cover.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Ashes to Ashes

So, since I spent the majority of this week with my family I think I learned some new stuff about myself. Actually, I didn't actually learn anything new, I just had to come to terms with some things. One of those things is that I am one ashy son of a gun. I am so ashy that it ain't even cute. I know the reason why I am ashy (I usually use the term rusty); it is because I don't use lotion. I hate the way lotion, greases and oils feel on my skin. I always have. I don't put oil in my hair. I mean, I don't even use lubricants when I masturbate. Er, I mean, when I use to masturbate, when I was way younger, because of course I don't do indulge in that kind of stuff now. Not that there is anything wrong with masturbation, mind you. I mean if that's you I ain't mad at ya, but.....Er, awkward pause.....Moving on.....
Anyway, my ashiness is something that I can deal with because normally it goes unnoticed. However, when you are sitting on the floor in the DT room (Defensive Tactics) and you notice, as the legs of your trousers rise up just enough for you to notice that your ankles are a whole different shade than the rest of you. So, you spend the rest of the day trying to to keep you pants legs from rising up, because you don't want anyone to see just how ashy you have allowed your ankles to get. I'm telling you, it may be normal for a white person to have a tan line, but there is nothing attractive about a brother with an ash line. That crap ain't right. And, as you might very well know, your ash factor is increased if you go outside, right after taking a bath or shower, and the cold air hits your skin. (That is just basic black skin chemistry people. Look it up).
So, to solidify this crap, my little nephew has this thing where he can't stand for people to leave their shoes on (what the hell is up with that?), so he always forces me to take off my shoes. Now, of course my nephew could careless about the state of my feet or my ash level, nor could my little brother...But my little sister is another story all together. She has no problem letting a brother know how ashy he is and pulling up the pants leg to see just how far up the ash reaches. No, I don't need to borrow no lotion! I have all kinds of the stuff at home. I just can't bring myself to use it. However, since I was so ashy that it made me ashamed, I broke down and lotioned up. For some reason this weather is recking havoc on my skin. It is all dry and pealing and shyt. I don't like it at all. I can actually deal with the ash, but the peeling is something new and it is gonna drive my ass nuts. I ain't lying.

One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Now, seriously. Did you guys honestly miss this kind of drivel? LOL

Not My Fault

I know. I know. I know. I am so sorry that I have not posted in a weeks time and I am flattered that I was missed. For those of you aware of my illness last year, I assure you that I am doing well and my lack of post-able things has nothing to do with my being hospitalized again. The sad truth behind my absence is quite simple really. My damn lap top exploded and left me high and dry. Well, it didn't actually explode, but it did stop responding on Sunday and I was forced to do something that caused me to lose all my data, which included my documents, pictures and wireless Internet connection. Now, when you take all that into account and you add to it the fact that all this week I have been at the police academy, updating my training, you might understand more why I have not had the opportunity to update my blog.
Normally, when at the academy, I can have access to the Internet, but since the city that I work for is so hell bent on hiring the most recruits they can at one time, they have purchased another property for the in-service classes. This property does not have access for in-service officers to check their emails or do anything else that requires the Internet. Needless to say, if it ain't happening with my family, I have no idea what is going on in this big, beautiful world of ours. I have also been mission out on the goings ons of my wonderful brothers in sisters of the blog.
That being said, on the positive side, going to in-service classes, since they are done during regular work hours, did allow me to spend everyday this week with my mom, 2-year old nephew and my little brother and sister (they are twins and they are 29). I had a wonderful time with my family. Working nights I don't get to spend that much time with them, because I am normally sleep or sleepy. This was a non-issue this week. Although, my little nephew will wear a brother out. That little brother is all over me. He is the happiest kid you ever want to meet. There is no doubt that the little monster is loved. And he thinks everything is funny. I told him I'm gonna start beating his butt with a stick and it just cracks him up. Which cracks me up, even though I am dead serious. LOL.
Anyway, although I was away from you good people, you were never out of my mind. I sort of have the problem fixed, as far of the wireless Internet connection is concerned. I say sort of because I can't get it to stay connected, which is annoying.
Oh, and any spell checks you find on this post, please forgive. I am not the best speller in the word and my Microsoft word is one of the things I lost when this damn thing went haywire on me.
-One Man's Opinion. Peace.
Soooo, have my peeps be acting the fools or what?

