Look At This Nigger

Lies, Lies and more Lies.

2009-12-22T12:18:00.005-06:00

Merry Christmas, my wonderful blog family. I know it has been a life time since I have lasted posted so I'm not sure if any of you will even see this, but I think it's time.

"Life for me ain't been no crystal stairs..." Who said that? I could google it, but it not big of a deal, but trust me when I say, "Life for me, with the Police Department, ain't been no crystal stairs." Here's the story, and I'll try to keep it brief:

Back in March, Sgt. Lupe and myself go downtown to eat. The place she chose is close so we head towards my ole standby, IHOP. En route a car runs a red light and Sgt. Lupe, who I am following, decides to stop it. This is poignant, because Sgt. Lupe does not normally perform traffic stops. I cover her and it just so happens this is at an hour where all the clubs have let out and people are finding that their cars have been broken into. They flag us down, I inform them that we will be with them as soon as we finish with the traffic stop. They catch an attitude. Whatever.

While Sgt. Lupe is writing the citation, I am standing to the side of her car, keeping an eye out on the drive and all of the activity going on as well. While doing so a group of people come over to me and say that a guy is getting beat up and choked out in the middle of the street by three other guys. I, of course, go to investigate (because I see a crowd but no fight). As I am crossing the street the people that informed me of the incident point out the three guys that allegedly just beat someone down are getting into a car and trying to leave. I see the car and I see three people getting into it. I make it across the street before the front seat passenger can get completely into the car and shout at them. The Driver sees me, throws the vehicle into reverse and jump back, the passenger side door just barely catching my left knee.

The car speeds out of the parking lot, and my dumb ass chases after it, on foot, while yelling into the radio. I chase the car for about three block (traffic was congested) and the damn guy wrecks into a cab and an SUV. At this point I'm thinking that the suspect are going to bail, which is the normal protocol for bad guys, but nope, just as I am gain ground I see their car drive off and I am back in a foot chase with a car (which is like bringing a knife to a gun fight). However, as luck would have it, a squad car comes barrelling down the street just as the bad guys are going up the ramp to the freeway. I was trying to get the baddies, but once they made the freeway I was out of it.

Felony traffic stop is performed on the freeway. I am tired and asked for someone to give me a lift as I Homer Simpson my way over to where the accident occurred. Sgt. Lupe picks me up so I tell her to take me on the freeway instead. She does. I find the driver. Yell at him for trying to run me down. He is put in a squad car where is is tazed by a k-9 officer. Another sergeant, who is still down town finds the guy they beat up. Three baddies go to jail. Media comes out, I tell them what happen. It doesn't make the paper. We get everything situated. Sgt. Lupe takes me to my car and we go eat.

Fast forward to April. At work, beginning of the shift. I and later Sgt Lupe, get pulled into to be talked to by our Lieutenant (a man with the back bone of a garden snake). He informs me that I was caught on tape, putting my flashlight up to the driver of the guy who was arrested chin and I was not only being investigated by being re-assigned until the investigation is over. What the hell. The allegation would change several times. It went from flash light under the guys chin, to choking the guy with my flash light to me choking the guy with my flash light and also kneeing him.

Okay, I know how some of you good people feel about police and with good reason. However, this is not me. In my eleven years on the force I have never choked or used my flashlight as an impact weapon. Hell, I don't even use my asp. And I have never kneed anyone either, even though it is an acceptable use of force. So I tell my Lieutenant that this is a lie. I was there and I want to see the tape, because I know what I did and did not do out in the field. He says that he has already sent it up to IAD. Whatever.

We, Sgt. Lupe and I, eventually get to see the tape and like I said. None of the crap they accuse me of is on the tape. However this does not stop it from making the visual and paper news. Sgt. Lupe and the K-9 officer that tazed the kid, get their pictures shown on both, I just get my name said and a black out line (what kind of crap is that). It turns out that an officer that Sgt. Lupe complained on for not pulling his weight the day of the arrest got his feeling hurt and concocted this story of police brutality. No, the kid who was suppose to have been beaten up never filed a complaint.

It bears mentioning that the officer who started all this crap to moving first made two incident reports. The first just tells about the kid who was tazed being combative and having to be tazed by the K-9 officer. After he is spoken to about not pulling his weight, he decided to right another incident report (three days later) that stated that the kid had been tazed and that Sgt. Lupe had told the kid (he was twenty three years old) to "take it like a man". (What she actually said was "Take it. Take it.") I didn't hear her say it but it was on the tape. No mention of me choking or doing anything else to the kid. This is an important fact, because it is this fat ass officer who is the only one who will later swear that he saw me choke the guy with my flash light. Oh, and get this, once the investigation was over and I get to read all the statements, the bastard was asked why he didn't put the fact that I'd choked the kid with my flashlight into this second report. His answer, "because i did not remember it until I saw it on tape".

Just so you know, the reality of what was on the tape is that you see me grab the kid by the collar, flashlight in my right hand, and tell him to, "Shut the hell up!" How they managed to blow that up into something else is beyond me. Months later I was exonerated. Thank you God. and I will be going back to patrol in January. I'm not looking forward to going back to patrol, but because of some shadiness in Communication I opted to leave there.

I love my job, but the back biting and underhandedness of the people in power is unbelievable.

Oh, and before I go, it might be worth mentioning that Officer Fat ass, who was oh so offended by the misuse of force exhibited by Sgt. Lupe and myself, to the point of reporting it to a sergeant the he knew disliked Sgt. Lupe and myself (that is why it took him three days to make the complaint. He had to wait for said sergeant to come back to work). Anyway, a month later Officer fat ass was caught on tape stepping his fat ass on to the back of a prisoner. He was put on restricted duty while that was being investigated.

I love poetic justice.

Anyway, life is good but police life has been hell. I hope everyone is doing good and keeping out of trouble. I'm a facebook kind of guy now so come be my friend there.

Peace, love and hair grease.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace

(This was wrote on the fly so excuse any spelling or grammatical mistakes).

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEOS

2009-08-31T17:06:00.003-05:00

Okay, it is the last day of August and though I know this is officially the time in August where the Virgos take over, I still needed to take some time to say Happy Birthday to my fellow Leos. After all, let's face it, the majority of August belongs to us.

I hope you all had a wonderful and blessed birthday. Mines was awesome. I actually got a Wii for my birthday. Can you believe that. A Wii. It was from my good friend. You know, the one who gave me a two hundred dollar gift certification, to an art supply store, for Christmas last year. I love the Wii, but the gift in itself drives me crazy. I can't afford to give such gifts. WTF. LOL. I know that makes me seem ungrateful, but I promise you that I am not.

Anyway, another year older and none the wiser. I have, however, decided on a whole new life style change. I have started working out. Slowly at first, just twenty or so minutes a day, until it becomes routine. I have also made an effort to start eating better. No fast food in two weeks! Do you know how hard that is, working deep nights, when pratically everything edible and open is a fast food place. Plus, they give it too you for FREE. Still, I have been good. Except when people bring sweets. I just can't turn those bad boys down. But I am trying. I have giving it thirty days, to see it their is any change in my weight or my body; because sometime I swear I look into the mirror and see a black Homer Simpson (and that ain't cute).

I am also taking an illustration class at one of the Community Colleges. Tomorrow will be day three of the class. So, I took off tonight to clean my house, because I am sick of living like a Oscar Madison. There is no excuse for it. It has been five hours of cleaning and I have not made a dent. Can you believe that crap? I only took a break to write this blog, if anyone is even still keep up with my triffling ass. LOL.

Oh, and guess what else I got for my birthday. I was so happy. I know most people don't like them, but I love the idea of having a bunch. That's right. A grey hair. I found a grey hair last week. I could not believe it. Finally. Sadly, it was in my pubic area, which, once again, ain't cute. I swear that little bastard must have popped up over night, because it was not their the day before. So, there it sits, all alone, like the one white guy at the million man march. What up with that.

Anyway, love you all. Thanks for the support. Still awaiting word on my situation. I'v already been to the Grand Jury to testify against the guy. They True Billed him, which is a good thing, but the kid is only twenty-two years old. I don't want his whole life ruined just because of a stupid choice he made. We all make those, right?

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Did I See What I Saw?

2009-07-29T12:08:00.004-05:00

Have you ever accidentally caught someone doing something that they you wish you would not have seen? Something that traumatized you so that you know it will be a minute before you can ever look at that person again the same way. You know, like walking in on your parents having sex. I remember when I was little and walked in on my mom and step-father having sex. Thank God I was to naive to actually know what was going on until my step-father threw the shit in my face (I've told this story). Other than that, I don't think I have ever really walked in on anyone doing anything unusual or that was meant to be done behind close door. Oh, wait a minute. When I was in the first grade and we lived in a one bath room house, i walked in on my oldest sister trying to pee standing up. LOL. True story.

Now, I do remember when I was in high school and having someone catching me masturbating. How embarrassing is that? It was my own fault, because who the hell masturbates in the back of a newspaper truck, while delivering papers? In my own defense, I was young and had just discovered the joys of masturbation. Too much information, I know. LOL. Anyway, thank goodness soon after the guy stopped going to our church. LOL. This is a horrible story....moving right along.

Anyway, the other day at work I saw my co-worker doing something that I wish I hadn't. The one thing I know for sure she was doing and the other I am not one hundred on. Which is why I posted the above picture, to show that looks can be deceiving).

Okay, so on my Friday, it was just me and Sgt. Raven working. Sgt. Raven is this cocky little white girl, who just promoted to sergeant about six months ago. I like Sgt. Raven, although she is a bit of a snake, so I keep her at arms link. When she was promoted they sent her directly to Communications (dispatch), which is where Sgt. Lupe and myself were sent when our deal made the papers (Still not ready to share the story until it is all over).

In the dispatch room they have set up two work stations for the supervisors. Each work station consist of six terminals. Three to monitors calls, officers and stuff. Once to listen to the radio, if we have too and one to get on-line, check mail and stuff. Now, the last terminal I spoke about is set up in such away that they are on the right of the main terminals. Which means, if I am setting at the first work station my back partially too Sgt. Raven, if I am playing on the computer. Where as, she is pointed more towards me, if she is playing on her terminal. Got it? Sort of?

Okay, so its a slow night and I have spent the majority of the night watching old Degrassi Junior High shows, on YouTube (keep your comments to yourself). About six hours into our shift I turn my head say something to Sgt. Raven and what do I see. The woman has her right hand down her pants! DOWN HER PANTS! (Past the wrist). Do you realize how hard it is to get your hand down the front of you pants, while wearing a gun belt and an under belt? (The under belt is use to aid in holding up the gun belt.) What the Hell? I am addressing her, as I turn my head, so she tries to snatch (no pun intended) her hand out, before I can catch her. Too, late.

So, gentleman that I am, I play like I didn't just bare witness to this shit and say whatever it was I had to say to her in the first place. Then I turn my head back towards my show. As I am turning my attention back to Degrassi I see, out of the corner of my eye, the chick take a swiff of her fingers. SAY WHAT?

Okay, so I am not for sure that she was smelling her fingers but let me just say this. She played the same hand that she had in her pants, under her nose, and didn't even have the decency to play like she had an itch or a booger or something.

WOW! Who does that? Seriously, can someone please explain that mess to me. I couldn't have been an itch, because she could have scratched without going inside the waistband and if it was that serious, she could have just went to the ladies room. I pray her ass was not playing with herself, because that's just wrong. We are out in the open, people. We are not talking about individual offices her.

So, anyway, I am in shock. I have been traumatized. Am I over reacting. Is this normal female behavior that I have just never noticed before?

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Rest In Peace

2009-07-17T15:24:00.003-05:00

I know it's been a while and I have been hopefully laxed in my blogging, but I promise you that I am still here. I also promise that as soon as the ordeal that lead me to be being taken off the street is complete, I will share the story with you. Until then.......DID YA'LL KNOW THAT MICHAEL JACKSON DIED? No, seriously, the brother passed a way. Yeah, I know, I'm still in shock my damn self.

So, anyway, I was thinking about it and I decided that any artist, worth his salt, would do some type of drawing of Michael Jackson. Now, besides cartoon illustrations, I have not completed anything artsy in over two years. I know, I know....Shame on me. But, anyway, I decided that it was important that I, as an artist, did at least one take on The Moon Walker himself. Above is my version of him.

It is done on a medium call Scratch board. What scratch board is, as I understand it, is a black board that you use a tool to sketch off the the black to find the silhouette. I came across this medium, completely by accident, a few years back while I was in Atlanta. I was hooked. And for a quick while there I was doing cool little drawing using it, but then I got bored with it. Like I normally do.

Anyway, this is my take on the very familiar image of the Michael Jackson; "Moonwalk". And yes, damn it, I know that this is not the Moonwalk, but this is the toe move he does at the end of it and the image from the Moonwalk thing he did. So, there!

Anyway, just thought I'd share.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

What Was I Thinking?

2009-06-11T08:48:00.004-05:00

WE'RE BACK!

What the hell was I thinking; taking a four year old little boy to Disney world-for a week, mind you-all on my own? Obviously I wasn't. Well, we left the first Tuesday of this month and got back last Tuesday and I used all of yesterday to recoup from the whole damn experience. It was so nice to take naps again. My old ass needs my naps, damn it.

For does of you not in the know, I had this great idea to take my little nephew, Manny, to Disney world for a week to celebrate his fourth birthday. It seems like a good idea at the time. Me and my nephew, alone at the happiest place on earth, bonding and growing closer...What a rip. What does bastards at Disney don't show you is how taxing it is on the body to fight to crowds and having to constantly say no, and don't and shut the fuck up. Okay, maybe not shut the fuck up, but I thought it. My little nephew can TALK. LOL.

