Monday, March 31, 2008

You Can't Go Home Again and Some Niggers Never Leave

Okay, I have been seriously thinking about moving back home with my mom. This is really hard, because first of all, my mom can work a nerve. I love her to death, but like I said she can WORK A NERVE. You see, my mom had a stroke, which left the right side of her body paralyzed. This occurred over 5 years ago. To top that off, she if overweight, with diabetes and the sweet tooth of a swarm of Honeybees. (Do Honeybees have sweet tooth?) To date my little brother and sister, both 29 years of age, have been living at home taking care of her. It is pretty much a twenty four hour a day job, but only because my mom can be so damn demanding. She wants what she wants right then and there and does not want to wait. I have told her, over and over again; that she is working on other people’s time and needs to be patient. Now, she says that she is working on it, but God knows that that’s a lie. She ain’t working on that shyt, because she is constantly commenting the same freaking violations. Then there is the fact that you can be right in the room with her and she won’t want anything, but as soon as you step out of eyesight, she needs something. What the hell is up with that? And I mean, literally, she wants something as soon as you step away and start to do something else.

Okay, I am getting off track. The reason that I am thinking, even more seriously, about moving back home is because I don’t think that my little brother and sister are giving my mom the best care that they can, especially my little sister (who is gonna make be me beat her ass and end up losing my job). Sunday morning, around 5:45 am, I am in the middle of a foot patrol with my troops, when I get a phone call from my mom saying that she needs me to come and put her in the bed. She sounds like she is crying, which she does a lot; which is annoying. I know that sounds mean, but you have to understand my mom. She cries at the drop of a hat, for no reason. Of course, I am concerned, at first, because she is crying and saying that she needs to be put back in bed. Since she never calls me at work, I am freaked out. Then, once I realize that she is okay, she just can get my little sister to get wake up to push her up into the bed, I am pissed off because she is crying for no good reason.

Here is the set up. My mom is in my old bedroom, which is on the other side of the house (Yeah, they isolated my ass from the rest of the family). My sister is in my mom’s old bedroom, with her door closed, sleeping with my handsome, bad ass, little nephew (so I am sure she is wore out and probably can’t hear my mom calling her). So, I cut my foot patrol short, and head to my mom’s house. Luckily she doesn’t live too far off channel. I stop by Mickey-D’s to get her some breakfast, let myself inside the house, pick up her legs and pull them over onto the bed, and ask her if she needs anything else? She says no and commences to complain about my little sister. I don’t won’t to hear it. I am the only Sergeant that morning and a sexual assault has just come out, as I am getting the cover adjusted to her liking. This particular sexual assault says that it is still in progress, so it is one that I have to respond too, while I am on the other side of town. I lock the door and set off code three to the sexual assault. I still get there before my lazy ass troops. It turns out to be a deal (which means it was a shady, hoe ass, crack-head, bogus call).
Anyway, as I am driving home I contemplate a family meeting and bringing up the topic of moving home to take care of my mom, my damn self. However, there is one major stipulation. She has to kick out the three, grown ass people, living with her. That is my twin brother and sister (my little brother was in Houston at the time of the incident, just recently fired from his job of 4 months) and my 25 year old nephew (who is hardly ever there to begin with, also recently fired from a job). And you know neither one of their ass have saved any money for a rainy day (the typical black man’s mentality). So, I am willing to put my house up for rent and take care of my mom, but I refuse to raise grown ass people, so their asses need to go. PEACE!
I know you are wondering why I don’t just have her move in with me. Well, the answer is simple. The hallway leading to my bedrooms are too narrow for her to maneuver her wheel chair through; as I already explained, my mother is a woman of some girth (and she can’t drive that wheel chair for shyt). So, my only choice would be to move in with her, or start looking for another house (I have been looking for a bigger house. Trust me, that ain’t gonna happen for a minute).

I already have it figured out. Since I work nights, she should be fine at home alone. She can get up to go to her port-a-pot by her lonesome. Since I am a supervisor, I can sneak off to check on her if the need arises. I have already had the experience of having to wipe her bottom for her, and I was not as traumatized as I thought I would be, so I am okay with that. The money that I get for rent on my house I can use to hire a part-time nurse for the actual bathing, because I just am never gonna get that comfortable. And then I will just have to put her in check on that calling a brother ever thirty minutes crap, because it is hard enough to sleep during the day as it is. Also, I would have to put an end to every Tom, Dick and Harry, just coming and going out of the house as they damn well please. That shit is neither cool nor safe. They know damn well we live in the hood.