Monday, January 14, 2008

Where Is Your Faith?

I want to walk and talk with Jesus each and everyday.
I want my life to be an example for Him and everyway.
I want to treat my brothers and sisters the way He want me to.
Because He said do onto others as you would have them do unto you.
I want Him to show me with his blessings, for up above.
As He rocks me and rocks me and rocks me, in the cradle of His love.

I want Him lead me and guide me in everything I, say and do.
In His service I want Him to choose me and use me the way He wants to.
What a wonderful, mighty counselor, Prince of Peace is He.
All I want each day is just a closer, walk with Thee.
Because I love Him, I love Him, I love Him.
And I know He loves me.

When I was much, much young and my step-father forced us to leave our membership with the Methodist faith and join the Baptist faith, I will admit to being quite resentful. Unlike my older sisters, who were much more outgoing and open to change, I fought the embrace of this new church home and as a result, never quite ever fit in. I was in the third grade at the time of this change and didn’t quite understand the difference at the time. I did know that the Methodist Church seemed to be more subdued in their worshiping practices, where as the Baptist were more vocal, more animated. Also, for some reason the Baptist always seemed to be wanting my money. I was a kid…I had no money.

For some reason, while I was at work the other day, I found myself singing the song above. I love that song and I would never have learned it if I had not be shanghaied from one church to another. Nor would I probably have the kind of relationship today that I have with God. I guess I can thank my Step-father (who has passed away) for that, even though he and I never had the best of relationships.

I really don’t have a point to this post. I guess you can just chalk it up to randomness, but that song makes me happy. Something in those words fills my spirit and I just felt the need to spread the sentiment with the folks of Blog town. Those words say everything; everything about me and how I would like to be perceived as living my life. I will admit that I don’t always live up to every stanza as I would like, but I try my best. And I do Love Him, Love Him, Love Him. And I know He Love me. I guess, in the end that’s all that matters, the fact that I loved me some Jesus. Heck, I don’t think I could do the job I do without having Him by my side.

Anyway, take this post as you will. Consider it, for the first time….

-One Man’s Testimony. Peace.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

The Never-Ending Stupidity

I’m about as tired of hearing about O.J. Simpson as white folks probably are of hearing about that skank Britney Spears. I don’t care anymore! Unless he gets shanked, attempts suicide or is anally raped by his midget cellmate I could really careless about what is going on with his dumbass. Let he old ass go to jail and be done with it. Who cares? Not me. He obviously wants to be there or he would stop doing stupid ass shit.
C’mon, the man quite possibly gets away with murder back in 1995, is Scott-free for years and then decides he wants all his shit, which he forfeited mind you, back. What the fuck is up with that?
So what does he do? He gets a bunch of his bootleg, old ass, wanna be gangstas friends together and attempts to take back what is rightfully his. This nig…er, idiot has been watching way too many of those Oceans Eleven movies. So, now they have him up on charges of kidnapping, armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, burglary, coercion, conspiracy and being just an over-all dumbass jiggaboo (which, in my opinion is the most serious crime of all).
He is cut free again, and you know how much we black folks love our freedom; back on Sept. 19th after posting a bail of $125,000 (God only knows where he got that money. Probably keeps it buried out back with the knife). So then what does this 60 years old, needs to sit his ass down some where and grow old gracefully, dumbass bastard do? He violates the terms of his bail (I’m sorry…allegedly violates the terms of his bail) when he attempts to make contact with one of his co-defendants. And how does he attempt to make contact with said defendant? By trying to get his bail bondsman, Miquel Pereira, to pass the message on to the man. The bail bondsman who is pissed off because he says he has yet to be paid for handling Simpson’s bail in the first place. Are you fucking kidding me? And to top it all off, O.J. put the message on tape!
Are we seriously allowing people this fucking stupid to live? If we are can we at least putting them in cages, where they can be safe. The more I hear about O.J.’s foolish exploits, the more I am convinced that he couldn’t possibly had killed his ex-wife and Ron Goldman. The man is too dumb to chew gum and take a piss at the same time, let alone commit a double homicide. C’mon now.
Okay, here’s the funny part, because all the rest of this shit is just sad; Mr. Pereira, whose ass is probably just a work visa away from being departed his damn self, is pissed because he was never paid the $18,750 he was due for posting bail for Mr. Simpson. He is quoted as saying; “I’m in the bag for plane tickets, car rental down in Florida, even the $40 filing fee at the jail.” Okay…Well who fault is that? Where the fuck have you been, Miquel, in Puerto Rico? Everyone knows O.J. don’t pay his fucking bills. Ask the Goldman family! Hell, read a freakin’ tabloid for Pete sakes!
Well, at any rate, Mr. Simpson is back in jail (for the time being). Let’s hope he stays there until we can at least get Obama a little closer to the White House. God know for every step forward Barack makes, for Negro-kind, Simpson, roller-skates us back a yard.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Yall like how I slipped a little political plug up in there? HA!