Day one: we land, get our room and head off to Magic Kingdom. By the time we got back my ass was ready to come home.

Day two: we meet up with a family we met on the plane. This made life a lot easier, because Manny had two kids to interact with and I had a host of five adults to share the wealth of his attention with. So great. I was still ready to come home by the end of the day. It was at this point that I truly realized that the trip was a bad idea. Not the taking Manny to Disneyland part, but the taking him alone part. Yeah, worst idea ever.

Day three: I take him to the water park, because all he really wants to do is play in the pool. Come to find out that the water park is not one of the theme parks that was included in our deal. No big deal. I love my nephew and this will be fun for him. Pay the big bucks to get into the damn thing and the boy acts like he is afraid to get wet. So, we stay there for an hour at best, until I get frustrated with him and ask him if he wants to just leave. He says yes, off we go to catch the bus back to the resort. We get to the resort and as we are passing the pool to get to our room his ass ask if we can go swimming. Uh, no. We take a nap and then go to see UP (very good movie, by the way) and eat at Planet Hollywood.

As the days pass by, it gets better and better, but I am still counting down the days till we can fly back to Dallas and I can drop him back off with his mommy. LOL. The boy wore me out, but in a good way. I love my nephew to death. He is so smart and so much like his Granny, I had no idea. He really is a little angel. Not bad at all, just a handful; which is par for the course with any four year old, be they male or female.

I had to scold him a few times, but that comes with the package. But I never had to yell or raise my hand to him (although I had to ask him if he need a spanking a couple of times). The boy made me laugh way to much and to be more than three times his age I was proud I was able to keep up with him. Manny's uncle is a home body and having to get up and go everyday is not part of his makeup.

So, what did I learn from the whole experience? Well, I learned just how much I love my nephew and he loves me. I learned that I might not be doing this every year on his birthdays and if I do, to take another adult to hear bare the brunt of the it. I learned just how smart my nephew is and that his intellect is not being pushed to its fullness. I learned that my nephew is a crowd pleaser (everyone just fell in love with him). I learned just how good a job I think my sister is doing with my little nephew. He is very well behaved. I learned a lot about his little personality. He might pretend to be shy, but his ass ain't. He is quick to let you know if you have done something that he does not approve of (stranger in particular). I learned that Disney World would be the bomb, if it wasn't for all the damn people and their kids. LOL

Oh, and the Pop Century is a very cool resort to stay at. We had a ball, even though I had to take a day to recover from the experience.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Oh, and just for the record. To see the smile on my nephew's face, when he meet Mickey Mouse, made the whole experience worth while, and I mean that.

Lassie Go Home

2009-05-25T07:15:00.005-05:00

Okay, so I'm thinking that my auncle is planning on stayind down here. There was already a vibe that this was playing in her mind within the first week of her being here, but kow I know it for sure. She called me yesterday calling herself scolding me for not returning her phone call last week. We I don't return phone calls, unless it is an emergency, especially if you are someone I plan on seeing within the next week or two. That is just how I roll.

At any rate she called me, on my cell (and I have told my mom to stop giving people my damn phone number). She is all exctied and telling me about this house they her and my little sister found that is close by my mom and how it is the perfect house and asking if I think they will approve her for the house and crap. She is going so fast that it's like she started at the end of the conversation, so when she ask my opinion I don't have the slightest idea of what she is talking about. So, she starts over, all exasperated and shit. Whatever, I need your ass to start at the beging because I don't have the slightest idea of what you are talking about.

In a nut shell she wants me to go look at the house with her on Wednesday, which I have already explained to her is mother movie day. Plus she is coming into some money, so she says, on the first and she is wondering if whoever is renting the house will let her move in with the five hundred dollars down payment.....What the fuck? How the hell am I suppose to know this?

In all honesty I think she was trying to work up the nerve to ask to borrow the five hundrd dollars for the down payment on the house. C'mon yall, I ain't new. I know when someone is working their way up to asking for something. So apparently she didn't get the memo. Nephew One Man don't lead money, bitch. (I'm sorry....I meant auntie.) Hell, I want even lend my momma money. You better ask somebody. Don't get me wrong, if my mom ask for money, I will give it to her (within reason), but if she ask to borrow it the answer is no, because I know she want pay it back and I know I want ask for it back so I just cut threw the chrade and give the damn money to her. Other than that, NO. And I especially don't lend out money to people with no reconizable source of income. Bitch, you don't got no job. (plus, next week is Uncle and Manny week at Disney World!)

Beside, I don't want her to move down her. She is freaking me out. I love her to death, but she is strange, plus I don't like her around my nephew or any of my family for that matter. Now I know what went through a lot of your minds. He doesn't want him around his nephew because he is a transexual. WRONG. I don't want him....her around my nephew because I know that she was molested as a child and the reality is that most children of molestation, molest. When you add that to the fact that most cases of molestation are by people that are known to the victim....yeah, I'm not feeling comfortable.

But the list goes on. She already had a fight (arguement) with my mom, according to my little sister. That's not surprising though. Hell, it was expected. My mom fights we every damn body. I even told her as much. I said, "mom, evertime I come over here you are in a fight with somebody". It pretty funny, because she's the nicest person you ever want to meet, but I think I'm the only person she doesn't get into it with. I think that's because she knows I'll stay my ass at home. I have no problem cutting my damn self off. One man is an island unto himself. LOL.

Plus, I don't want her to stay because she is a hustler to the core. She use to be a prostitute and I think she still have those garden tool tendencies. We know that she has committed murder, and after hearing the story from the horse's mouth. I don't believe that shit, and I've been seeeing way too many cases of family members killing family members lately. I don't really know this person.

And then there's the fact that she just looks plain freaky. Seriously, I don't know were to look at her. Anywhere I look I feel like I'm staring, and I am. Her breast, which are hormome injected real, hang down to her belly button. And it's not like I'm not use to seeing this, I got some over weight, big breasted women in my family. Women who, if you go over to visit them and catch them right out of bed, their breast will be at thier feet, but they will put on a bra to tame those puppies. Not her, she just let's those damn things hang like mellons on a vine. It ain't cute, especially since they are totally out of proprotion with her small frame. So then she try not to look at her breast and look her in the eyes. However this is impossible, because I find myself looking at what I know are cheek implants. Those damn things are so high and they look as hard as a rock, those along with her chin. It's like talking to a fucked up maniquin (plus her grill is a mess). Hell, and if you look away you feel like your being disrespectful. What the hell is a brother suppose to do.

Now, don't get me wrong. I ain't trying to hate but the reality is that even if Micheal Jackson was my brother. I'd love him to death, but it'd freak me out to be around him too much. There's a reason why absence makes the heart grow fonder, Damn it! So, in other words.......

BITCH, GO HOME!

And by the way, Happy Memorial Day.

-One Man's Opinon. Peace.

I Have a Question

2009-05-20T05:48:00.004-05:00

I have a question and it is about masturbation. No, it is not about who or why people masturbate. I know the answer to both. Everybody masturbates; men, women, animals...everybody. Here is my question: Do you think it is wrong to masturbate when you are in a legitimate, long term relationship?

My answer to the question is yes. Now, admittedly I have not been in a relationship in forever, so I masturbated like nobody's business. Hell, nowadays I masturbate simply for the exercise. However, when I was in a relationship I never did. I never felt the need to.

One of the reason why I didn't masturbate is because I felt like it was a form of cheating. Yeah, I know that that's crazy talk but it is still how I felt at the time. Other reasons why I didn't feel the need to masturbate is because when I was in a relationship I was never as horny as I was when I was outside of a relationship, thus the need for sex was not as crucial. Lastly, I always felt like, why should I have to masturbate when I have someone who is suppose to be there to help me for fill those sexual needs.

Seriously, I honestly think that if you are masturbating in a relationship then it is a sign of trouble in that relationship. I mean, think about it. Why should you have to pleasure yourself if you are in a relationship. Sure, I can understand it if that love one is not right there and handy, but if they are in the house with you then they should be there to for fill your sexual needs.

Well, that's my take on the subject. What's yours?

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Questions for a Funeral

2009-05-16T13:42:00.005-05:00

I am no longer on the streets good people, for those of you who do not know. I now work in communications (dispatcher). This week one of our ladies son commit suicide. It was very tragic, as you can imagine. Of course I believe that to be the case when anyone takes there life. Suicide is an permanent answer to a temporary problem.

At any rate today, when I got off work, I took a little nap, got up, dressed and went to the funeral service (Catholic). Even thought it rained, it was a nice little gathering of people. Not as many of her co-works as I would have imagined, but what do I know?

Anyway, I have some question for a funeral. Ready?

Question one: If you are at a funeral isn't it common sense to turn off your telephone? I don't want to hear your blame it on the alcohol, ring tone during services.

Question two: I don't have a problem with people who bring their kids to funeral service however....Doesn't it make sense to take a crying baby out of the room during the ceremony? Why would you keep a screaming child inside as a distraction?

Question three: Who the hell drinks coffee at a funeral? That's right....Coffee! As I was standing in the cathedral there was a lady next to me that just keep drink her seven up coffee, from it's container. What the hell? I seriously wanted to knock the thing out of her hand. Who does that?

Question four: Why did the priest end up playing the song, "I get around", during the service. At first I thought it was another cell phone going off, but no, it was coming from the pulpit. So then I thought it was a musical tribute, when it continued to play for a good two minutes. Then the priest apologizes and says he was looking for a song. Seriously. Can you believe that?

Question five: Why is it that the when it was all said and done they could not get the front doors open and the line backed up as they were trying to get the casket out? It was both said and comical at the same time.

Question six: Why was the wife crying? I was told that the reason he killed his self was because he had lost his job and his wife was cheating on him and asking for a divorce. So why was she even there and better yet...Why was she outside yell for him not to leave her? You were leaving him, damn it!

Anyway, that's about the size of it.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

2009-05-13T23:00:00.002-05:00

Today, as you most likely know, is my family day. If you don't know, Wednesdays are the days I go to spend with my family. Today we had the new addition of my auncle. My auncle is so funny. First of all, she had one of those names that lead itself to be easily changed from mail to female, such as; Michael to Michelle or Danny to Daniel. However, he went from Danny to a name like Chantellia or something like that. Actually, her new name, which she has gone by for probably over thirty years, is very simple, I was just trying to explain how come I never understood why she didn't just go from the masculine to the feminine version of her name. I'm sure there is a very logical reason behind it. As a matter of fact, I'm sure I can figure it out on my own, if it was that serious....which it isn't.

Anyway, while I was over to my mom's home I got to sort of connect with the auncle I had only meet twice in my life and had not seen in over twenty years or so. We talked about everything, from my first memory of her and the verbal argument that she, my aunt and mom had that very first day. A fight that was on the very street that we lived on, in South Dallas, with her dressed as a woman and yelling how, "yes" she had a "dick". She told me how she didn't remember that and apologized to me. I had to reassure her that it wasn't that big of a deal. My family was known for having those kind of outside fights with each other and neighbors....in some cases where the police had to be called out. It was just how we rolled. She was just one more part of the crazy puzzle, and just happened to be wearing a dress.

Then we sat down with my little sister and little sister asked her why she'd gone to jail. This was the first time I heard the true story of why she killed the drag queen, who ended up not being a prostitute like I had always been lead to believe. It was a very interesting and exciting story. As I was listening to it all I could think of is how this woman needed to write a book. Little sister thought her stay should be documented for a reality show. Trust me, her stay is not going to be that more exciting then the CRAZY which is our family to begin with.

Anyway, I learned slot about my auncle today. She is a nice person and at the end of the day she came to me and thanked me for excepting her back into my life. I just looked at her and asked her why she was thanking me. We were family. I was glad she had finally came to visit. I love my family. Crazy as their asses are. Hell, I'm crazy my own self.

Anyway, we are going to have one of our wonderful game nights on this coming Saturday, because I just happen to have taken that day off. They were actually going to do it the Saturday after, but I requested that it be moved up. One of the things I hate, probably the only thing I hate, about working deep nights, is that when we have family gathering I always have to leave so I can get some sleep and crap.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner....and longer

2009-05-12T23:06:00.005-05:00

Guess who's in town. You guessed it. Well, you probably didn't. It is my uncle/aunt. I did a post about him one day, I just don't remember when. Anyway, my transsexual uncle/aunt is in town. He apparently came into town today and nobody told me. I only found out when I had to go over to the house to get my key, because I locked myself out. As you know, I lock myself out of the house more times then I care to admit, but this time it was not my fault. My friend rushed me out, so we could go out and eat.

Anyway, when I got over to the house I find out that my aunt/uncle is in town, so I sit and wait for her to come back, because she has went to the store with my little sister. I had just given up waiting and was driving out of the driveway, when they pull into the driveway.

I park the car and go to speak to my Aunt, who I have not spoken to in over twenty years. The reality is that if I had not seen my Aunt in so long, if I had seen her in any other venue, I would not have recognized her.

I was surprised to find out how long she was going to be staying (for over a month). I am very concerned about her staying for so long, to be honest. Like I said in the one post that I did about her, she did do hard time for murder, when she killed a prostitute who attacked her for standing on her corner. And you know I am very protective of my family and I know that more crimes of passion happen to family members from family members. I think I told you one of my uncles was actually murdered by another uncle (different blood).

Anyway, I am not going to sweat it. I am just too damn over protective.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

2009-05-12T22:53:00.004-05:00

KFC Gots to be Mad at Oprah

2009-05-06T20:19:00.002-05:00

I'm thinking that KFC is hating Oprah right now. Okay, maybe not KFC, since they had to be on board with the whole free meal thing, but I bet you their employee's are pissed as hell.