Problem is, she would never be willing to put these sorry ass (excuse this word) niggers out! Trust me, I have broached to subject before. The last time I told her this she not only had the three I just mentioned living with her, but also my other two grown ass nieces; and would have the nerve to call me and ask to borrow money to pay a bill. Hell naw! I refuse to pay bills when you have five grown ass people living with you, who all have cell phones and shit and no jobs. How the fuck does that shit happen? I got a look at one of my niece’s cell phone bills, which she has left laying about. That bitch was a little over two hundred dollars. Fuck that! That little heifer needs to put up some money on some utilities. I told my mom then, that if she was gonna have my two older sister’s kids living with her than they need to be the ones chipping in. That was not my responsibility and I meant that shit. And I stand by it now. If you want my help, kick their ass out!

I am more than willing and capable of taking care of my mother my damn self; but I’ll be damn if I take care of the rest of them. My little nephew is the only exception, but the rest of those bastard s and bitches gotta go. I ain’t lying.
-One Man's Opinion. Peace

Friday, March 28, 2008

When Life Hand's You Lemons

So this is the big thing right now. People becoming all indignant about lemon wedges placed on the edge of their water and tea glasses. The problem is so many people have seen this freaking video, shown above, and taken it to heart. I finally saw the video, because my so “friend” sent the crap to me and I wanted to see what everyone was talking about. Okay, so it is a gross video. Nobody wants to know about all of the unsanitary things that go on in restaurants anyway. Hell, trust me when I say that the lemon wedges are the least of our problems. Not to mention that this crap ain’t new. Hell, if the lemon wedges haven’t killed or made you seriously ill in all these many years than it’s a good chance that they want now. Yet we still have so many people, who have seen the video and will now take their lemon wedge and toss it on the table in disgust. Well, let’s see if I can put all this in perspective for you.

I’ve been reading a view blogs over the past year. And let’s face it, some of you get very graphic in talking about your personal and sex lives. I have learned that just in the blogging community that the majority of you participate in oral sex activities. Oral sex; are you kidding me? And you people are worried about squeezing and dropping a lemon wedge in your beverage. Do you even know how dirty a penis is? And it’s on the outside of the body gathering all kinds of dust mites and crap, brushing up against underwear. Dried piss that managed to stay on the head and no tell what all is. Can you even get a penis clean? And don’t get me started on the clitoris and all the various bacteria festering in the female’s reproduction organs. Where is, besides bread, can you get “yeast” to rise. If you are dining at the “Y”, trust me when I say that ain’t fish you’re eating. I don’t care what it smells like. And then there are the select few of you that actually lick the anus (the booty hole). You know who you are.

Now, if all of this has been a little too graphic for you, let me take it down a notch and let’s just talk about a simple kiss. Do you have any idea just how nasty human saliva is in its own right? Did you know that you are better off being bitten by a wild animal than a human being just because of all of all the gross stuff in our saliva? The bacteria in a human bite is ten times, if not more, deadlier in the way of bacteria and infection, than any other. That’s a reality. Look it up.
So, I say suck it up and eat the damn lemon! For at least some of you it’s not the worst thing you’ve had in your mouth. I’m just saying.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Hey, did I go too far with this post? Let me know, because I can delete this bitch.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Every Decade Or So...

Okay, so I was checking out political cartoonist David Horsey. I love political cartoons. If done right, they give you a comedic snapshot of the political world at large. A few years back I tried my hand at political cartooning, for a small, black oriented newspaper, here in Texas. I enjoyed it too, but I had to give it up. Those bastards were paying me on CP time; and you know that crap wasn’t cool or appreciated.

Anyway, Mr. Horsey is a Pulitzer winning cartoonist. I love his brand of humor and the reality in his work. He’s is the man. However, like most white cartoonist, he rarely depicts black people in his work, unless he is talking about poverty, sports, AIDS, or whatever else he believes relates primarily to black folks. But, I ain’t mad at him. Most white folks don’t know much about how black folks get down. I’m just surprised at how often he gets it right.

Take this cartoon for instance. Bill Cosby in 1988, Michael Jordan in 1998 and now Obama in 2008. I took a look at it and thought, “Wow, is this true?” Is it? Is it true that every ten years America finds a non-threatening Negro to latch a hold to? Someone just black enough to push into the lime light and say, “Hey, here is a Blackie we don’t have to be afraid of!” A role model of sorts.