Friday, January 11, 2008

Just Another Day In The Life Of...

Today was a very long day. I got into work at ten thirty the night before and ended up not getting off until one o’clock the following afternoon. When I went into work last night I already knew that is was going to be a long day because I was already scheduled to go to IAD to write a statement in reference to the lying scum bag who excused me and my officers of beating him up and stealing his money. This guy was such an idiot, the guy making the accusation not the guy investigation the allegation. He made his complaint after I gave the order for his dumb ass to be arrested when he refused to leave the inside of the location that was operating well past the time allot for it to still be in operation. Little does he know that bogus complaints don’t frighten me because I do all things open and above board. Not to mention that the people he thought were under cover officer where members of our Community Prosecution and one of them took pictures of everything we did, at every club we went to, that night. And there were nice clear picture of his money when it was placed on the table. Pictures of when I went into banker mood and put all the money in order by denominations, with all the heads of the little presidents facing the same direction (I use to be a teller) and counted it all out in front of him before placing it back into his pocket and having his dumb ass carted off to jail. (Keep in mind that at the time that he made his accusation, on the day in question, he refused to tell me how much money he’d had so I could verify whether or not any was missing. The fat bastard.)
After IAD I was scheduled to go to County Court as a witness regarding an Aggravated Assault with a Deadly Weapon (family violence) arrest that I had made sometime back. I was supposed to be in Court at nine that morning. After Court I was going to go back out to the hospital to sit with my sister for a little while, although that heifer never came to see me while I was in the hospital (I’m just kidding. She wanted to come see me, just as everyone else who loves me wanted too, but I request that they didn’t. I hate to have visitor in the hospital. I like to be left alone and their present we do nothing but serve to depress me. That’s just how my mind works).

Anyway, I ended up not making any of my scheduled appointment on time and it is all due to the fact that I personally on viewed three male suspects as they jumped into a car, driven by a female, as they made attempted to make their get away from a home invasion robbery of an apartment.

It all started off simple enough. I was going into one of the more troubled apartment complexes in my sector. These apartments are actually quite nice but sadly they have some somewhat shady characters residing in them. My evening’s counterpart had informed me that his troops had assisted in running a big drug bust inside of the apartment complex and told me the number of the apartment that was doing the biggest business, so that I could pass it on to my troops (which I did). Around 3:11 that morning I roll into the apartment complex in question, just to see what kind of traffic is going on inside of them. As it happens, there is a car parked on the wrong side, right in front of the leasing office, lights out. I was just about to spot light it when the driver, a heavy set female, turns on the light and drives away. Before she can get out of the complex I have already run her tags, just to make sure they were clear, which they were, so I was gonna let her make it (she hadn’t really done anything anyway).