The reason why I say this is because I stopped by the KFC by my house to get some of the new baked, or however they cook it, chicken. No, I did not have my coupon for the free meal Our girl Ieshia did email me the coupon this morning, so I was thinking; "cool, I'll have some free chicken for dinner tonight." Sadly, I could not get the damn coupon to print...expensive ass, piece of crap, printer. Still, my mind was set on the chicken so I went anyway and just pay for my meal.

Let me just tell you the place was packed. And when I say packed, I mean PACKED! The line to the drive thru went out into the street and the parking lot was so packed that the people were parking in the lot of neighboring businesses. I was like, Damn. It ain't that serious.

And it really ain't that serious, people. I mean I, like most black folks, love a good piece of chicken...and when you add the word FREE to the front of that....stand back. However, I am not going to stand and wait for a hour to get some damn chicken. I don't care how free it is. lol

Besides, I've had the new chicken. It's good, but it ain't all that. Plus, I think they make it from midget chickens. My pieces were so small. Still, it is an alright piece of chicken and KFC is doing one hell of a job of marketing it. As I was in the middle of typing this up I was also watching the Gary Unmarried, a sitcom on CBS and I'll be damn if they weren't pitching the new chicken.

Still, I said it once and I'll say it again. The employees of KFC must be hating Oprah's ass right now. I know I would be if I worked there.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Oh, and just for the record. I appreciate all of you who were worried about me. I have seriously been going through it at work. I think I'm going to have to change the name of this blog and everything, but that is not what I have been going through at work. They have been putting my ass through the ringer. Still, just a quick update:

My niece got married and the ceremony was nice. My other niece moved out on her own so now my sister is going through empty nest syndrome. She funny. The day after the first niece got married and moved out she had already turned her room into a bedroom for Manny.

On the under one roof front. Still working on it. It is hard to find a house to accommodate my mom's handicap (and yes, we knew going end that we would have to make changes). Now we are considering just adding own to my mom's house and my moving back in there. They are checking out contractors now.

Love you all.

Love Happens

2009-03-11T13:40:00.004-05:00

I don’t want my niece to get married! There, I said it!

This coming April, one of my four nieces are getting married and I don’t want it to happen. I have no reason why, except that I don’t want her to do it.

I love my niece and I am glad that she is doing it the right way. After all, she has known the guy since 2001 and they have been dating since high school; so it’s not like she is rushing into it. And I am very proud that this niece, along with the other three has broken the family/female cycle of getting pregnant in their teens. Still, I don’t want her to get married.

I’ve always known I didn’t want her to marry the dude, but today I looked at the web-site they have created to commiserate their love and it hit me even harder that I don’t want my niece to get married. I think it’s just me. I’m not big on marriage, I just don’t trust it. Plus, I think my niece can do better. How horrible is that? The guy is alright; a little childish, maybe, but so am I. Other than that he’s a stable young man. He has a job, is educated, and everything else and has already purchased them a house to live in once they tie the knot. He is everything a woman should want in a man. So, why don’t I like him?

Something about this man just does not sit well with me. I have no idea what it is. He has been apart of the family for over five years, coming to family gathering and stuff. Hell, I see him more than some of my blood nephews. Still, I don’t want the wedding to happen. I prefer that they wait, but they have waited far longer than most.

Anyway, it’s none of my business. I love my niece and I want her to be happy and she is happy with this boy, so what ever. My job is to take the damn pictures and mind my own business. Who am I to stand in the way, when love happens?

The UNCLE, that's who! LOL

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

House Hunting is a Bitch

2009-03-05T21:13:00.002-06:00

Okay, I love all of you and I am taking into consideration what everyone is saying. I appreciate the words of support and concern, because they are both of equal importance; plus they show that you all care about my well being. Please continue with the honest, unfiltered advise, because sparing my feeling will not help me one bit. Trust me, Mark and everyone, that I am considering every little thing and I think we might have to have another family meeting, because of all of these free thinking spirits. LOL

I will say that my mom is more into this then I had anticipated. This old woman is going on line and finding houses and stuff. She is really becoming computer literate. I am shocked. But she got to meet our realtor yesterday, so she can start bugging him with the houses that she finds on her own.

Anyway, on Wednesday, which is family day, me, my mom, Bonnie and Manny went house hunting with the realtor. We looked at four houses with the realtor. Two were out of the question, because of my mom’s situation. One, my mom didn’t like the neighborhood, because she said it didn’t seem neighborly. It was a nice house, and we thought that she’d like it if she opened her mind and came inside, but she didn’t so, whatever. Then there was the house that reminded me of the Amityville horror. My sister is too young to remember that movie, so she didn’t get the reference when I made it.

The reason it reminded me of the Amityville horror, was because before we even went in I noticed these big ass horse flies in the window. It was just a couple, but those bastards were big. Then we went inside and there were hundreds of them banging against every window of the house. And besides the big, monsters banging against the windows, there was the puddle of dead ones lying at the floor of the windows. If I had brought my camera, I would have taken a picture of this for you. I kid you not, there were like thousands of flies dead around each window as well. It was freaking me out.

It was a beautiful house, and it did not stink or anything. I just didn’t understand the flies. And they were silent flies too. I’ve had one fly in my house that size, and it buzzing is so loud it will cause me to go on a fly killing hunt. But you could not hear these flies at all. Isn’t that strange? Wouldn’t you expect to hear the constant buzzing of flies? My sister thought the flies were so big, because there most have been something inside of the house dead, Manny just thought it was nasty. We never took my mom inside of the houses that we didn’t think merited it.
Anyway, after we finished looking at the house with the realtor, my wonderful family wanted to continue to look for available houses in the area. And guess what….we found the perfect house (see above).

Bonnie and I feel in love with the house, from the outside. It was close to a walking park and it was on the school bus route. I know the bus route thing, because we saw it go by. And it was a nice an quiet neighborhood. Trust me, we were out during the time that kids were getting out of school and neighborhoods are normally at their most active. It had a nice wooden deck with a nicely constructed play house in back, complete with an air-conditioning unit. This was perfect for my little brother’s only request. A place were he could have his ‘boys’ over so they can smoke there cigarettes (marijuana) and drink without having to disrespect our mom.

Anyway, Bonnie decides to call the realtor and see if he will come back out, so we can get inside. He agrees to come out so we go and get something to eat. While we are getting food, Bonnie also calls one of my older sisters and she come out to take a look see at the house as well

Okay, here are the stats on the house. It has been on the market for over a year now,. I t has 5 Bed, 3 Bath 2,857 Sq Ft on 0.22 Acres, Five bedroom home on a creek view lot backs to wooded trails. Nice kitchen with an island and built-in appliances. Hard wood floors in the entry and formal dining area. The kitchen overlooks a large family room with white stone gas fireplace. Patio has a wood deck and a storage building for extra storage with AC. Property is SOLD-AS-IS.

The house was perfect. Here’s the kicker. The bitch noticeable evidence of mold, in the garage. Damn it! Is this the reason why this gorgeous house has been on the market for so long? Is this the reason why a house valued at 190,000 has been marked down to 129,000? What is the deal with this house?

Our realtor told us he would do some research on it, but I’ve decided it must be the mold. You can’t insure a house with mold, plus you never know how the mold has spread through the house. Which sucks, because after 6 hours of house hunting with my family, minus my little brother, it was like the house was a God sent, but alas, it was not meant to be.

This is gonna be fun.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Under One Roof

2009-02-24T18:31:00.003-06:00

Cocoa Rican charged me up, saying that I had not posted in a while. Well, the reason behind it is because of the fact that I have been so preoccupied and I feel guilty about posting when I am not getting the chance to look at my fellow blogger’s blogs.

Anyway, here goes:
As you know, a while back I posted about looking into me, my mom, nephew and younger siblings all attempting to move under one roof. Well, last week I started the steps towards that goal. On last Wednesday, we had a little family meeting to make sure that everyone was on board. The surprise from the meeting was that my little brother was the main pain in the ass. My sister was all good. Now I have gotten my pre-approval and we have started looking at five bed room houses.

So, here is the plan. First we find a house we all agree on. My sister went to look at one today, that she fell in love with. It’s a little further out than I wanted to commute, because right now I am only 15 minutes away from my job, but if it’s a good house…I’m in. Anyway, tomorrow, we are going to see Madea goes to jail and from there to look at the house.

Once we find the house, if all things go according to plan, I will put my house up for rent and we will put my mom’s house up for Section 8. Before we put my mom’s house up for Section 8, I am considering paying it off. The new house will be in my name, since I have near perfect credit. The little money my mom gets from social security, we will now put into a saving account for emergencies. The money we get from my mom’s house we use towards the mortgage on the new house and the money I get from my house, if God is willing, will go to pay off my house, with a little extra.

While we are waiting for all of this to happen, I will pick up the bulk of the builds, since it will be my house, and I will ask from a small amount of rent from my little brother and sister; plus we will share the cost of utilities.

Of course, my little brother is stupid. He wants us to purchase a new, flat screen, high def, plasma television (which we can, if he buys that bad boy). I already have four color televisions in my house, and one of them is one of those big bastards people were buying before the flat screens became popular. He also wants up to buy all new furniture, which is stupid. My leather living rum set is only two years old and very nice. (yeah, my little brother is stupid. Love him to death, but the reason for this move is to save money and own property….not to go into debt). His ass is all talk anyway.

The ultimate goal is to be there for the care and welfare of both my mom and my nephew. But if everything works out according to plan, we will end up with three homes, two of which will eventually be paid for, in full. That way, if anyone meets the love or their life, or whatever, they have a home of their own to move into. Plus, when Manny and I return from Disneyworld, we can surprise him with a puppy of his very own (because if that boy claims another dog, that belongs to someone else, as his own…..).

By the way, did I tell you that I booked the trip to Disneyworld? Yep, we are go to go. We will be staying for seven day at the Disney Pop Century Resort, get seven theme park ticket a piece, round trip tickets, and insurance on the packet, incase of unemployment or major illnesses. All for under $1,500.00. I thought that was pretty good. Of course, by the time we return I will be either bald or gray haired, and probably regretting any big purchases I made before we left.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Chronicles of a Bad God-Father

2009-02-03T22:47:00.003-06:00

Okay, this pasted weekend my little God-son turned a year old. Isn't he cute?

I took off work and took Manny to the party. When we first got there I saw this little boy, in the living room, he appeared to be about one, and he was the only little boy standing in the center of all the adults; so I just assumed he was my little God-son, so I took a few pictures. Imaging my surprise when Kale, my God-son, is brought out of the kitchen by his mother. What a sucky God-father I am. LOL

On the positive side, I did take off from work to go to the party. And, once I found out who the birthday boy was, I took a bunch of pictures. LOL. I'm really gonna try to do better. Once Kale is a couple of years older, I want him to join me and Manny on our Annual trips to Disney World (or where every I choose to take him on his birthday).

On that note, I am trying to plan a trip to Disney World with my little Nephew. There is just so much to consider, I am overwhelmed. Any helpful hints?

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Beyoncé - Single Ladies SPOOF (Barack Obama)

2009-01-27T18:03:00.001-06:00

Ethnic Mr. and Mrs. Smith

2009-01-18T19:33:00.003-06:00

Here is just a small example of the stupidity that officers have to deal with on a daily basis, out in the field. Okay, so yesterday was a very busy night for us, people were off the chain. I don’t know what was up. Anyway, so I get called out, as a supervisor, to this house where an aggravated assault has occurred. The wife has allegedly shot the husband in the leg. Here is the story:

Husband and wife are in their bedroom, watching television and eating on some hot wings. Husband and wife get into a verbal argument (I don’t know what about). Whatever the argument was about it leads to the wife grabbing her gun, which she keeps under her side of the mattress. Well, not to be undone, hubby goes for his gun, which he keeps under his side of the mattress. That’s right, people. His and her guns. Can you believe that crazy shit. But that ain’t all, they also keep an extra gun and a shot gun in the bedroom; just encase. WOW!

Anyway, sometime during the argument, and this is how the story was told to me, the husband tells the wife that she shot him in the leg. No, joke. Wife doesn’t believe husband so husband leaves the house and drives his ass to the hospital. Well, of course, if you come to the hospital with a gun wound the personnel is obligated to call the police out to find out what the hell happened to you. Yeap, that is how we end up at the happy couples household, because neither husband or wife called the police to report this shit.

Oh, but it gets better. Wife swears up and down that she didn’t even realize that she had fired the gun. What? Are you kidding me? How the hell do you not realize that you shot the gun (and we are talking about a .357 here, people). How do you not hear that shit go off. Better yet, how do you not feel the recoil of the damn thing.

Anyway, Physical evidence is called out to process the scene. Wifey is taken down for questioning and is later transported down to our jail on charges of Family Violence, Agg. Assault. But don’t worry, folk, there is no doubt in my mine that the hubby will not press charges and the two will be back together, playing wild, wild, west again.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Funny or sad?

2009-01-12T18:45:00.003-06:00

Okay, I have a little story to spin. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it is funny or just plain sad.
Flashback:
The Saturday after Christmas I took photos for a couple who were renewing their wedding vows. I took over one thousand pictures. This was a free service that I was providing, but they still gave me five hundred dollars for my time. In return, I felt I’d make them up a picture boo, which I put great effort into creating.
Fast-forward:
So, yesterday I paid a visit to my older sister’s church, to deliver the photo book. Two, the be exact. I was late, of course, because I can never remember when their church service starts. Thank goodness my sister ’em go to one of those churches that it doesn’t really matter how late you are, because it’s a sure bet that service will still be going on when you get there. By the time I arrived at the church the minister, my sister’s father in-law, was in the middle of his sermon. So, I just stayed outside and in the foyer and watched on the cheap television sets they had set up other there. Whatever.