I’m not sure if it is true, but when put into black and white, like that, it sure did give me pause to think about it. Black people are doing great things every day. That is a reality. But it isn’t that often that you hear about the great things that black folks do. Why is that? I’ll tell you why. Because the hand that controls the media, rules the world; and like it or not, white folks control the media.

But that’s okay. I don’t want be the wheat bread to America’s hoagie sandwich. I’d much rather be the partially burnt, discarded piece of toast, left on the plate at breakfast. Personally I think white folks are getting a little too comfortable around us anyway. I kind of liked it when I got into an elevator full of white folks and they all scrunched up into the corners, in order to get away for me. It made me feel like gansta.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Gov. Paterson Ain't No Punk!

David Paterson, replacement Governor for the city of New York, ain’t no punk. He’s a crazy motherf’er, but he ain’t no punk. First he admits to his post-marital affairs, now he is bringing all his shit to the light. You have heard this right? Bad boy Patterson now admits to having done, past tense, marijuana and cocaine, but it doesn’t stop there. The good governor goes on to tell how he has inhaled Freon, sprayed graffiti on subways, bet on dog fights, plotted an assassination and drove recklessly (You’d think this negro was on that game show ‘The Moment of Truth). Besides, like anybody cares about the fact that he doesn’t wear a seat belt and talks on his cell phone while he drives. I’m more concerned that his ass is driving in the first place. Ain’t he blind?!!! And how the hell you gonna assassinate anyone when yo ass can’t see?

Moving right along…all those things, except for the whore-mongering (I’m guessing), are long behind the good Governor, but he was letting it be known. I say good for him. Tell the truth and shame the devil. If you tell the truth now they can’t call you a liar later. I’m proud of him for coming forward with the truth when he was asked about his prior drug use, by a reporter. You can bet that if the reporter asked the question, it’s a good chance he already knew the answer. Anyway, what he gotta lie for anyway? He has the perfect cop out. “They told me that was a cigarette. Hell, I couldn’t see it.”

I joke, but I am hella proud of my boy, Paterson. He is a true trend setter. Did you know he became the first non-white legislative leader in New York’s history when he was elected the Democratic leader of the New York State Senate back in 2002? Then in 2004 he became the first visually impaired person to address a Democratic National Convention. Soon after, in 2006, he was elected New York’s first African-American lieutenant governor. Now, in 2008, he has been sworn in as New York’s first Black Governor.

Question: Are there any other black folk up in New York? I’m just saying.
One of the best quotes I think I have ever run across was this one given by Governor Paterson, to the New York Amsterdam News; when he said: "You don't want to be the first; you want to be the first of many." Ain’t that the truth? Although I’d settle for being the first, but not in New York; ‘cause that bastard is taking everything.

Oh, and can I just go on record as saying that I have never done an illegal drug. Never tried, experimented or had the will to. For some reason people think that everyone has partook in the experimentation of drug use, even if it was just the use of marijuana. Not true. I have never had the urge. Not that I am a saint or anything, mind you. It is just that growing up there was certain things that I knew held true for myself. When I was a in about the first grade I use to have a very compulsive nature. If I did something, like tap on the wall with one hand, I had to do it the same amount of time with the other (this was before I had ever even heard the term excessive compulsive). However, without ever been told I knew there was something wrong about this behavior. Not unlike playing with yourself, while you suck your thumb and watch Family Affair, while rubbing the silky ends of the bedspread with your feet whiles you grandma is frying chicken in the kitchen. Don’t nobody ever has to tell you it’s wrong. It’s something you just know. So, anyway, I decided at the very young age of six that I had an additive personality and that I could never do anything that could possibly become habit forming. (True story).

Anyway, how did this post become about me? DAVID PATERSON AIN’T NO PUNK!

The End

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Look at that Face

Okay, I was downloading my pictures from Easter and I couldn't resist. This is one I took of my nephew, while my family were getting ready to go to church. I would have went but I got off really late, because of the incident I blogged about, that day; so I went over to the house in full uniform.

I know you have seen all the pictures of those celebrity babies, but be honest. Yall know damn good and well that you have never seen any child as handsome as this young man. I take him to the mall and people with children of their own whisper at how cute he is. This is him bringing the sexy. LOL. I told him and his mother that because of the serious, model look he I captured with this shot. When I said it, he asked to see the picture, like he knew what I was talking about. It was funny though, because I take thousands of picture of his bad ass and that was the only time he asked to see one of them.

Ain't he cute? You can admit it. No, he ain't mixed, he just got his mom, grandfather and great grandmother's grade of hair (Please, no comments about him having good hair, because I only believe in grades of hair. Hair is not good or bad). And of course his uncle's stunningly good looks.