I was preparing to make my rounds through the complex but before I could, this stupid heifer comes back into the apartment complex. Be aware that my mind has already went to the idea that she had probably dropped somebody off to purchase drugs and was waiting for them to return. Sadly, if she’d only had enough sense to just drive around the block, allow me to make my sweep of the apartments, and then return after I’d left she would have escaped my radar altogether, but the fact that she returned so quickly and decide to back into a space near the front entrance only served to pique my interest even more (did I mention that she was driving one of those older car where the rims cost more than the vehicle itself? In the area that I’m over, nine times out of ten, these types of cars are driven primarily by our local drug dealers and gang bangers). At any rate, I make a u-turn inside of the complex, drove slowly by her car and made like I am driving out of the apartment complex. However, instead of leaving the complex I turn out my lights and park further down from her, in an inconspicuous spot. After waiting for about fifteen minutes I was about to give up and just go approach her vehicle and ask her who she was waiting for in the apartment complex so earlier in the morning (I would have said “late at night”). Before I could make that decision here comes three young men, running from in-between the buildings, two caring little flat screen television set. They all came from around different sides of the apartment but they all jumped into the vehicle being driven by the female. That was enough for me.
As she put the car in gear and was driving out of the apartment complex I was already on the radio, requesting cover on the possible burglary, as I turned on my head lights and was on top of them like R. Kelly on a fourteen year old girl. How come this dumb bitch runs the red light, right in front of me, only cementing my reason for contact? I love my stupid ass criminal and I love my troops. In less than a minute three of my troops, in three different squad cars, where out with me and we made a traffic stop and put all four occupants of the vehicle in cuffs. (This is how loyal my troops are. One of them said he was in the middle of taking a piss when he heard me request cover, stopped in mid-stream, zipped up and was on his way. What? That’s love.)
Long story short, minute after we have affect this arrest and listened to the various lies regard the stolen merchandise, a home invasion robbery comes out from inside of the apartment complex. It is amazing how slowly information is passed from 9-11, to dispatch, to the patrol officer. It turned out that the people they had robbed, one of which was in her ninth month of pregnancy, did not have a phone and had to drive to a pay phone to call the police. If I had not had my nosey drawers on these jokers would have gotten off scot-free.
I love, love, LOVE catching the bad guys. There is no greater feeling in the world than knowing that you have put someone in jail that has victimized another individual. My whole body tingles with the excitement of not only the capture but the chase. The only way I can describe the feeling is that it makes my dick hard. I ain’t playing. Well, it doesn’t literally make my dick hard, and I know some of you bastards will take me literally, but that is the best analogy I can give you. If that doesn’t explain it, than nothing will.
Of course after that everything went down hill, I had a confrontation with the physical evidence lady who didn’t understand why she needed to finger print and take pictures of the offense location if we caught the bad guys with the stolen property (because I said so, bitch. Just do your fucking job). Then out of spite that bitch decides to dust everything in the fucking apartment for prints, which is uncommon. I wanted to put my foot so far up her rear orifice, you have no idea. She made it to the location at 6 and by 8 she is still collecting evidence (I have been on at murder scene where it didn’t take that long for PES to collect evidence). I end up having to leave my female complaint at the scene, request another day’s element to pick her up and transport her to Crimes Against Person so she can make her written statement and I can still get to IAD. How about while enroute to IAD I drive right up on a three car accident on the freeway. I’ll be damned. Of course I can’t roll by the damn thing so I have to stop and wait until some other officers can be dispatched to the scene and work the wreck. Oh, did I tell you that my damn cell phone went dead while I was calling in the offense and arrest reports on the four individuals so I had no means to call anyone to let them know what my hold up was. I ended up getting about six hours of over-time out of the whole ordeal, but all that matters is that we caught some bad guys and put their asses in jail. The sad thing is that they are probably already out and back on the street. No shit. When I tell you our justice system sucks, I ain’t lying.
Just an account of my long ass day at work. Nothing exciting or political.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

It's Wrong. It's Wrong. It's Wrong.

Did I say it was wrong? So what am I talking about? I am talking about the fact that it is totally wrong for me to plan on voting for Barack Obama simply because he looks like me. What is even wronger….I mean, more wrong….er, worst. What is worst is the fact that I expect other people to support and vote for him because he looks like me too. Seriously, how wrong is that? It is totally inappropriate to support someone who is vying to be our next Commander and Chief, just because of the color of his or her skin (or primarily for that reason). This is not like picking someone to be on your team in a sporting event, people. Nor is it like supporting a movie, because its focus surrounds black folk (Go check out Next Sunday). It isn’t even like phoning in your vote for only the black contestants, on American Idol. It is far more important that that.

I admit it. When I watch game shows and contest, I always want the black person to win (for the most part). When I watch sporting events I always expect the black person to be better. When I look at dancing contest, such as So You Think You Can Dance, I always expect the black person to excel (which they never do for some reason). And when I see some horrible crime on then news I pray to myself, please don’t let it be a black person, please don’t let it be a black person.