Anyway, once church let out, people start slowly filing out. Since I use to attend this church, before they moved to their current location, a lot of the people are stopping to speak, hug and ask me if I knew the slain officer. Among these people that came out was this one young man, who asked me how I was doing and went on to tell me how he has been out at the clubs to watch me but the rowdy patrons in check. I have no idea who this man is, but I get up and shake his hand. After I have proved this courtesy, I take my seat and wait for the one person I had come to see to come out. However, apparently, our conversation isn’t over; because home boy sits down and begins to tell me the story of his life, over the past three years. (No joke).

So, as he is spinning his tell, I am going over in my head, who this man is. It finally dawns on me that this is Dowdy, a guy I use to hang out with when I was in high school. Wow, had he aged badly. Balding hair, swollen bags under his eyes, sprouts of grey in the hair. I hadn’t seen the man since we’d broken ties and he started robbing his pour grandmother blind.

So, after all is said and done, and I have finished talking to this boy, spoke to other members of the congregation, handed over the book and fought the bride not to force more damn money on me; I went over to my mom’s house. I told my mom how I had ran into Dowdy, but at the time I could not recall his name. What I actually said way, “Hey, mom, guess who I saw at church today.”

“Who?” mom inquires.

“What was the name of that guy who was stilling from his grand mom? I ask. “You know, the lady who use to live across the street for the church…”

“Oh, Dowdy?” my mom asked. She was both surprised and happy with the news. “I haven’t seen him in ages. I didn’t know he was going to Blank Chapel. How is he doing?”

“He changed a lot,” I say. “I didn’t even recognized him.”

I have a great time with my family, including my cousin and ‘em. Even came close to whooping my little nephews butt. Then I went home to get some sleep, before I have to go into work.
Okay, here comes the funny (or sad) part. Around ten, that night, I get a call from my older sister; and here is how that conversation went (oh, and she had my mom on three way).
Sis: Hey, boy, I didn’t see Dowdy at church today.

Me: “Yeah.”

Sis: “Where was he? I didn’t see him.”

Me: “Yes, you did. You spoke to him.”

Sis: “When?”

Me: (Exasperated) “Sis, you spoke to him when you came over to talk to me. Remember. He got up and gave you a hug?

Sis: “Boy, that wasn’t Dowdy. That was Fred.”

Me: “Fred?”

Sis: “Yeah, Fred….He use to date Nikki.”

Me: “Oh, was that Fred? Well, why did he sit down and hold a conversation with me? We weren’t friends.”

Sis: “Boy, you crazy.”

The end.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Officer Down

2009-01-06T23:15:00.001-06:00

Well, my Blog family, here goes my first post of the New Year. I had contemplated blogging on many topics for the Year; from Christmas, to New Years Eve, to my thought process of movie under one roof with my nuclear family. However, today, while over a fellow officers house I got my topic.

Today, January 6, 2009, the Dallas Police Department suffered it first police fatality of the New Year. Of course, when ever I hear of an officer anywhere get injured or killed during the performance of their duties, I am sadden. How could I not be when you consider the fact that officer could be me at any given date and time? However, this one struck me particularly hard, because it was an officer I knew. I didn’t know the officer as well as I knew his wife, but I knew him nonetheless.

The officer was a member of our gang unit and was at a well known apartment complex serving a warrant for a person wanted for Aggravated Assault. What I have learned is that the suspect shot through the door of the apartment, striking the officer in the head. The officer died before they could get him to the hospital. This officer had been on the department for seventeen years, and tomorrow would have marked his eighteenth year on the department.

His wife, who is a lieutenant on the department, has a heart of gold. Before I promoted to either senior corporal or sergeant, she helped me weather the storm of some controversial b.s. that I was being accused of at the station I patrol. She stood by my side, even thought I didn’t even work on the shift she was over. During that particular sad period of my life as an officer, she gave me birthday party at her house and introduced me to her family. Her and her husband came to my art shows, when I use to have them and everything. They were wonderful people.

It so funny, when I was called with the name of the officer who had been shot, I told the other officer, whose house I was at, the name and where he worked. However, it wasn’t until the officer repeated the name back to me that in resonated in my mind exact who the officer was. Isn’t that strange? It took for someone else to say the name for me to realize that this was someone that I actually knew.

Of course we spent the next hour watching the news, getting up dates and phone calls from family; making sure we were okay. I tried to reached the lieutenant, with the hopes that it was not her husband that had been shot, but to no avail.

I was so happy to be with other people, when I got the news, because I am really not that good with tragic events that hit close to home. I get it from my momma; although I’m not quite as bad as her. My mom will go straight Color Purple on your ass. As a matter of fact, my mom isn’t even allowed to be notified if, God forbid, I die in the line of duty. I prefer she just think I’ve just been too busy to call.

Anyway, once I got home and continued to watch the breaking news, I felt an obligation to go down to the hospital, even though I felt it was inappropriate on some levels. You see, if the shoe was on the other foot, I would not want people to come down trying to console me, because it would only make it worse for me emotionally. However, I had to take into consideration that everyone else’s, normal folks, minds don’t work the same as mine. I ended up calling other people to get their input on if I should go down to the hospital or not. I got a mixed review, but in the end I went down. The Lt. was gone and I didn’t feel the need to view the body, so I just stayed a little while, with other officer and then left.

It a sad day on the Dallas Police Department. For does of you who hate the police and all they stand for, just remember that these officers put their lives on the line, everyday, for you and yours, whether you appreciate it or not.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

And God Bless you all.

Don't Look A Gift Horse.....

2008-12-23T16:26:00.003-06:00

Okay, we all know the old adage about how you are never going suppose to look a gift horse in the mouth. But what if said gift horse had an amazing gold grill, a diamond studded tongue ring and his breath smelt amazing; like Doritos. Okay, I know you are all wondering where I’m going with this, so here goes….

As you all know, two weeks ago I had dinner with my little circle of friends. Well, today I was scheduled to have lunch with my good friend Edge and then dinner with my lifelong friends, Violet and Marina. Edge and I were scheduled to meet at noon, exchange gifts and had lunch. So, I drive over to Edge’s house, since we have some lunatic driving around in the Metroplex, shooting randomly at people. I get there and am viciously, verbally attacked by his pets; all of which have little dog syndrome. Then we play his Wii, which is hell-a fun. I want one. Then he gave me my Christmas card. When I see it’s a gift card I am already worried. I open it up and sure enough, this bastard has given me a two hundred dollar gift card to my favorite art supply store. I hate having friends with money. (Well, actually it would be more accurate to say, “friend” with money. Singular)

I know, I know. I sound like an ungrateful bastard and I promise you I’m not, but I am modest. I don’t merit a two hundred dollar gift card. Hell, I didn’t even spend that much on my damn self for Christmas, and I love me. If that Tom Tom wouldn’t have been on self you can bet I wouldn’t have bought that bitch. LOL. Anyway, this makes my paltry little American Express Gift card of fifty dollars, look like nothing. I tried to gift the gift card back to his ass, but he wouldn’t accept it. What a jerk, huh? If my to lady friends pull this shit at dinner, I’m gonna have to set it off! I ain’t playing.

Anyway, after lunch, we stopped by Target and I got gifts for two of my little male cousins, who I don’t think are going to get much for Christmas. They‘re mother is useless and I mean useless. Her ass can’t hold down a job and every year, around this time, she waits to bombard the churches to see what she can get for free, so her kids can have a Christmas. And I mean, every year. This is how every woman on that side of my family rolls. Plus, she’s a bit of a bitch. Anyway, her kids are five and nine, and I decided if I can adopt a whole class room of little strangers, the least I could do would be to by their little asses something for Christmas as well. No kid should have to do without on Christmas.

Anyway, this might be my last post, before Christmas, because my little nephew is getting some cool ass toys for Christmas, and Uncle One Man plans on being there to help him play with each and every one of them. So, here is wishing you all of you amazing people a blessed and Merry Christmas. I truly love and care about each and every one of you. I know that sounds strange, but I don’t care. Yall are like family and plus, I share shit with you people that I don’t share with anyone else. Now, that’s love.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace (on Earth)

Hilarious! Barack Obama Wins the KKK - funny!

2008-12-19T15:54:00.001-06:00

I Love My Tom Tom

2008-12-15T19:07:00.002-06:00

Okay, I am officially done with my Christmas shopping. Lap top for my mom, cash for the siblings, as well as the nieces and nephews, gift cards for a few friends, a Dallas Cowboy afghan for Sgt. Lupe, a customized picture book for my Aunt, Digital Camera, MP3 like DVD player and Tom the Train, Train Set for Manny’s little ass and a Tom Tom for me. That’s right, I know it is not in true spirit of giving, but it was a good deal and I had to get it, cause my ass is always getting lost. Did I tell yall I got lost leaving my cousins house on Thanksgiving? How the hell you gonna get lost leaving the damn place? I mean, I can understand getting lost going, which I did, but leaving….that shit is just ludicrous.

I used it first thing when I got it Wednesday. I opened that bad boy up, turned it on and it was ready to go. I was thinking I was going to have to download some maps and a cd and shit, but nope. It came on and already knew my act location; which was over my mom’s house. (Yall, know I am making a habit of giving my family one of my two days off, right?) So, while I was over my mom I did some basic customizing to my Tom Tom. I programmed in my name and address, so if it gets stolen the thieves will know how to get to my house and return it to me. I programmed in the type of voice I wanted it to speak to me in, a nice little British woman. I programmed it to tell me is I was going over the speed limit. Yeah, the joker knows the speed limit on most major streets and will let me know, with a signal of my choosing, if I go over said limit. (I set it to let me know if I went ten miles over and you know that shit is always going off, right. LOL). I even set it to go off if I pass by a church. I have no idea why I did this, but it asked me if I wanted to and I said yes. Then I just played with some of the little features. That joker will pinpoint any gas stations, hospitals, churches, restaurants, hotels and much more that are closest to me.

The title says it all. I love my Tom Tom. I don’t be listening to it though. For instance, I set it up to guide me to the Italian restaurant that my friends and I went to this weekend, to celebrate the Holiday together. Well, yall know as well as I do that these things don’t always give you the most expeditious route, so I ignore it first bit of instructional advise, because I know the quickest way to get there, I just need it to guide me when I am in the area. It so funny, the little lady is like, “At the next quarter mile, turn left.” I go right, so she tries to get me back on track. “Right exit coming up, at the next quarter mile, turn right.” I keep straight. Eventually it decides that I am too far off to go the route it had originally chosen for me, so it recalibrates a new route. Then I ran into traffic and trying to avoid the shit, I got turned around and had to listen to the bitch, because I got lost. LOL. In my mind I was thinking that my Tom-Tom was like, “So, now yo bitch as wanna listen to me.”

Wouldn’t it be great if they game out with a ghetto version of Tom Tom? They could call the shit June Bug. June Bug would get you there, but he’d get yo ass there with an attitude. I imagine the trip to go like this. “Yo, man, you gonna want to take the next right.” I go straight. “Yo, man, did you not hear my ass say take that right. That’s alright, fuck it. Okay, okay, you gonna have to make this left up ahead to get back on track.” I go straight. “What the fuck! Man, what the fuck you buy me for if you ain’t gonna listen? Damn, I hate when you niggah buy my ass and you probably stole me in the first place. Bitch ass!”

Anyway, I had fun with my friends, took some pictures and stuff. Then decided to go over to my mom’s, which was good, because I got some good shots of Manny and my little brother and sister trimming the tree. How come me and my sister both yelled at Manny because he was putting all the candy canes on one side of the tree? He got over it once he relieved if he broke one he got to eat it.

Anyway, I know I am way behind on my blog reading and I apologize. I will try to catch up tomorrow, on my day off. I will also try to do at least one more post before the Christmas, but just encase I don’t, Merry Christmas, or whatever Holiday you celebrate, to all of you wonderful people all over the world.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Spoiled Bastard

2008-12-09T12:33:00.002-06:00

My little nephew is so damned spoiled. I'm not talking about the bad spoiled, but spoiled nonetheless. Let's see, in addition to adopting his whole freaking Head Start class for Christmas, his uncle One Man has bought him a digital camera, a portable DVD player, and I still want to get him the train set he wants. Hell, his ass would have gotten the bike he wanted, but he want peddle and his uncle don't buy shit his ass want actually ride. His mom has already bought him a read drum set (the boy is three years old).

I sometimes wonder if I should feel guilty about the part I have played in his spoiled-ness. But, he really is not the ass he can be when we are one on one, but around his mommy and his Aunt Dot, he is a whinny little annoyance, that drives his Uncle One Man insane. I honestly can not be around him, sometimes, when these two women are in his presence. And I don't understand why he sometimes acts the fool around his mom, because he has a spanking mom, who will tear that ass up. I, however, can get away with say, "Manny, you know we don't do that" to get him to straighten up. I don't understand that at all.

I love my nephew, you all know that. He owns my heart and only has to share it with his Granny. These are the only two people in the world that I would give the world and lay down my life for. What he really wants is a puppy and I really want to be the one to get him one, but I tell him mom that it is not practical. There is no one at that house that can care for a puppy the way it needs to be cared for. This is one of the reasons I am seriously looking into finding a nice big house that I can move my family into, with me. That way I can be there for both my mom and my nephew and I can buy that new puppy that I need and that Manny can love.