I tell yall how cute he is, but I rarely say it to him. He gets enough of it from the rest of the family and I don't want him to be conceded. I like to tell him how smart he is. When he surprises me with the knowledge he has of something or ask me to read to him I make a habit of letting him know how much his uncle loves how smart he is. I don't want him to be just another pretty boy. The good looks will get him in the door, but the brains will make him own the company. Oh, and for the record, he isn't really bad; at least not when he's with me. Never throws a tantrum, puts things back when asked too. Maybe because I also constantly tell him how I'm gonna start beating him with a stick. Humm, that ain't right, huh. Oh well, it seems to work. If I could I would spend every waking our with him. I already have a saving account set up for him, as a college fund. Of course, if he grows up to be a bad ass, hard headed little thug, God forbid...I'll be using that little gem to supplement my own retirement fund. You heard?

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Communication is Key

(Caution, this is one long ass post and possibly a little boring)

For some reason my mind is stuck on relationships and how fucked up they can be. As you may image, something has happened in my life that has thrown my mind into a loop and want let go. It seems that every where I look I see failed relationships or dysfunctional relationships in denial. I have always been aware of these relationships-I’m a cop for petesakes-but for some reason they are weighing on the fore front of my mind. This post is dedicated to the importance of communication in relationships and also gives me a chance to tell you about one of two incidents that happened on my Easter morning. (Let see if I can spin my yarn as well has Opinionated Diva did her’s).

Okay, picture this. Myself and Sergeant, let’s call her Lupe, were en route to have our Dr. Pepper and BLT at the IHop at the border of our division. As I am headed that way I take a quick look see to find out what calls are holding. There is a signal 12 and a 40-01 holding, both at the same location. I check the address and see that it is not far from the direction I am headed, so I decide to run by the call location first to see what is going on there. Since we have been getting eaten up with armed and home invasion robberies and I’ve had a hard on to catch a bad guy, I figured I might drive up and catch one or more before they can get away. (A 12 is an Alarm and a 40-01 is just can be just about anything. The 40 stands for Other and the 01 means that it is in progress).

Okay, let’s cut to the chase. I arrive there at the same time as Dallas Fire and Rescue, just in time to see a somewhat elderly woman standing in the front of her home just drenched in blood. Beside her stand s a young man, who turns out to be her neighbor. He tells me that the lady came banging on their door and said that her husband was knocked out. I get the lady, who is hysterical and incoherent, to take me to where her husband is. The first thing I notice, as we enter the house, is that there is no signs of forced entry and that the place in immaculately clean; It doesn’t even smell of old people (Whatever, don’t play like you don’t know that smell).

Turn on the light and there is the body of the woman’s husband, in blue pajama’s, laying on the floor by the side of the bed; his head in a puddle of blood. At first I think he has just fell out of bed and knocked his head against the end table, but no such look. As I peer over, trying not to disturb the body, I can see what is obviously a gun shot wound in the back of his head. I send the woman into the next room, with the other officers, that have arrived by this time, and whisper to DFR that I think the victim has been shot. Before I leave the room I am checking the walls to see if there are any bullet holes in them; jJust encase this was one of those random bullets through wall deals. No such luck. So, my next thought is that the wife has off’ed her hubby.

We sit wifey down in the next room, to calm her down, and start asking her very polite but pointed question; in order to find out what went on there @ three oclcok in the morning. She is still hysterical and making no sense at all. I am still thinking that the woman has off’ed her husband, but now I am also thinking that he was probably terminally ill and that it was a mercy killing. Problem is, where is the gun? And how did all that blood get on the back of her pajamas?

DFR confirms that the man has been shot and is DRT (Dead Right There) and now are in need of his name. They ask me the victim’s name, as if I had dinner with them the other night. I send them to get it from the wife, but she is still too distraught to answer any question. So, I see a pair of jeans on the floor, so I check the pockets for a wallet and possible driver’s license. Well, as I am looking into the pockets, I noticed that on the belt is a leather holster, but no gun. The plot thickens; I knew this old heifer had killed her old man. Who did she think she was kidding with this distraught wife act?

I go out to see if I can get Sgt. Lupe to see if she can get the woman to tell her were the gun is (by now we have moved the woman into the back of a squad car—no, she is not under arrest). It is Sgt. Lupe who figures out that the old woman has a big lump in the back of her head, hidden under her hair net, which she is bleeding from (which explains all of the blood on the back of her night gown). DFR , who has not left yet, takes her to the local community hospital. They do a cat scan and find bullet fragments in the lump at the nap of her cranium. It turns out that the woman has been shot, and didn’t even know it. That was why she was so incoherent.