Yeap, I am that person who goes to a movie, focused around white folks, and look for the black folks in said movie (and you know sometimes that shit is like playing Where’s Waldo), and will actually mentally count the amount of times I see an extra that looks like me. I don’t care what any of you bastard say; how in the world is it even remotely possible to film a big budget movie, in New York City mind you, and not show a single fucking black person walking down the street? That shit is ludicrous to me. There are black people in New York City, damn it! We the ones directing the tourist as to were they can get the best price on those bootleg jeans they were looking for.

And what about Disney? Those bastards have done a cartoon featuring every race known to man BUT black folks. And I swear to the high heavens that if one more person says, What about The Lion King? I am gonna shoot them with my own gun. Do I look like a fucking lion to you? I am talking about an animated character that looks like us, damn it! Broad nose, big lips, kinky hair. Hell, they’ve had every other race including a Native American, an Asian, a Persian, a Hawaiian and even a fucking mermaid...can I get a nigger up in there somewhere? (Sorry, it just slipped out.) And don’t think it doesn’t piss me off when I watch cartoons and don’t see a single black person represented, even as background characters! How hard is it to throw a little extra brown on a cartoon and maybe puff up their hair a little, damn it!

Whew…..Okay, I got a little off track there (I promise you I don’t know where that came from). Anyway, my whole point is that I was thinking about the upcoming election and the post that I did where I referred to how the white women of New Hampshire came out in droves to show their support for Hillary’s menstruating ass. It was actually the press that alluded to this; I just capitalized on the issue. So, it dawns on me….Although I would love some change in the White House, I don’t want this Presidential race to become a contest between full lips verses a dried out vagina. That ain’t right. Hilary isn’t basing her candidacy on the fact that she was once able to lactate; nor is Barack basing his on the fact that he can pick cotton with the best of them. So why am I basing my vote on the fact that Barack is a man of color?
Sure he is refined, charismatic and articulate, but so are a lot of black people (as quiet as its kept). The reality is that just because he is black, has a black wife and little black children doesn’t mean that if he become President that he is gonna look out for the best interest of my black ass, or yours. You don’t see Oprah inviting too many poor black folks to her “favorite things” show at Christmas time, do you? I don’t give a damn that she built a school for little African girls in Africa. My ass is over here in America, with a penis, and still dumb ass hell. What has she done for me?

So, if it is so wrong to throw my support behind a person based solely on the fact that he looks like me, why am I doing it?

BECAUSE I CAN, damn it! That’s right, I’m gonna stand behind Obama’s black ass up and to the time that his ass is shut down in the polls and then I will support him again, in another four years, when his ass has even more experience and has developed even more of a following! I don’t care! I am supporting him because, damn it, as black people we need to learn to be more supported of each other when it comes to things that matter. Stop focusing on the fact that he doesn’t have much experience. Hell, none of the bastards and bitches running know what it is gonna be like to actually sit in that power position until they actual have to sit behind that big ass desk in the oval office (I’m assuming it is big, since Monica had to hid under it). You don’t get experience as a fry cook by serving the burgers. You have to put on that hair net and throw some dead meat on the grill. I say let’s help Obama throw some meat on the grill. So, hell yeah I am gonna support the brother. Not primarily because he looks like me, but I’ll be damn it if that not a key factor. And I expect you and your whole damn family to do the same! Except for the convicted felonies (they know their asses can’t vote).

I am -One Man’s Opinion and I approve this message. Live with it, people! Peace.

Hillary vs Obama

I just thought this was interesting. Watch it if you have time.
Sorry, no commentary to go along with it.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