Stay tune, because I really plan on blogging more about my grand scheme for me and my family to live under one roof. I'm going to share the plan and I'm gonna need some serious input from on blog family on this one.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

A Hamster Called Rhino

2008-12-01T15:30:00.001-06:00

Okay, I took my nephew to see Bolt this past Sunday and I gotta say it was a pretty good movie. Admittedly I feel asleep within the first ten minutes of the movie, so I have no idea of how Bolt got separated from Penny, nor do I know how he met his cat companion. Of course, how can you blame me, Manny had my ass up to well past 1. It might fault, because I keep replaying that damn movie, Ice Age, at his request. As soon as I put it on something I wanted to watch, his little ass conked right the fuck out. An then, true to form, he went from being on one side of the bed to being in the dead center, and me about to fall on the floor. It wasn’t until around 6 that I wised up and took myself into another room.
Anyway, by the time I woke up Bolt was in a trailer park and about to encounter the funniest addition to the movie; Rhino the Hamster.

Whoever wrote Rhino into the movie was a genius. That damn hamster had me cracking up. You could hear my laugh throughout the theater. He stole every scene and by the end of it I was wondering when Disney was going to give Rhino his own spin off movie. That damn rodent had me cracking up every step of the way and stole the entire movie. Bolt? Bolt, who? Where the hell is Rhino?

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Weekend at Manny (kind of)

2008-11-30T10:00:00.003-06:00

Yes, Yes, Yes, that is Manny, as he sits on the floor, eating his breakfast of apple slices, peaches and cream oatmeal and orange juice (he will also get a Strawberry Go-Gart) and forces me to endure yet another showing of “Elephant”. For does of you who don’t know, Elephant is Ice Age, and although I love the Ice Age Movie and am looking forward to 3, coming out in 2009; enough is enough already!

Quick background story on how I ended up with little bit for the week end. Well, it’s not actually quick, but I will try to make it as short as possible. Believe it our not it all stems from when I went to pick up Manny to see Madagascar 2, at Head Start. I went in uniform, because his teacher requested that I come out and speak with the children about stranger danger. Yeah, speak to three, four and five years olds about stranger danger. I know, I know, it is never to early to start teaching stranger, but did I really have to be in uniform to do it?

So, I show up around 2:15 to pick him up and his class is taking a nap. Who takes a nap at two in the afternoon, besides me I mean. I figured that they’d be done taking their nap by two. Anyway, the instructor was at lunch and there was an assistant watching the napping ankle biters. I find Manny’s sleeping figure and pick him up off his mat. The first thing that comes out of his mind, as he is being lifted off the floor is; “I don’t want to.” Is that cool. I love my little nephews survival instinct. We grab his backpack (which turned out not to be his) and jacket and was headed out when we encounter his instructor. Apparently the word went out around the building that a police officer was in the house, and since she new I was coming she managed to put tow and two together.

We spoke for about thirty minutes and then she suckered me by asking if I new any of my officers friends that would be interested in adopting one of the classes for Christmas. I didn’t want to tell her that I don’t have any officer friends, so I just volunteered to adopt Manny’s class.

“What does adopting a class consist of?” I ask.

“You just have to buy a toy for each of the kids.”

“Oh, well how many kids are there in Manny’s class?”

“Eighteen.”

In my head I was like. what the fuck! But it there was not turning back, I had already committed myself. Note to self. Next time, before you commit yourself to buy toys for a class room full of kids, ask how many kids are in said class first.

Which brings up to this weekend. My little and big sister were in my area of town, to do some Christmas shopping, and called me to see if I wanted to go with them. Since I’d taken, yet another day off, I said yes. Plus, I wanted them to see the toys I got for the little rug rats, which consisted of remote control cars, dolls, and animated robots. Very cool stuff, that I got a Walgreen, at a very reasonable price. Plus, the manager gave me his employee discount, when he found out the reason behind the purchase. How cool was that?

Anyway, they come in the house and I take them to the bedroom closet, where I have the gifts stored. We try to keep Manny out, but that didn’t work, as I showed them the gifts. He didn’t get a good look at the toys, but he knew there were toys and that was enough. So, once we returned from the mall and they were dropping me back off he told his Mommy that he wanted to stay with Uncle One Man. I figured what the heck, I always say no, I needed to say yes.
As soon as we get into the house that little bastard makes a bee line to the closet of toys and ask, “Can I play with your toys.” The little monster thought he was slick. But the answer was no, so I think the continuous viewing of Ice Age is his way of punishing me. LOL

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Black Friday

2008-11-28T19:55:00.003-06:00

Okay, another Thanksgiving has come and gone and I had a wonderful time with my family. Eating, mingling, football, Rummikub…..Great. No, alcohol no Marijuana. Even better. And NO DRAMA! Priceless.

Yeap, in my family; no drama. Hard to believe, huh. Sorry to let you down, dwashington. Lol
Now comes the best part of the year for me. No more running from Christmas music. Yeah, you heard me right. I hate when Christmas music is played before Thanksgiving. I is just wrong. So I try to avoid it at every turn. However, now it will be nothing but Christmas music for me, now until December 25, I will have Christmas music coming out my ass. Yeap, by the time the actually day gets here I will have had my fill of Christmas music until the next year. LOL
Anyway, I hope you all had the best of Thanksgivings. Did I say I was thankful for my Blog family? Because I am.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Happy Turkey Jive Thanksgiving!

2008-11-26T23:09:00.001-06:00

Okay, here is how it went. The maid came thirty minutes later and it took her a little over four hours and she still didn’t finish everything, but she charged me the same price so I didn’t complain. Besides, I knew her ass was not going to able to finish cleaning my house, with all the things she had to do, in eight hours, let alone four. Hell, it take me about a week just to take care of the main sections of the place and I know where everything goes. I don’t think I’ll be using them again though.

Anyway, once she showed up I went on my merry way. Hung out a Bed Bath and Beyond, Borders Books, Best Buy. Then I went to visit my mom. This woman is amazing. One good hand she cooked Turkey, dressing, mac and cheese, one of those weird ambrosia salads, three cakes, a pie, dressing and I forget what else. She also told me how much my Aunt S spent on the ham….back story in five, four, three, two, one. …

Okay, for the last two years I have been in charge of bringing the ham to Thanksgiving dinner and I have been hooking that bitch up too. LOL. This year my Aunt S decided she wanted me to go in half on a Honey baked ham with her. Now keep in mind my Aunt S has caviar test, so I knew she was going to buy some expensive ass ham. So, true to form, my mom let’s me know that Aunt S bought a sixty dollar ham. The “big” one. This better be one big ass ham. But I am not going to complain. I’m just gonna give her my thirty dollars and be about it.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow, so while you are out and about eating and enjoying the family (for as long as you can stomach them), be safe and remember to truly be thankful. We are truly blessed!

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

As for you, dwashington, I am not expecting any drama on Thanksgiving, but I can understand why you would think there would be. However, I will keep you posted. You never know. There was much drama last year, that you boy was smack dab in the middle of. I’m not sure I shared it though, since I came out looking bad in the story. LOL

2008-11-25T16:27:00.003-06:00

I am so pissed off right now. Yes, this is my second post today! I went out to clean my damn car, the inside at any rate; and I noticed that someone has taken the sticker off my registration receipt. Yes, you heard me right. I am like to think of myself as a responsible brother. Messy, yes, but responsible as hell. So, I try not to do anything last minute, because if I do I will forget to do it all together. So, when it came time to renew my registration sticker I did it immediately. Literally a month a head of time. When the sticker came in the mail I left it in my car, because no one rides in my car but me and my little nephew, at times. That’s it.

Well recently I have been being nice and switching out cars with my niece and little sister. They have sports utility vehicles and it just makes it easier for me when it comes to my mom’s wheel chair. Mainly because I keep my truck so packed full of shit, I don’t want to move it to make room for the chair. I get it…that’s my bad. However, when I let you take possession of my car I expect you to take care of the bitch and not to go rambling through shit and I definitely don’t expect you to steal from me.

You see where I am going with this? Yeah, as I am cleaning out my car, tossing papers and shit, I run across the Registration receipt that they adhered the registration sticker on, but no registration sticker. I sit there and look at it and I am thinking; “I don’t remember putting that on my car.” So, I walk over to the front of my car and sure enough the old sticker is still there (It expires the end of this month). So, I send out a text to little brother, little sister and niece asking if they remember seeing the sticker. I am not make yet, because I am keeping an open mind, as I continue to clean out my fucking car. Eventually I get three texts back saying no, in various ways, but the overall concessions is that no one has seen it. Well, the damn thing didn’t up and fly away, so I sent out this text to all parties.

“Everyone said no, so here is my problem. I have the receipt with no sticker adhered to it. Yall are the only ones that have let drive my car. Please ask your friends because it will cost me another seventy five dollars to replace the damn thing.”

Keep in mind that I don’t curse around my family, not even the little curse word like damn, so I threw that in there to let them know I was pissed off. Low and behold I get a phone call from my niece saying that this girl she use to hang around with might have taken it. Of course, she doesn’t hang around with the bitch any more because she found out that the bitch steals. Yeah, that makes me feel good. “Why is your friend going through my stuff, Stacy. Better yet, why are you allowing her to go through the things in my car?” Of course she has no good answer for me, but she knows that the friend of this friend needed a registration for HER car. What the fuck!

I am so fucking pissed out right now. I can‘t stand to be stolen from! This is why I don‘t allow my family to use my shit and this is why I am reluctant to ask them to house sit when I am out of town. And this is why I no longer host on the Holidays. I can‘t trust their asses to do the right thing. Don‘t get me wrong. I trust my little brother and sister, I already figured that Stacy had something to do with the shit, but they ass well allow the bad element into the fucking equation.
I am hella pissed right not. Just when I am about to pry open my wallet and let loose with the change to get my house professional cleaned, I have to put up with this shit! This is one of the main reasons I am so stand offish to their damn friends and why I hate that they allow them into my mother house.

Maid to Order

2008-11-25T13:23:00.002-06:00

I did. I actually did it. I can’t believe that I did it and I hope I don’t regret it. We’ll know by tomorrow, the day before Thanksgiving.

Sunday, I went out on a blind date. I don’t want to talk about it. However, while en route to said date I saw this chick driving a car advertising a maid service. I immediately took out my cell phone and dialed the number on the side of the car. Of course the place was closed so I left a detailed message. Well, someone called me back today. Actually she called my ass back several times. I missed the first four calls because I was sleep. And you know why I was sleep? Because I woke up at seven in the morning with my mind set on cleaning my house from top to bottom. Yeah, it didn’t work out that way. What I ended up doing was eating a bowl of cereal and taking my happy ass back to sleep.

Anyway, it was the fifth call that I decided to wake up for and the lady was very nice. She asked me what kind of cleaning I was looking for and went on to describe the two packages. I took the second one for $97.37. With that package they clean the house, cobwebs, oven , icebox, laundry, floors, windows, toilets, sinks, dishes, I think they will even wipe my ass, but I neglected to ass. I get all that for two hours, twenty five dollars for each additional hour. Now, since I am an Oscar Madison type I tried to warn the woman that she didn’t know what she was getting her maids into, but she said they were use to cleaning bachelor pads. Whatever. I’m going to let them take a stab out of it and then make a decision if I am going to continue to use them on a bi-weekly or monthly basis. I’m thinking monthly.

So, what do you think? Does that sound like a good price? I’ve never had a maid before. I always clean my own house. You know….sometimes. Of course a bi-yearly cleaning is never a good thing. Oh, oh, and did I say that they supply all of the cleaning materials? Cause they do!
Oh, well, now that I don’t have a house to worry about, I think I’m going to go outside and clean my car. I lost my damn check book, which you would think would be hard to do when you consider it is the size of a three ring binder, and I think it is in my car someone. Yeah, my car is mess as well. I need to work on my cleaning skills.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Oh, and before I go, on last question. Are you suppose to tip a maid? This is my first time, so I don't know. I know you tip a prostitute, if she does a good job, but maids are providing a whole other type of service.

Question

2008-11-24T20:18:00.001-06:00

Er, why are so many....um, men on Youtube recreating this damn video? And is that his dick or his belly button? Either way...scary.

I Miss Roscoe

2008-11-24T19:41:00.002-06:00

I truly miss my dog, Roscoe. I try not to think about it but the reality is that not a day goes by that I don’t think of that damn dog. It’s virtually impossible not to think about him, because he was apart of my everyday life. Anytime I walked into the living area he sensed my presenses and was at the back door. He knew the sound of my engine, with both the Avalanche and the Nissan, and would already be running at the gate as I drove up the alley. He was always happy to see me.

Roscoe was a smart ass dog too. Did you know that I managed to house break him in three days. Seriously, three days. He was the first dog that I ever took time out to teach to sit, stay, walk by my side, come when I actually called. I’m a bit of an Oscar Mattison so it was easier to teach him not to fuck with my shit then it was to teach me to pick up after myself. He didn’t even tear up the trash. I could leave him in the house, when a full trash can and he would not touch it. Even if I left something tempting in it.

I hate the fact that I was not there for him during the moment that he needed me the most. I hate the fact that he died alone. I loved my puppy.

Every now and again I feel like I should get a new dog, but I’m not sure that I’m ready. If I did get another one I would want to get another Rottweiler. I even have the name set aside for him. No, it’s not Obama. I don’t need people wondering if my dog is Muslim and it preventing him from running for president of the National Kennel Club. Nope, I’d name my new dog Othello. How cool is that? But, no, I can’t replace Roscoe and I don’t think I’m ready to let another dog into my heart.