So, this is the final break down, as we see it. It appears that the man, who was suffering from some type of illness, decides to do one of those murder/suicide things which are all the rage (normally with white folks, I didn’t realize that our people got down like this too). Oh well, so he shoots his wife in the back of the head, while she sleeps, and then turns the gun on himself. Did I mention that the gun was found under his body and had been fired twice? Well, as it turns out, the bullet didn’t kill her (talk about hard headed) and she wakes up, finds her husband laying in a puddle of blood on the side of the bed and goes into hysterically panic mood. Apparently the old man hadn’t clued wifey in on the fact that he was going to take both of their lives, so neither would have to suffer without the other. Ain’t that some shyt? That’s love for you. “Honey, I know you love me so much that you would never want to live without me, so I’m gonna take both of our lives to save you from the pain.” (And they weren’t even that old. He was just 54)
The moral of this story is, “Communication is Key.” If he had just talked this over with his wife he would have found out that she wasn’t down with this plan. Or, “If you are gonna do the murder/suicide thing, make sure you put two in your sponse before you turn the gun on yourself.”

I’ve decided that if I do ever find someone to grow old with and we are ever in this predicament we are gonna make a pact not to do the murder suicide thing. If we decide to end it we will agree that it we be mutual suicide. You do you and I’ll do me, because Hell, I might change my mine. Especially if yours looked like it hurt. I ain’t playing.
One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Lone Wolf

Did you know that the gray wolf mates for life? No? Well, that is because you’re a dumb ass.

(Burst out laughing!) No, no. I’m just kidding. That isn’t even how I meant to start this post, but I just couldn’t resist.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about infidelity a lot these last couple of weeks. And when I say infidelity, I am talking about it as it relates to married couples who have pledged their lives to one another. It seems that just about every married person that I know does not know how to remain faithful to the person that they have professed to love until death.

I don’t see how all these hypocrites can act so indignant because of Elliott Spitzer’s fall from grace, when it seems like the whole world has a problem with it. Infidelity, I mean. Well, actually I can, since we live in a hypocritical society—that and the fact that the bastard paid a good four thousand dollars for a sniff of putnanny, but that’s beside the point.

Infidelity has always bothered me, even as a kid. Something about the betrayal never sat right with me. I hated shows that revolve around characters who are unfaithful to one another. Maybe that’s why Soap Operas never appealed to me. Even comedies that would sometime focus on infidelity would get to me. I remember the episode of Lavern and Shirley that focused on Lavern and Carmine’s kiss. That was the ultimate betrayal in my mind. I was so bothered by this that it took me a minute before I could watch the two characters–Lavern and Carmine-without an air of disgust (I was a sensitive soul, what can I say). I have since out grown being bothers by infidelity on television, but the very act still sets my teeth on edge.

I never had to come face to face with infidelity until I was twenty years old and working at Kip’s Big Boy. My manager, a waitress and myself were at the El Fenix restaurant, across from ours, and they had treated me to a couple of margarita’s. I was young and had never drunk before so I got a little tipsy. It was at this point that those two scumbags decided to start the beginning of an affair that would taint my yound, innocent soul. And both of their asses were married too!

Now I work in a profession that is known for infidelity (police are some of the biggest whores out there), and yet not a day goes by that someone doesn’t ask me why I am not married. What’s the point? When I mate I want it to be forever, not just so I can say I had the experience or just to be with someone. I’m good alone. Thank you.

Question. Why is it that women seem to always lay infidelity at the foot of the men? And then men buy into that shit. Women cheat too. They make conscious decisions to open their legs, mouths, or spread their ass cheeks for the male species. And a lot of them initiate the shit. And yet it always seems to fall on the man for being responsible for the act. If you watch shows such as Cheaters or any other reality show these days, you will see that women are just as horny as men, and seem to cheat just as often, but for some reason we are all in denial about this. Married women are just a subject to falling from grace, because of the yearning in their loins, as a men. I don't care what you say. Let’s face it. We all want women to be these virtuous little things that only want sex because it is a service that they provide to their spouses, but we all know better. And please do tell me that it is because we, as Homosapiens are just sexual beings. That is bullshit. You have a mate! Explore that sexual energy with them. I'm just saying...