What A Difference A Day Makes

Okay, you all know that this blog is not for the glorification or the defamation of white folks. This blog is gear towards people who look like me. Nothing against white folks, mind you. I just think they get enough publicity, good or bad, without my assistance. My blog is like FUBU, except it is For Me and By Me. However, since I made my comment a couple of days back about Senator Clinton and her weepiness, I felt the need to give the heifer her props. You got to hand it to the woman; she pulled it out and took New Hampshire. And you know the bitch was shocked because everyone, including her ass, thought her campaign was headed down the toilet. I mean the victory was such a shock to the media, who had already started to count her out; they are dubbing it “Clinton’s Stunning New Hampshire Comeback”. My guess is that the American People haven’t been this surprised by an upset since Three 6 Mafia won the Academy Award for Best Song (and you know that shit was wrong).
Anyway, Hilary, congrats. I ain’t mad at you. It looks like the tears may have worked. The ice queen has melted and now everyone sees the good inside. (It’s like that scene from Santa Claus is Coming to Town, when the Winter Warlock melted because Kris Kringle gave him the Choo-Choo train and then……Oh, never mind.)
At any rate it was hardly a landslide victor, but a victory nonetheless. According to the polls Hillary took New Hampshire because women voters came out and voted in far greater numbers than the men. So, I’m guessing her tears and her premenstrual moment tugged at the hearts of the women of New Hampshire (they were all feeling her flow that morning. LOL).
Whatever the reason it seems that, at least for now, history is repeating itself. Remember, Bill Clinton lost in Iowa too, but he also took New Hampshire. Only time will tell as these rollercoaster of events continue to unfold. Right now it is still anyone’s race, the most important thing is to get out there and vote. Make your voice heard, if only for a day. As for Hillary, if it turns out that her womanly tears did manage to pulls off this victory, who know what she might result to next. The bitch might actually give birth. Now wouldn’t that be something? But where would that leave Obama? Sitting on the front porch, smoking a blunt?

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.
Okay, Shazaa, I'll unplug from the Matrix. Hush up!

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Tag? I Thought That Was a Body Spray

The Opinionate Diva tagged me, so I had to remove her from my blog list. That’s right. I don’t play! Ya heard!
The rules of the game are as follows:
The rules of the game are: A). Link to the person that tagged you and posts the rules on your blog...B). Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself...C). Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs...D). Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog. 'E). "NO TAG BACKS"
(I don’t want to be the party pooper, but I don’t wanna tag folks, except maybe MP1, that arrogant motor scooter. LOL)

Okay, here goes….
Fact number one is that I wrote a novel last year. It is not published because it’s hard to get your foot in the door without a literary agent.

Fact number two is that I am, or was, working on getting writing and illustrating a children’s book. I wrote the narrative for the book back in my twenties, but I just started illustrating it back in August or so of last year.

Fact number three is that I am a pretty good artist. I have been in and won several art contests. Right now I only do pictures of people that look like me.

Fact number four is that I collect comic books.

Fact number five is that I like to draw and write comics as well, both superhero and comic strips. I have developed many and many of both super hero and normal comic characters.

Fact number six is that sometimes I still suck my thumb. Not as much as I use to, but if I am feeling insecure or overly content my thumb, subconsciously goes into my mouth. It is so funny, because sometime I’ll just be driving along in my squad car and not even realize that I am sucking my thumb until I pull up next to another car. Thank goodness I work at night.

And last of all, fact number seven is that I am so content living along. It is who I am. Relationships don’t work for me. I’m just not one of those people who need people people. I’m not saying that I am an island, because that would be a lie. I surround myself with a handful of wonderful people who I trust and love and that is good enough for me. Now, if love rolls my way, I am willing to stop, drop and roll with it, but I am so content along that most folks don’t believe it to be true. That being said, I would love to have a child of my own, but I don’t think I have the patience to raise a child. I love my nephew, but that boy be wearing my ass out. LOL.

There's No Crying in Politics!

What the fuck? Did anyone see the video where Hilary got all choked up? Actually there are two; there is one where she gets her feeling all hurt when one of the newscasters informs her that the voting community doesn’t see her as being very likable. In that video she gets all choked up and tells the reporter that it hurt her feeling to hear that said about her. Seeing that Senator Hillary is seriously hurt by the comment, Obama tells Hillary that she is “likable enough”. I thought it was a very nice gesture, on Obama’s part, but of course some jerk said he was attempting to take a jab at her.
In this video, she gets all choked up about the state of the election and these bastard and bitches of the press deconstruct her tears and pretty much say that she was faking it for sympathy votes. Now why she would cry to help her candidacy is beyond me, seeing that one of the arguments against having a female as our Commander and Chief is the fact that “women are so damn emotional” (I’m not saying I agree with it, but we all know it has been said. Hell, one of my older sisters was saying it when we were in New York).
So, crying wouldn’t be advantageous to her plight in the least bit. If anything, I see it as being detrimental. Besides…..THERE IS NO CRYING IN POLITICS! There is lying, backbiting, deceit, affairs, scandals, whore-mongering, bribery and evening cursing, but there is NO crying in politics, Damn it. I think they even tell you this in the Constitution (or maybe it was the Bill of Rights).
At any rate, I will not belabor the subject too much, because the reality is that the woman has good reason to cry. Especially when you consider that Obama is about to hand her her ass in New Hampshire. At least that’s….