Plus, I am still contemplating paying off this damn house in two years. I was going to do it this year, but since I have a lot of things planned for next year, if God says the same. For example, Manny turns four in June and I want to start our tradition of an annual trek to Disney Land. Plus, since I took the older syblims to New York two years ago for their birthdays. Next year I want to take the twins. We would have done it this year, but Duce didn’t have a job and he needs to be able to pay for his own shit while out there. So, I’m going to wait until January 2010 to pay this bad boy off. Wish me luck. Maybe by then I’ll be ready to bring a new puppy into my life.
For now, I am truly alone.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Shane Mercado Does Beyonce's

2008-11-22T13:00:00.001-06:00

It’s amazing. Homeboy is totally in sync with this chorography. I ain’t mad at him; the guy has much talent. I am mad that he still lives at home with his mom and had to lock his bedroom door while he taped the version of this that ended up on you tube. If you listen carefully, on that one, you can hear his mother yell, “Shane, you better not be dancing to another fucking Beyonnce video!”

He probably got laid after this video. I bet he has an enlarged cliterous too. LOL! Yeah, that was just wrong, but I couldn’t resist.

But seriously, the man is hella talented. The fact that he was able to teach himself all those steps is amazing to me. It also tells me that his ass doesn't have a job!

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

I'm So Confused!

2008-11-22T12:29:00.001-06:00

First of all this bastard…bitch…bastard….bitch…bast….oh forget it…This B word knew damn well that they were going to get publicity when they said that his as was pregnant! Stop playing. (Homeboy made that statement in another clip, about being shock at the amount of publicity they were getting.)

Still, I am so confused and I thought I was getting it, up until today. Hell, I was neither shocked nor disturbed by the fact that he was pregnant, once I realized that he was born a she. Hell, I took biology, I know that a woman can get pregnant if all her factory parts work correctly. Nor was I shocked when I found out that he was pregnant again. Although if you were looking at the View when Barbara Walters made the announcement….The whole study audience let out a collective gasp. You would have thought she’d said the dude was pregnant with a litter of kittens. Seriously. Hell, I was offended.

However, this comment on Larry King truly shocked my ass. Up until today I was not the least bit concerned with how these two individuals got their booty on. Hell, what two consented adults due in the privacy of their own house, motel room, whatever, is their own business. I honestly don’t understand why people getting up perturbed about what other people do with their private parts. That being said….ewwww! I’m sorry. Your boy is as open minded as they come, except when I am being racist or bigoted, but come on. An enlarged cliterous? Really? That shit just sounds painful. And just how enlarged is your citreous that you can have intercourse with it, as if it was a penis? It makes you wonder if it is uncomfortable for him to wear pants.

Seriously, is it just me, because that statement kind of freaked my ass out a little bit. I mean, I thought I knew what a cliterous was and what it looked like and what it’s function was, but I gotta tell you; my ass went on a cliterous hunt. I was all up in Google, blowing up pictures of cliterouses and shit. Maybe I had a misunderstanding of what I was looking for, after all, I don’t own one myself, although there is this sex shop…..

Hell, to me this statement was the equivalent to me saying, “Hey, baby, although my penis no longer works we can still have intercourse using my enlarged sphincter muscles, I know. I know. That’s just ignorance on my part, but still. A enlarged cliterous? And then they looked at Larry King’s ass like he was insane for not knowing that they had sexual intercourse with homeboy’s enlarged female genitalia. And then, so funny, Larry King’s ass was like, “Uh, I didn’t know that.” WHO THE HELL DID? LOL.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Run Nigga, Run

2008-11-19T23:17:00.001-06:00

What the Hell?

I Like to Move It, Move it

2008-11-17T22:02:00.001-06:00

Last week I took my nephew to see Madagascar 2, which is really not appropriate for children, I might add. It is funny though, so I can make allowances. Plus, at three, a lot of it went over Manny’s head. However, don’t get it twisted, because I know how intuitive (or should I say impressionable) children are, especially this little boy.

Did I ever tell you good people the story of when Manny was about two years old and I noticed that he had a stuttering problem? Yeah? Oh, well, some of you might not remember it and I don’t recall telling it so I’m gonna recant it. When Manny was about two years old and really learning to put words together I was over to the house feeding him. I was trying to have what passes for a conversation with my little nephew and I noticed that he had developed a stuttering problem. I mean it was a bad problem too. When you asked him something, his eyes would roll back and he would struggle to get the words out.

Well, as luck would have it, I’d had a class on child abuse and learned how sometimes stuttering can be triggered by a traumatic event. Now, since I spent enough time with my nephew to know that this was not his everyday speech pattern, I realized that something had to be going on. So, I confronted my little sister and asked her what traumatic event had befallen my little nephew that was causing him to stutter. She told me nothing. I was like, No, not nothing because he didn’t use to stutter and now he does. What occurred within the week or so since last I saw him that would cause him to stutter?

She stood by the fact that there was no event that had occurred that would traumatize my nephew and cause him to be stuttering like he was. So, I let it go. After all, she was around her son pretty much 24/7 and knew him better than I did. Well, a couple of hours passed by and my sister comes to me with the revelation on where Manny had learned to stutter.

You see, when Manny was at this age his mom use to work in a barbershop. Being a single mom and not always having someone to leave her son with, she would oft times take Manny to work with her. She told me that there was one occasion that the shop was watching The Kings of Comedy and she caught Manny also paying close attention to the comedy styling of Bernie Mac. It had not dawned on him, until that exact moment that this was the reason why he was stuttering. It was funny too, because as I watched him I could actually see him mimicking Bernie Mac’s ever mannerism in that part of his comedy routine. It was still scary and I was afraid that he would have allowed that to become a permanent part of the way he spoke. However, once mommy realized that was the cause of the stuttering she nipped that shit in the bud. She made him cut that shit out and popped his little tail when he did it. Not exact Parenting 101, but it worked. LOL

Anyway, Manny, my Mom and Me went to see Madagascar 2 last week, but I think I enjoyed it more than both of them. Not saying that Manny didn’t enjoy it, but while we were waiting for the movie to start they showed the preview for Bolt and he decided that that was the movie he wanted to see. Yeah, you ain’t at home little man. Get over yourself.

Once the movie started, Manny sat in his chair, like a big boy, eating popcorn and watching the film. Now, I am not sure at what point he decided that it would be more comfortable to sit on Uncle One Man’s lap. But during the movie, he politely climbed up in my lap, kicked back, like I was his on private lounge chair, ate his popcorn and enjoyed the rest of the movie.

Now, I know some of you out there are thinking; “Aw, what a precious moment.” Whatever. I took it as his little ass saying that Uncle One Man is better cushioned than the seats in the theater. I really need to get on an exercise program, yall.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Ieshia, Southern Gal, Running Mom, what did you little ones think of the movie. Ieshia and Southern Gal, I know your little men are around the same age as Manny.

Party Time

2008-11-16T12:34:00.003-06:00

Yesterday we celebrate the siblings birthdays. Yes, every one of my siblings were born in the month of November. Both my older sisters and the twins. I was the odd one out. Middle child, born in August.

I had a blast at the party. My mommy did an outstanding job. This was all her idea. However, I gotta say, it didn’t start off all that great. I took my mom to purchase the food and the birthday cakes. Mom decided on hero sandwiches and we ordered one sheet cake and four little individual cakes with each person’s name on them. I had made arrangements for my niece to pick up the cakes, since they lived down the street from the Wal-Mart, the day we ordered them. Surprise, surprise, I get a phone call from my mommy, on Friday, telling me that she needs me to go pick up the cakes because my niece want be able to. Well, that’s find, I always set up myself up to be the contingency plan. Problem was, when I go to pick up the cakes there are no cakes to be found. Where are the cakes? The ladies behind the counter are looking all over and I guess I appeared to be a bit annoyed because one apologies for upsetting me. I had to tell her I wasn’t upset at all. Anyway, they are just about to read do all these damn cakes, as I wait, when it dawns on me to call my niece to see if she picked up the cakes. Sure enough, she had. I am pissed off. Not with my niece, because she did what I asked her to do, but with my mom. Her ass is always trying to do too much and then always gets the shit backwards. Yall know I love my mom, but damn….It turned out that she hadn’t even asked my niece if she was going to be able to go and pick up the cakes. She’d just assumed that she wouldn’t be able to because she was also helping to prepare a wedding shower that day. It was actually my fault. I know my mom, I should have followed up to confirm if she know what she was talking about.

Anyway, I head over to the house where my mom and my two other nieces are already there, preparing sandwiches and decorating the house. They did a really good job. Absolutely no drama, which is always a good thing. The party starts a 5pm, and all the guest and the twins are there for the festivities. Older sister number one is not there yet, because has not left the shower that she was helping to throw for her sister-in-laws upcoming wedding. And older sister number two is not there because her my nephew, her youngest, has been arrested for his warrants and she has to go get his ass out. Now yall know my motto…Let their grown asses sit it out. PAY YOUR DAMN TICKETS!

Once everyone is there we eat, laugh, talk and play games. Spades, Dominoes and Rummikub. Here comes the drama. Yes, while mom, aunt, older sister number one and myself were playing Rummikub in the kitchen, one of my young sibling’s friends comes in and fixes herself some punch. When she exit the kitchen, I get up to fix myself some punch. How come just as I walk over to the spot where she’d just left I get the distinct aroma of reefer? Yes, folks, it was as if she’d passed gas and left a odor of marijuana behind. So, of course I am just a little pissed and I am debating if I should go see what exactly is going on outside and in the other parts of the house. After all, not only is the shit disrespectful to my mom, but we have kids at this party. So you know what I did, right? I charged their asses up and then I went outside, pulled my little brother to the side. I don’t care if his ass is thirty, and told him very nicely that he needs to make it known to his friends that they can’t be doing that shit around his mother or his law enforcement brother.

Other than that, the party was a ball and a good time was had by all. Towards the end it was just me, the twins, a guys the twins went grew up with and my little brother’s forty-three year old lover (who was drunk off her ass, I might ass). Now, I have no idea how her ass got so hammered, because there was not alcohol at this party. She eventually passed out on the sofa, leaving the rest of us to play spades and talk about the roles of black people in the world, regardless of the fact that we have a black president elect. We also song the theme songs to every sit-com known the man, which was hilarious in it’s own right. It was 3:15 in the morning, when I finally left and home girl was still out cold on my mom’s sofa.

Now, answer me this. What kind of marriage do you have where one of you can be out past three and it not be a problem? Trust me. It would be a problem for me.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Something New

2008-11-15T13:03:00.003-06:00

Okay, things that annoy me in the phone crazy world. First I hate it when you accidentally call the wrong number and no one answer. Now, my problem is not really with someone not answering the phone when they don’t recognize the number. However, I hate it when they call back and when you answer the first word out of their mouth are; “Who this?” Motherfucker, whose THIS? Seriously, don’t call my number and ask who I am. If you wanted to know who it was you should have answered the damn phone when I called. If you didn’t know who I was when I called you the first time and I didn’t leave a message, then it probably a good chance it was a misdial and I don’t want to talk your ass. Let that shit slide.

I also hate it when does damn telemarketers call you and then put you on hold for a live person. Or worst, when they call you and play like they know who you are, thus catching you off guard so they can try to sale you something. Every now and again they might slipping, but not often. After all, it is so easy to tell when it is a telemarketer is on the other end of the line, because when you answer the phone there is always a pause on the other end, before the person response. By the time they answer they get a click. Stop trying to talk to me!

I told you all of that to lead up to the phone call I made on my cell phone,, en route to work last night. You see, back in July this young lady was involved in an accident where she had to swerve to prevent getting hit by a vehicle headed in the other direction. At least that was the story that she gave me a couple of weeks back, when I spoke to her at work. Apparently, by swerving to avoid being hit by this on coming vehicle she drove her car into a pole, causing injury to herself and the friend that were in the car with her. Well, now her friend are suing her for their medical bills and goodness knows what else.

The reason for her phone call to me, once again two weeks back, was to tell me that one of my officers had completed the accident report wrong and it needed to be changed so that her friends would not sue her. I tried to explain to her that we don’t redo accident reports from such a long time ago and even if we did, it would not prevent her friends for suing her. Hell, we live in a litigious society. Next time get some insurance that covers you and your passengers. Anyway, we go back and forth as she tells me all the things that my officer did and did not do. I told her I appreciated what she was saying, but I need to talk to my officer and get back to her.

Okay, I admit that after doing all my research, which included talking to the officers that worked the accident and then contacting an actual accident investigator to find out our policy on adding supplements to accident reports, I found out that I was completely right and thus I didn’t feel the need the call this argumentative woman back to explain what I had already explain to her in our initial conversation. Okay, yeah, that was my bad. I admit to being obligated to calling her back if I said that I would. Sue me.

So, after not hearing from me she called and spoke to my lieutenant, who told her pretty much the exact same thing I had, but he asked me to call her back and explain it to her once more. What the fuck? (This was the day before yesterday, and it was past midnight so I decided that I would call her on my way to work yesterday, at a more decent hours).

So, and it took me a hell of a long time to get to this, while driving to work I give the young lady a call on my cell phone (yeah, I hate it when people talk on the cell phone while driving too.) The phone goes directly to the chicks voice male, so I leave a message telling her who I was, why I was calling and asking her to call me at the station when she gets this message. I even gave her my name and station phone number twice.