Anyway, that is what was on my mind and I needed to get it off my chest. I tried to keep it short.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Just for shyts and grins, click on this little gem. I thought it was pretty cool. Click on the sight below.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

The Audacity of Racism

Sorry that I have not posted a lot lately. I am trying to concentrate on doing the story boards and illustrations on my little kid’s book, before the motivation is gone. I am known to procrastinate out the ass, if you didn’t know.

That being said, I did want to do a quick post on Obama and his speech addressing racism and the Rev. Wright. I think it is sad that Obama had to throw his old ass “white” grandmother under the bus, sort of speak, and say how racist she is. Hell, I give people of a certain age a bypass on racism. But he let it be known that the only negro that goes up in his grandmother’s house is him, and the bitch still hides her purse and jewelry when she knows he’s coming (I’m assuming). I’m glad he decided to stand by his pastor and mentor, the Rev. Wright. I think it says a lot about the man and his character. So many politicians would have cut ties to the man, just to get where they wanted. I, personally, try to judge a person on their own merits; not by the people whom they choose to associate with, although I am fully aware that birds of a feather tend to folk together. But hell, I’m a cop, but I don’t like hanging around the bastards. No offense to my brother and sisters in blue.

I’m not saying that the Rev. Wright hasn’t said some stuff from the pulpit that I think are wrong. But I think they are wrong simple because they have nothing to do with God and everything to do with his personal beliefs and that is not the correct forum to spout off about your personal believes.

Here are a few of the comments that the good reverend is credited as saying:
“The government lied about inventing the HIV virus as a means of genocide against people of color. The government lied.” Now as black folks we all have heard this shit in one form or another. Hell, half of you probably believe it, but Rev. Wright didn’t come up with the damn theory. He is just speaking on some shit that he heard, liked and decided to believe. Once again, should he be speaking on it from the pulpit? Hell naw! He should have saved that shit for the barber shop or the domino table.

“We bombed Hiroshima. We bombed Naqasaki. And we nuked far more than the thousands in New York and the Pentagon and we never batted an eye.” Yeah, I think he stole this concept from watching the View, when Rosie O’Donnell was the co-host and mediator.
“We have supported state terrorism against the Palestinians and black South Africans, and now we are indignant because of stuff we have done overseas is now brought back into our own back yard. America’s Chickens are coming home to roost.” Well, that shit is probably true. Don’t get mad.

“The government gives them the drugs, builds bigger prisons, passes three strike laws and wants them to sing God Bless America. No! No! No! God damn America…for killing innocent people. God damn America for threatening citizens as less than humans. God damn America as long as she tries to act like she is God and supreme.” Hmmm, kind of hard for me to be mad at this one either. Hell, the reality is that you could probably hear a variation of this in any number of churches, regardless of the denomination. At least I think so, and remember…it’s my opinion, damn it!

I don’t even know why these next two statement are even an issue…we all know this shit, more than likely, is true; “Barack knows what is means living in a country and a culture that is controlled by rich, white people. Hillary would never know that.” “Hillary ain’t never been called a nigger. Hillary has never had a people defined as a non-person.” They know that shit true. Hillary, on more than one occasion, has probably been called a bitch, but never a nigger. Hell, to be honest with you, before he decided to get into politics, Obama was probably not called a nigger all that often.

I find it very interesting that these bastards are grasping at all types of straws; in order to get at Senator Obama. Can the man really be so squeaky clean that the best they can come up with, as far as attacking him, is his middle name, church affiliation and pastor? Is it such a bad thing that “The Audacity of Hope” was taken from a line in one of Rev. Wright’s sermons? Hell, maybe it was a positive sermon; and even if it wasn’t you would think that it would be a good thing that some positive was taken from it. And the man has no control over the name his parents gave him.

And the long run, I find myself drawn closer and closer to Obama. I hate when people attack other people without just cause. I think it was part of what makes me a good police officer. Yeap, America’s racism is beginning to rear its ugly head. Or is it racism. You know, it’s kind of hard to look at it with an open mind, now that I think of it. The reality is that every politician especially does running for such a high office, are bombarded with attacks regarding one thing or another. However, I can’t get pass the fact that Obama’s all seem to be racially motivated.
Okay, I think I am gonna put that race card back into the deck and reserve comment on the issue for a later date. Maybe this has nothing to do with race and everything to do with the dirty little game of politics. Of course, if it had nothing to do with his race…then why did Obama have to give a speech on topic?

Oh, well…back to the drawing board. Literally.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Friday, March 14, 2008

What Up!