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Sunday, January 6, 2008

She Vents by Blogging

Look at this “nagger”.
Have you seen this young lady? I’m sure you’ve been to her blog, but if you have not, go check it out. She is my baby twin and She ventsbyblogging and by nagging me. But that’s okay, because if you look to your left, on my blog, you will see that I have updated the list of blogs that speak to me. For the longest there was just two on there. I am still missing a handful of folks, but I will add to the list later. I just wanted to give props to my nagging twin for making me bring the damn thing up to date for the New Year.
I would also like to thank all of you who commented on my Sunday, December 30, 2007 post: Catch a Nigger by the Toe.
It has prompted me to no longer use the word nigger in my post, unless it just truly calls for it. Of course, I refuse to change the title of my blog. It speaks to me.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Friday, January 4, 2008

The Audacity of One Man

Go head on, Senator Obama. I ain’t mad at you, bro. Go ahead and make a liar out of me. I don’t normal have my ear to the pulse of this political stuff, but everyone at the station was looking at the Iowa caucuses. To the surprise of everyone, except for Obama and those who believed in him. Senator Obama garnered 38 percent of the Iowa vote, making him the first African-American to ever win the Iowa caucuses (I’m not sure how many African-Americans have actually participated in the Iowa caucuses, but still…).
It is said that the Senator delivered the best and most memorable speech to date (thank you Oprah. LOL). I admit that I was a disbeliever, but I stand behind the brother to pull it through. If he manages to pull this mother out and get the nominee, he’s got my vote. I just hope nobody shoots his ass. I don’t care what he said in his speech. America still has a hell of a lot of crazy, close minded folks (that why we still have all this controversy with people using negative racial slurs) and those of the bastards that he has to worry about.
This victory was enough to knock at least two of the democratic presidential hopefuls out of the running, but Hilary is still hanging on. He still has the watch out for that heifer. After this lost I am sure her campaigning will take a turn towards the muddy roads of politics.
Like I said, go ahead, Obama; be that conduit for change. I hope he wins takes the Democratic ticket. Somebody has to be the first, damn it! If not me, why not him? I stand behind the brother all the way. Or at least until he fucks up and then I’m gonna say; “I told y’all his black ass couldn’t win.”
Hey, at least I’m honest. You know how we do.
I will say this much. If Obama takes this shit all the way, blacks folks are gonna sho’ nuff show they asses. I think it will be the happiest black folks have been since O.J. got away with murder. You heard?

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Oh, and if Obama does get the ticket can you tell your cousin n’nem to take their black ass down to the polls and vote. Oh, and please make sure they asses are registered first. You gotta keep that shit up to date ya know? I’m just saying...

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Evolution of Dance (Not for

I don’t know if you good people have heard the news but Stanley Kirk Burrell has joined forces with a new video-sharing website, by the name of This website is intended to rival the already popular, YouTube, and is geared towards budding dancers; giving them the opportunity to showcase their “happy feet” by uploading footage of their skills onto the net.

It seems that Mr. Burrell; along with his partners Geoffrey Arone and Anthony Young have been traveling throughout the United States in order to film footage for DanceJam’s release sometime in the middle of this month.
I went to the link: So far it looks pretty damn lame, but I guess it is still in development so I’ll attempt to reframe from judgment.
I wish Mr. Burrell all the best in this business venture. He’s gonna need it since I don’t think he knows how to manage his damn money. After all the dumb bastard did manage to go bankrupt, back in the 90’s, after making millions of fucking dollars. How the fuck do you go bankrupt when you are worth millions? I thought if you had millions of dollars you put that shit in the bank in live off the interest, or some shit like that. I guess it ain’t that easy, huh.
Oh well, let my ass make a million dollars. I’m gonna blow that shit on popcorn, gummy bears and condoms. Ya heard?
Oh, encase you are wondering just who the fuck Stanley Kirk Burrell is…He is the one and only M.C. Hammer. (It is amazing to me how these mother scooters can fall from grace and still maintain their prestige. Where the fuck is Coolio?!?)