While I am leaving this message I hear the little tone that let’s me know that someone has just sent me a text message. So, after hanging up I look and sure enough, I have a new text message. I check to see who it is from and it simply shows a phone number. I go on to read the message; “Who this?” Who this? I am puzzled for a second and then I realize that the text came from the exact person that I had just called. What the fuck? Instead of answering the damn phone, she chooses to send my ass a text to see who it is. Bitch, we ain’t friends. Answer the damn phone. Better yet, check your damn messages and find out who the hell it is. And get this. The heifer never did call my ass back. At work or on my cell phone. WHAT THE FUCK!

Anyway, that was new to me. Just thought I’d share.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

I Tried Not To.....

2008-11-14T11:12:00.004-06:00

Okay, I know I have not posted in a while, but I couldn’t let this one slide. Today they called and woke my ass up to report to City Court. City Court is where you go for simple Class C traffic violations. They called me at nine to be there at 9:30am. Yeah, they don’t give you a chance to wipe your ass, let alone brush your teeth.

Anyway, as I am walking into the court building and heading up the various sets of stairs, to sign in for court, I run into this family of seven. We have mother, father, and the five stair step kids. Yall do know what stair step kids are, right? That’s when the kids born so close together that their difference in height is only a matter of inches. I kid you not, people. The kids had to be ages three, four, five, six and the little four to five month old strapped to his or her mother’s chest. I’m not joking about the ages either, folks. I mean homeboy was back up into mommy’s goodies before the stitches had time to heal.

So, I was walking up my first set of stairs when I run into the little clan, and they walking in a horizontal line, so I have to hug the wall to get by them (not really, but close). As I was walking up the second set of stairs I hear this thumping sound. “Clunk-ity, Clunk, Thump, Clump, Thump, Stud.” So, I run over to look over the banister when I see the four year old sprawled out on the floor, looking up at his parents. I got to give the little man credit though. He manned up and didn’t cry or anything. You have thought this kind of thing happened everyday, especially since the parents didn’t seem to react at all.

But that’s not what this post is about. The post is about the fact that once I realized the kid was alright, I had to fight to urge to laugh. I mean I literally had to bit my lip to suppress a smile, because that shit was too funny. And yes, I know that it is sick to want to laugh when someone falls down and potentially hurt themselves, but I can’t help it. Anytime someone falls down I find that shit extremely funny. I don’t care the race, gender or age. That shit is just funny to me. It’s a sickness, but it’s not my fault. I was brought up on Slap Stick humor. The Three Stooges, Laurel and Hardy, and all those other black and white comedy geniuses use to crack my ass up.

I gotta say, it’s a bit hypocritical as well. Seeing as that I am the first to wanna fight when if I fall down and someone laughs.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Obama Takes It!

2008-11-04T23:13:00.001-06:00

When my mom called to tell me that Obama had taken the election I told her that I was going to wait until the last ballot had been tallied. Then I turned the television back on the news and saw McCain give up the ghost, which was his Presidential hopes. And not only did Obama win, but he whooped that ass. I gotta admit that I felt a little bit sorry for McCain. He had to be thinking, “What if…”

You know, I am way behind on my blog readings, but I guess I don’t have to check on my fellow bloggers to see what they will be talking about tomorrow, huh. Anyway, I choose this song because it fit’s the mood and makes me wanna cry all at the same time.

I am so proud of Americans that they were able to put down their racist beliefs and take a chance on something new. But it ain’t over people Now we gotta pray even harder that they allow him not only make it to the Inaugural Ball, but give him his a shot at four years. I hope he doesn’t have to become a martyr to make a difference.

Make no mistake people. God is good. All the time.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Miracles and Movies

2008-10-29T00:16:00.003-05:00

First things first. The sky opened up today, the sun shown a little brighter and all of the birds sung in harmony. Oh, and I think Hell might have froze over a little bit, but I’m still unclear on that. That’s right. My brother started work yesterday. Can you believe that. The man has an actual job! I don’t know what it is, or how much it pays and I don’t care. I’m just glad the boy is working! What about benefits, you ask. The benefit is that he starts earning his own money.

Okay, so today, after I found out that my little brother was working, I took my mom to early vote and then we met my two sisters and nephew at the movies. We went to see the Secret Life of Bees. It goes without saying that my nephew wasn’t interested in the movie and I gotta say, I didn’t care for it much my damn self. That’s right, I said it…I did not like the movie, The Secret Lives of Bees! I thought it sucked like a Hover vacuum and I want those few hours of my life back. I seriously almost walked out on it, but I wanted to see how they were going to end it.

My mom and sisters enjoyed it, so maybe I am being too tough on the movie because I read the book. That’s what my older sister said, anyway. And she is probably at least partially right. I was, after all, finding myself comparing it with the book, but I have seen plenty of movies that were based on movies and enjoyed them. The Firm. The Color Purple. The Women of Brewster Place. The Last Unicorn. Yes, The Last Unicorn. Don’t judge me, damn it. Still, I just was not feeling this movie. I just don’t think they did a good job. Even the parts that should have touched me, like May’s (I want say what happened), didn’t.

I think they changed around too many of the significant moments, when they should have stayed more true to the original outline of the book. I mean, I have no problem with people making changes for the screen play, but let those changes add to, not take away from the plot of the movie and the character’s development. Case in point, the reason why Rosaline got beat down and how Lilly actually managed to get her out of the hospital. Why the little boy actually end up in jail. I could name a lot, but those are some of the ones that stood out for me.

And the casting was done poorly. I think that Alicia Keyes, Dakota Fanny and the chick that played May were good in their roles and appropriately cast, but Queen Latifia and Jennifer Hudson did not fit their parts at all. First of all, August should have been an older and thinner woman. Plus, I think that the Queen should have played the part a little less masculine. She just didn‘t come off as a naturally mother type. Then there was Jennifer Hudson’s character. This was not Ms. Hudson’s shinning moment on the big screen. Plus, the character should have been an older, more heavy set woman. She didn’t even make up believe that she chew snuff. They should have made that part more clear. Hell, If I hadn’t read the book I would have just thought her spit was dirty. And what the hell was a Obama/Biden campaign poster doing in the movie? That was just going too far.

Anyway, that is my review of the movie. Hated it! But don’t take my word for it. Like I said, my sisters and mom liked it. However, as for Manny and Me. We be waiting to peep Madagascar 2.

That’s right, baby.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

I am overjoyed that my little brother got a job. But I gotta admit that I miss seeing his dumb ass.

Family, Gotta Love 'em

2008-10-22T10:02:00.003-05:00

I am having so much fun hanging out with my family on my days off. This week I took Monday off so that I could have two good days with my family. I had scheduled to take my mom to the movies to see the Secret Life of Bees, but we had to reschedule for next Tuesday, so one of my other sisters can accompany us. We went to see Eagle Eye instead. It was a toss up between Eagle Eye and Lake View Terrace, but there was a brother outside the theater who said he thought we’d enjoy Eagle Eye better, so we went with his recommendation. My mom liked it, I thought it was okay. Next week, The Secret Life of Bees.

While going to the movies my mom clued me in on all the new drama going on in the family. Well, not exactly new. Just new to me, since I am always the last the know. It would seem that my eldest, big sister, the one who I wouldn’t loan the money too, is having trouble with her common law hubby of over twenty years. (Yeah, what else is new.) Well, apparently he is having an affair, that big sis knows about, and refuses to stop. This has lead big sis into contemplating leaving the bastard. My mom told my sister not to let anyone drive her away from her house. If anyone leaves it should be him. Whatever. I told my mom that I didn’t understand how it was that big sis could be casting stones when she, herself, has been cheating on the man for years. My mom’s answer to that was that big sis had been doing better and cutting back. LOL. I love my mom. She’s got her children’s backs.

Anyway, I wasn’t surprised by the fact that the bastard was having an affair (not that this use of bastard is not meant with love), but what my mom told me next kind of blew me away. The person that the bastard is having an affair with is his cousin. Now I don’t know if it is a first, second or third cousin and I don’t care. It is his cousin. Yall know that shit is just nasty. And it gets better. The apparently this affair has been going on for longer than I’ve been a police officer and I’ve been a cop for a little over ten years now. The kicker is that this affair is known by his mother, who I am told condones the affair and has let it take place in her house. This is a woman that I always thought my sister was close too, but apparently not as close as I thought. Oh, oh, and get this. Now his mother is about to lose her house to bankruptcy and they are also fighting about the possibility of her coming to live with them if this happens. (Just for the record, they already live right down the block from his mother to begin with. Literally less than a block away.)

Then I learnt more about my little brother’s affair with forty-one year old married woman. I am still trying to understand this one and am very disappointed in my little brother. My mom finally told me that she was going to kick my little brother out over this affair, because she didn’t raise him this way, but then she prayed about it and decided better of that decision. She is hoping that he will come to his senses. Well, the woman came over while I was there and I was able to confirm that it was the chick he was locked up in his bedroom with the night I brought over Little Leroy. I had to let my mom know that this woman is up in her house at night time as well. I had to ask my little sister if the woman had a job, because I don’t see how she is able to be over to the house during the daytime and night time hours. And how dumb is this chicks husband. I watched The Family That Preys and thought that there was no way that a husband could be that clueless of his wife’s infidelity, but I stand corrected. I was told that the man has been over to the house to help fix his son, ex-twenty-three year old cuddy buddy to my little sister. So, he is definitely aware of my family’s involvement in his family’s life.

Now, get this. My sister said that the woman tries to cook for the family. And yesterday, while I was over, they, meaning my little brother, the MLF (Mother’s we’d Like to Fuck), and her twenty-three year old son, was over cleaning up the backyard. I am talking racking up leaves, picking up debris, the works. Then they sat back there and smoked and drunk alcohol (something that we don’t normally do in my family). An wonders of all wonders. My big sis that I was talking about came over and joined them. Well, big sis, is ghetto hood and she will turn on your ass in a minute. It was around eight o’clock, and I was in the family room with little sis, when I heard yelling. I don’t know what was said, but the woman eventually went home. LOL.

I told little sis it was her fault for bringing that mess into the family. I jokingly asked her if she thought it was incest to be dating the son of her twin brother’s forty-one year old mistress. She let me know that she was not apart of that mess and was trying to get little brother out of it. She and I are still dumb founded by the fact that the twenty-three year old is not only okay with, but friends with the man his mother is cheating on his father with. WTF.

I still don’t know what she sees in my little brother. He will turn thirty on the third of November. And although he has a college degree, he ain’t doing shit with it. And, yesterday I had to tell his damn pant up from under his ass cheeks and remind him that he was about to be thirty and too old to be wearing his clothes like that.

Anyway, I still had fun. At around nine that night we finally reached an understanding to the game I bought over for us to play. Rummikub. It was hella fun and my little brother came in and played with me and mom. The little bastard won too. He makes me sick. He just has a knack for games. Drives me crazy. But I laughed so much. My mom thinks that she should get forever to play, but as soon as it was little brother’s time she was like, hurry up! It is so funny. And big sister came in to watch and instigate. It is like this with any game we play, other than spades or dominos.

I love my family. They even made me forget the drama going on at work, if only for a moment and time. I am going over there again today. My mom is biting on the bit for another game of Rummikub. I love her, but I’m gonna have to whoop her ass in some Rummikub.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Isn’t it funny, about blogs I mean? In real life, I would never put my family’s dirty laundry out in the street like this, but in blog land I get to let it all blow free. I love you guys.

WoW!

2008-10-21T04:38:00.001-05:00

So Damn Mad

2008-10-20T16:59:00.003-05:00

I am so mad right now I am seeing red! I don't think I have ever been this angry, in my entire life! I wish I could put my anger into words, but they are too mangled to typed.

Have you ever heard of someone being livid? Well, I am actually livid!

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

2008-10-19T11:34:00.000-05:00

Open You Minds, Damn It!

2008-10-15T09:00:00.002-05:00

I have something for people to ponder before the big election and during the big debate.
I have been keeping my eye on this election more so than any other. And why wouldn’t I? this election is going to be historical in one way or another. Either we will have I very first black president or our very first female vice-president. Wow,. Who would have thought it, be here we are.

So, that being said you would have think just how much thing have changed and how far we have come. Instead all we learn is just how much more racist and sexist this world is. People who want to compare Obama to Curious George. Not because Curious George is a cute little, mischief maker, but because he is a monkey. People telling Hillary, when she was running, to make them a sandwich. Now, with Pailin, they are already to exploit the fact that she is an attractive woman and a porn is about to be made with a woman that bares a striking likeness to the Governor of Alaska.

Why is it that we can’t just look at these people like people? I had no problem with Hilary being President or Obama’s running mate, until she started playing dirty pool and I lost respect for her. Not as a woman, but as a person. Although I knew it was a ploy to get the female vote, I had no problem with Governor Pailin. Until I listened to he speak on some of the topic and found out that she was an idiot. Okay, maybe idiot isn’t the right word. Let’s go with ignorant. Ignorant of the game. Ignorant of policies. Ignorant of the facts. Okay, let’s go back to idiot. And before you say that there are plenty of Americans that the same came be said for, please remember that those Americans are not vying for the number two position as Chief of State.

The day before yesterday, I was the Station Sergeant so I spent the entire night doing paper work and watching news shows that would speak to the candidates and their running mates. I am not much of a news person, but I gotta say that I found myself becoming immerged in all of the information, both fact and fiction. I was also amazed at how closed minded people can be, failing to evening be open to seeing where their side might be wrong and the other side might be right. The officer (female) who came into work the office that morning, is a hardcore McCain supporter. And it’s not that she loves McCain, it is that she hates Obama. She actually told me this. And I hate to call her racist, because I like this female (white), besides her husband is a brother. Anyway, I was kidding her about McCain being behind and the polls. You know what the heifer said? She said, “Her only hope was for all the bigots to get together and vote against Obama.” Now, to be honest, I thought that was funny as hell. I actually cracked up because I know that although she was joking, a many of honest statements are said in jest.