This is what's up. I know I have not posted in a while, but yall know damn well I am lazy. Once I take off my Uniform all I wanna do is lay up in bed, suck my thumb, and look at television. I don't wanna get up and "l,m,n,o". I don't wanna go to the story. I just wanna relax. It was easy when my wireless Internet was working, because I had the laptop laying right there, within reach. Now I have to haul my lazy ass out of bed and walk the ten or so feet next door, hook up the little connection and shyt, before I can blog. I hate that SHYT. I don't care. So, anyway, I talked to my boy Lou last week and he told me that I could by a little wireless thingy that would take the place of the one I messed up in my laptop. (How come none of you jokers told me about this little miracle of technology? Haters! LOL). Well, on Wednesday I drove down to Ovila, Texas and me and Lou-Lou went down to Best Buy to by the little do-hickey, and I just knew I was gonna be good to go. I was gonna post and catch up on ready all of you good people's blogs and all that good stuff. Well, how about that shit didn't work. My fault. Part of the deal with me and Lou was that I was to bring my laptop with me when I went over to his house, so he could help me set up the wireless thing. But my mom called, distracted me, and I didn't realize until I was half way to his place that I didn't have the damn thing with me. And yall know gas prices are too damn high for a brother to be turning around and shit. Fuck that. I figured, how hard could it be. Something just aren't rocket science, right? (I got home and couldn't get the shit to work. Ain't that some bull…)

So, I'm like fuck it. Which is pretty sad, actually. There is so much going on out there that I would like to speak on and I know you good people have spoken on. But damn it, if me and my laptop are gonna fight, I'll be damn if I ain't gonna win. I found something else to do. You will all be very proud to know that I really found the flow on the unpublished Children's book I wrote and am now trying to illustrate. That is what I did on my days off this week, once I realized that I couldn't get the wireless thingy to work. I focused all of my frustrations into working on the story board for my book. I had started the illustrations way back in August of '07 and had completed about five or six good pages, not including the two possible covers. Then, as always, I was over critical of myself and did not think that the illustrations where up to par with the kind of things would keep a child interested. They just were to static. I needed more animation and humor going on with my lead character. So, procrastinigger that I am, I put it and all things creative (blog not included) on the back-burner. I did not paint. I did not draw. I did not read (blogs not included). I just shut it down. Hell, I had not done anything artsy-fartsy since then. Not that I didn't have the urge or the ideas. It not even that I didn't have the want. I just didn't have the will (if that makes any sense).

But now, all that shit has changed. I am very happy with the progress my book is making. The story boards, which I never do, are on point. The movement of the characters are fluid and whimsical (at least the little stick-like figures in the story boards are). If I can't get those bad boys to pop when I transfer them into a bigger and grander forum, I will be one happy camper. And then, if I can managed to get the damn thing published, I will be on cloud twenty (well above cloud nine). But on thing at a time.

On a whole 'nother topic. Hey, is it okay to be disappointed in someone who you claim to love unconditionally? Is it hypocritical to say that you love somebody unconditionally and yet feel like they have let you down emotionally? Because I have a friend that I am very disappointed in, who I love with all my heart. I feel guilty about being disappointed in this person; first because I feel as if I am passing judgment on something that is really none of my business and second because I feel like it makes me a hypocrite to be disappointed in someone and still say I love them unconditionally. I don't know I am conflicted. What do you good people think?

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

(You know what I have noticed. I cuss way too much on this blog. You are reading blog created by a man who has never utter a profaned word in front of anyone in his family. Except last year when I told them I wanted my head stone to read, "Bye-Bye Bitches", but that didn't count.)

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Call the Dog Catcher

Hilary Clinton is a Bitch!

That’s right, I said it. And I don’t mean in the traditional since of the word. No, I don’t think she is a female dog (although I do think, with those Santa Claus like cheekbones of her, makes her look like a Pekinese) And I also don’t mean it in the chauvinist terms of a vocal woman who is willing to stand up for herself and not take shit off anyone. Nope, I mean it in the most general of term. She is just a plain and simple, bitch: An unpleasant woman who is thoroughly disliked.
Okay, now you all know that this blog was created for the love and hate of people that look like me. Meaning, I love my people but sometimes I hate what they say and do. However, ever now and again I feel the need to speak on the other folks.

I gotta say I was very pissed off when Hilary took Texas (and I caucused too). I still don’t get how one can win the most delegates (Obama) and yet not get the popular vote. Can someone please explain that shit to me? Shazza? Don? Raw Buffalo? .Somebody?