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

*And on the random tip*
Did anybody else see I am Legion. Talk about you black man’s nightmare. The last nigger on earth and being chased by a bunch of crazy white folks, hell bent on eating your flesh. Ain’t that some shit?

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

And Baby Makes Three

Did you all hear about this? Eddie Murphy started the New Year off by marrying Tracey Edmonds, ex-wife of singer Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds, during a private ceremony on an island off Bora Bora in French Polynesia.
Mr. Murphy, who is now 46 years of age, divorced the mother of his five children, Nicole Mitchell Murphy, back in 2005. Mr. Murphy also had a bastard baby girl with Scary Girl Melanie Brown, aka Scary Spice.
I suspect that the slip of the sperm, between Scary Spice and he only occurred after those scandalous rumors about this secret, torrid love affair with New Edition’s Johnny Gill. After all, what better way to squash a rumor and prove your unbridle heterosexuality than by impregnating some willing chick? (Yeah, I said it!)
Anyway, rumors be damned, because according to People magazine, Johnny Gill was the best man at the wedding (I ain’t mad at you, Eddie. Keep yo Nigga close). I wonder if Mr. Gill will continue to live with the couple once they get back to the States…

So, question: How long will this marriage last before the new Mrs. Murphy finds herself in the same bitter boat as Terry McMillian, when she catches her new hubby getting his “groove back” on the back of the best man? Or visa-versa….That ain’t Donkey from Shrek he be riding. LOL.
Hey, don’t be mad at me. I didn’t start the rumor, but I’ll be damn if I ain’t gonna spread it like mustard on white bread.

-One Man’s Opinion. (A New Year, a new me, but the same ole drama.) Peace.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Granny Was a Racist

Howdy, everyone. This is my first post of the New Year (other than my New Year’s wish, of course).
If you are a television addict, like myself, then you know that The Beverly Hillbillies are coming to TV Land. Well, in actuality they have already come to TV Land. Starting with the marathon they ran today.
I must say how much I loved the Beverly Hillbillies growing up. I use to live for the reruns. Granny and Ellie May were my favorites. I have this thing for strong women and those two women were strong both physically and mentally. I especially loved Granny. She would wrestle grown men, fight gorillas and everything else. She made me feel like my Grandmother could do anything (and I was a grandmother’s boy).
I also must say that to this very day, I still find the Beverly Hillbillies to be quite amusing. The writing still cracks me up. The characters were well written and cute as hell, although it is unbelievable that in all the time they stayed in Beverly Hills they never managed to assimilate into society.
Anyway, the reason that I brought this up is because while I was looking at the Beverly Hillbillies, I realized something. Something that you don’t realize as a child, but becomes painstakingly clear when you mature and become more tainted.
GRANNY….That bitch was a racist! That’s right, we all know it. That damn Confederate flag. The thought of the South rising again. Oh, sure, the episode where that tried the lynch the black guy was all funny when I was a kid, but now I see that shit as the offensive piece of propaganda that it is. No wonder I named this site the name it is. I have been brainwashed by years of watching the Beverly Hillbillies.
Who remembers that episode where Mr. Drysdale calls that black guy in his bank a nigger? Anybody? These where horrible things for a young, impressionable young man of color (that color being brown), to bare witness to. I feel hoodwinked…bamboozled. Like Plymouth Rock just landed on my ass. And yet, I still have my DVR set to record every last episode. Not for the entertainment of it, of course, but to document all of the levels of racism.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Auld Lang Syne

auld lang syne means times gone by. When I was younger I didn't really care for this song, although I knew all the words to it, for some strange reason. I think the song is Scottish, but don't quote me on that.
It's a beautiful song. I had found one with Aretha singing it, but it was not Blobbable so I setteled on this one.
I worked for the New Year and it is sad how many started their New Year, robbing, assaulting and killing their fellow man. It makes me sad. I feel blessed to still be here with all my family in realitively good health. I also feel blessed to have been introduced to blogging and been able to come in contact with such wonderful and intelligent people, must of who look like me. Love, peace and happiness to you all. God Bless and stay happy in the New Year. Keep me in your prayers and I will keep you in mine.
-One Man's Opinion. Except it is more than an opinion. It is a hope and a prayer to you all. Peace.