Anyway, I am not hating on Hilary for any of that. Trust me. My problem with her is that she is not gracious. I listened to both candidates as they gave their respective speeches. One of the things that Obama did that Hillary did not was congratulate her on the states that she did win (this was prior to the result on Texas). Hillary, however, did not congratulate Obama for the one state he had won; although she did manage to congratulate McCain on his victory. She is playing such bad tactics, which is fine. I am not naive on how politics work, but damn. I hate her little comments about how America needs more than nice speeches, but a President that can deliver. Well, bitch, until you get your ass in office…speeches are all that your ass is making. So shut the hell up! And please, don’t tell me that shit about how she ran the Presidency when Bill was in office. I’m so sick of hearing that shit. Hell, if that were true, why can’t she handle his ass now? And Bill….Don’t get me started on him. Did he or did he not show his true color during all of this? (WHITE, people! The man is WHITE!)

I wish I could say this as funny and eloquently as Dick Gregory, who is my new hero by the way, but the plain and simple truth is Hillary is a bitch. She has lost my respect and my vote (and before I seriously would have voted for either or). Now, I will either not cast a vote for President or I will give my vote to McCain. The only way I can see Hillary getting my vote if she should win this candidacy, besides a gun to the head, would is if she put Barack on her ticket. And don’t tell me that shit can’t happen either. It happens all the time (or at least some of the time). There’s a reason why they say Politics make strange bed fellows.
Anyway, I said all of that to say this. HILLARY IS A BITCH! Look it up. You can find the definition of the word at where it reads: Bitch, see Senator Hillary Clinton.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Dick Gregory apologizes to the first Black President

I want ya'll to seriously watch this, when you get the chance. Is brother speaks the truth like I could never. In this Youtube moment he actually speaks everything I think and am not capable of putting in to words.

Preach boy! You made me stand up and cheer in my own house.

Tell the truth and shame the devil boy! They didn't know, but now they do, DAMN IT!

Saturday, March 1, 2008

This Is a Test

So, I finally figured it out. The way to have a well rounded, over-achieving, self motivated child; destined for success. Now, I hate to give Senator Obama so much credit for everything, but I got to admit that this idea stemmed from attending his rally on Wednesday. It was during the course of his speech, when he said how he was the child of a teen-age mother; whose father left him when he was only two years old. That's when it dawned on me. The secret to rearing a child who would become famous in their own right.

That’s right. You guessed it. If you want your child to have success you got to find yourself a white woman, impregnate her with your seed and then leave her right before or soon after the little bastard is born. No. Marriage is not necessary to accomplish this task. Don’t get me wrong, if you feel the need to marry the chick by all means feel free…however, remember that the key is to leave. This experiment will not work if you stick around. You cannot be a part of the child’s life in any way, shape or form. You cannot write. You cannot pay child support. You can’t be a part of his or her life, at all! I can’t stress this enough.
Now I know this might seem a bit harsh, especially if you are one of those that feel the need to be responsible and take apart in the upraising of your child, but I’m telling you that you have to look at the big picture and push those ethics aside. We are talking about the future of your child here. I’ve done the research. This will work (I’m pretty sure).

Case in point; Barack Obama, Halle Berry, Mariah Carrie, the Rock, Collin Powell (I’m assuming), Lisa Bonet (at least at one point), Naomi Campbell (although the bitch is crazy), Alisha Keyes, Dorothy Dandridge, Vin Diesel (once upon a time), Derek Jeter, Tia and Tamara Mowry (from Sister, Sister fame), Prince (yeah, Prince. Who knew?). Chili from TLC. I could name more, but I was getting bored (plus I think I lost yall with Chili).

Anyway, I’m thinking about trying this out. I just gotta find the right white chick (although I am thinking that a basic one will do). Alls I gots to do is knock her up and then wait patiently to reap the benefits of my rewards. No, not the child, stupid; but the fame and fortune they will reap. I’m guessing that their need to succeed comes from a life time of neglect and longing. Oh well, they will understand once they have made a name for themselves and I tactfully enter back into the picture. Of course, I will let them know that I did not abandon them. Hell now that would be wrong. I will let them know that I had to leave; for the greater good. Explain how if I had stuck around they would not be where they are today: The first Black Female President of the United States, or the first male black….Hum, it’s getting harder and harder to be the first male black anything these days. I wonder if I could nigger-rig it so that the child would be female. Hummmm.

Anyway, I’m thinking this will work. Sadly, it will take several years before I actually get any type of feedback on the hypothesis, but I think it might be worth the effort.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Yeah, I know I need to seek help, but my counselor better damn well be biracial, damn it! AND THEIR MOTHER BEST BE WHITE!