I personally have been keeping an open mind. I have been listening to the debates. Hearing what is being said by each candidate. Judging each on their own merits. Sure, as a black man I am dick hard excited about the prospect of someone who looks like me making it into the head chair. However, if I vote for Obama, will it be just because he is black? Hell, no. If that was the case I would have voted for Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton. No, Obama is bring something to the table that has nothing to do with his color.

So, why is it that white people ask the question of black people; “If Obama was white would you still vote for him?” My answer to that somewhat racist question is, “Mother fucker, if McCain was black would you being voting for him.” How about we all just close our eyes, tape cardboard over our television screens, and just listen to the issues at hand and vote for the person who actually has our best interest in mind. Because, let’s face it, people. Right now, black, white, male, female, we are all getting fucked together.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Oh, and just for the record. If for some reason you are still unable to make a decision.....Vote for the brother. CHANGE. Come Help A Negro Get Elected.

Did You Ever?

2008-10-10T13:59:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I had trouble sleeping because this bitch of a sergeant (male) resent me to rude ass email. I promise you, I am going to beat his unprofessional ass. I ain’t lying. Anyway the email bade me so mad that I couldn’t even sleep prior to going to work, which lead to me being hella tired at work. Sgt. Lupe drove me around and my ass was nodding off in the car like nobody’s business. That is until we got the burglary in process. Needless to say I was all over that and I assisted in capturing two of the three bastards. Can you believe that one of them was only 15 years old, the other seventeen. Of course you can, but that is not what this post is about. Although, just for the record, I still believe that if you are still of school age, look like me and I catch you committing a crime…Instead of taking you to jail I need to have the right to take off my belt and whoop your little ass.

Anyway, so I veered completely off topic her. So, back to not being able to sleep to save my life, prior to going to work. I telling you I was hyped up for a fight and wondering how I was going to have this confrontation with Sgt. Asshole, without losing my temper (I still have not lost it and I promise you it is a daily task with the idiots that I encounter on a daily basis). So, as I am laying in bed my mind began to wonder. I began to think about my step-father and how he was mean to me. Which lead to me thinking about my childhood. Growing up with two older sisters, before the twins were born. Which lead to me thinking about the time I walked in on my mom and step-father having sex. AGHHHHHH!

Yeah, not to traumatizing.

It happened quit innocently enough. You see, my family didn’t have much money and we only had two television. A black and white one that my grandmother had given to me and one of my sisters and the one in my parents room. Of course, being the baby boy, my sisters hogged the black and white television and I didn’t want to watch what they were watching, so I ventured into my parents room to see if I could watch television with them. Now mind you, this was on a Saturday, in the middle of the day, and I was nine years old. I know I was nine, because I am ten years older than my little brother and sister.

Anyway, so I walk through the house and open the door to my parents room and what to my wondering eyes should appear? Yeah, you guessed it. Nothing pretty. All I remember was my mom on top of my step father and naked asses. Oh, and the shocked look on both of their faces. I don’t know what the fuck they were shocked about. I was the one expecting to watch the Rifleman only to end up trying to burn my eyes out with Clorox (not really, but you get my drift). Of course I immediately shut the door and walk stiff leggedly back into the area of the house where my sisters were. And I’m telling you it most have registered all over my face, because they was asking me “what happened, One man.” “What’s wrong.”

Of course I didn’t answer them. I mean, how do you tell your sisters they you just saw your parents having sexual relations. Plus, no one had explained to me the facts of life and I had no idea what the fuck I had walked in on. I just know that it was wrong for me to see and that I was extremely embarrassed.

Now, if that wasn’t bad enough, we end up having a family meeting that night. Now, keep in mind I just want to block the shit out. Have that whole repressed memory thing going on, that you read so much about. But uh, no. My step-father and his overly religious ass, had to give up this talk about Noah and how one of his sons had stumbled upon the drunken Noah naked. And how God had cursed Noah’s son for peering upon his fathers naked body. I kid you not. Can you believe that shit? So not only was I already traumatized by the events of the day, not to mention having to miss the Rifleman, but now I had to worry about God smiting my ass for seeing my step-father naked. Lucky for me that I never considered the bastard as much of a father figure, so I rationalized that I was alright. Oh, and did I mention that this little talk just resulted in my sisters prodding me even more to find out what I had seen. Uh, take a guess bitches. I can’t say it. If I say it, my tongue with turn to maggots and I will be struck dumb right on the spot.
Anyway, this is the first time in my whole life that I have ever recanted that story and I choose to share it with my blog family. Now don’t you feel special?

So, my question to you. Have any of you good people every walked in on your parents having sex? I know I ain’t the only one. I’m probably just the only one who didn’t know what the shit was called at the time I was witnessing it. Oh, and probably the only one who was made to feel like I was going to go to hell for my innocent transgression.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Okay, Freedom. Go ahead and break down the details about Noah and his son seeing him naked. You know you wanna.

I Love My Mommy!

2008-10-09T08:19:00.002-05:00

Here she is; the love of my life. Yeap, this is Mother One Wo-Man. Is she sweet? Yeah, I know you can’t tell by a picture, but my mom is the nicest woman you ever want to meet; so kind hearted and gentle. She is both my heart and my heartache. But she’s that’s kind of heartache that lets you know that you are alive.

I am so much like my mom, it is a shame. We are both gentle in nature, and very non-confrontational. My mom just takes it to the next level. You know, opening her door up to the world. It is very uncommon to hear my mom speak an unkind word about anyone. When I grew up I never heard speak ill about anyone and I think it played a big role in who I am today. Well, her and my grandmother, of course.

Yesterday was my mom’s birthday, and I spent fifteen hours of the day with her. I started off headed to the Ihop, over in her area, to get her a Belgium Waffle breakfast, but the Ihop had gone out of business, so I had to go the ghetto route of a Mickey D’s Chicken biscuit and coffee. LOL. I know, but it was the only place that was close and open in the area at six forty-five in the morning. I made it to my mom’s house at 7 and was the first to wish her a Happy Birthday.
It was cool listening as everyone called to wish her a happy birthday. Even my niece’s new beau, who I don’t think she has been dating for a year, called to wish my mom a happy birthday. Which was hella nice. And get this, not only did he call to wish her a happy birthday, but he also bought her a gift of a large print bible. Wasn’t that nice? Almost made me feel bad about charging him up for coming into the house without knocking. Almost. As a matter of fact, I made up a joke about it. Wanna hear it? Here it goes….

Knock, knock.
Whose there?
Police.
Police who?
Police knock before entering. Yo ass don’t live here!

He apologized, so it was all good.

Oh, and guess what. My little brother got up early, put on a nice pair of slacks with shirt and tie, and went out on a job interview. Can you believe that shit? I told my mom that most be his birthday gift to her. LOL And get this. Not an unwanted visitor in sight. I didn't have to turn on the thug alert syster or take my gun out of the trunk of my car or anything.

Then my little sister went to get her a birthday cake, with my nephew. Tell me why it read; Happy Birthday, Grandma. What the hell. This ain’t about Manny. How did it go from happy birthday mom to happy birthday grandma? They made that crap up.

Of course, then we went out to dinner. She picked Chilli’s but whatever. It was her day. I gotta say, my little brother's woman and her kids tried to tag alone, but back out when they got the feeling that they were not welcome. Which they were not. I don't know them. I ended up spending a hundred buck on my mom, along with my little brother, sister and nephew, and it was well worth the price. We had a wonderful time! Anything that adds a smile to my mom's face is priceless to me.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace

Oh, and it is called Toilet Paper Foam, not Liquid Toilet Paper. My bad.

I'm Fucking Ben Affleck - Uncensored Sub/High Definition

2008-10-07T11:39:00.001-05:00

Sarah Silverman Fucking Matt Damon

2008-10-07T11:34:00.001-05:00

Sarah Silverman is a nut. I wanted the unbleeping version, but could not find one. But this is just too funny.

Anyway, this is a Fair day for my family and tomorrow my mommy's birthday, so I'm sure I'll have a blog on that. Plus, are bidding for days off this week, so a lot is going on.

Still, until then, check out this video. It is truly funny.

Busted

2008-10-05T19:26:00.003-05:00

Well they finally got him. Yep, The 61-year-old Hall of Fame football star was convicted of kidnapping, armed robbery and 10 other charges for gathering five men a year ago and storming a room at a hotel-casino to seize Simpson sports mementos — including game balls, plaques and photos — from two collectors. Prosecutors said two of the men with him were armed; one testified Simpson had asked him to bring a gun.

What a dumb-dumb, chicken little. Why is it that Simpson could not just sit his dumb ass down and be happy to be free? And it wouldn’t have hurt if he had found some homely, motherly type, sister to settle down with. I mean, hadn’t he already lost enough? His reputation, his kids, his Heisman trophy, his little movie career as an “B” list actor. Seriously. How hard is it to sit your ass down? I’m guessing pretty hard when you are as narcissistic as Mr. Simpson. Oh, no, he had to get right back to the white women, who were too young for his ass, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my best friends date white women. Of course they are white men, but that’s besides the point. Anyway, and if that wasn’t enough, he let someone talk his ass into believing that it would be a good idea to be associated with a book called, “If I Did It.” Negro, is you crazy?

So, of course they found his dumb ass guilty, of twelve very serious charges, on this past Friday. How could they not? After all, they set the trap and he allowed his self to step into it. They might as well just chop off his toes and change his name to Toby right now. He ain’t free. As a matter of fact, because of the serious nature of his crimes O.J. was denied bail. So, they currently have Mr. Simpson isolated from all the other prisoner, for his own safety, where he is currently working on his next book; If I Hadn’t Done It (While awaiting appeal).

To be honest with you, I gotta say that I think O.J. is getting what he deserves. I mean, I’m betting somewhere in the world, Johnny Cochran’s remains are shouting; “What the fuck is wrong with you man!” If you are not smart enough to realize that 13 years later, you are still being heavily scrutinized for the murder of your ex-wife and you are still doing dumb shit; then your ass needs to go to jail. That being said, I can’t wonder just how fair of a trial he received. One of the complaints they are setting forth in his appeal is that there were no black folks on the Jury. Yeah, like that’s new. The second thing is that they believe that the Jury was still bias for the thirteen year old murder, that they felt Mr. Simpson got away with. And I gotta say, I agree with ‘em on that count. Ya’ll know that just about everyone thought this was their chance to finally get O.J.

Oh, well…..

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

It's a Family Affair

2008-10-01T22:30:00.001-05:00

So, I have decided that I am going to do everything in my power to spend one of my two days off with my family. And trust me, it ain’t easy. Every time I go over there it more and more drama. Today is no different, even though there was not a crack head insight.

When I first get there I see a little parcel sitting outside of the door, so I pick it up and take it into my mom. She ask me to open, so I take it into the kitchen to cut loose the tape. So, I open the box and unwraps the little item inside. You’ll never guess what was inside. Go ahead. Guess.
You give up? Good, because you never would have guessed.

Inside of the box was this little bottle dispenser of something that was called “liquid toilet paper”. That right, you heard me correctly. LIQUID TOLIET PAPER! What the hell? I take the little item back to my mom, hand it over to her with an, “Ewww”. She informs me that it was a free sample that some company sent to her. Yeah, okay. Still……Ewwww.

Later, my sister invites me to go to my little nephew’s PTA meeting. How cool was that. I’ve never been to a PTA meeting. Not many guys at a PTA meeting. I found that to be interesting. After that my sister goes shopping for the Laptop we want to get my mom for her birthday, next week. She asked me for my debt card and I denied her. She was a little offended and asked me if I trusted her. I told her I didn’t, nor would I trust anyone with my debt card. That is always a bad idea.

My little brother is missing in action all day. My mom told me he was out job hunt, but I believed that like I believe that bees are making honey in my ass channel. Anyway, I am laying in the room with my mom, watching Project Runway when my sister calls to take our dinner order. Someone drives into the yard, not long after. I think it is my little sister, but it turns out to be my little brother. He is outside talking to someone, but I can’t tell who. But I find out when my sister gets back with the food.

“Where you brother at,” I ask.
“He out there talking to my 23 year old, unemployed, criminal boyfriend’s mom.”
“Oh. Why he talking to her?”
“Because they are dating now.”
“What? How old is she?”
“She is 43.”
“Oh. Still, mom can’t tell him who he can and can not date.”
“She’s married. That is why mom threatened to put him out.”

Drama, people Nothing but drama. My brother is dating a married woman, who lives down the street, who is the mother of his friend and his sister’s girlfriend. Now I am wondering if this is the chick he had in his room the night I brought little Leroy over, but I don’t bother to ask the question.

What the fuck is going on with my family, people! What the fuck is going on? So now, besides everything else, I have to worry about some crazy husband coming over to do harm to my brother when he finds out about this affair. It is a serious concern, folks, when you consider that the majority of the men on my mom’s side of the family died violent deaths, before the age of forty.

Uncle one: Shot and killed on Thanksgiving day by the father of the girl he was dating at the time.

Uncle two: Stabbed to death by a jealous cousin, while he sleep.

Uncle three: Taken by a violent illness.

Uncle four: A pre-op transsexual, prostitute. Yeah, he, well she actually killed a prostitute for trying to take over her corner and since he is technically a she now, I guess he doesn’t count anyway. But all the other ones hold true.

I don’t know what I would do if somebody hurt my little brother just because some horny bitch can’t stay true to the commitment she made to her spouse. I don’t know what she sees in my brother anyway. Sure he is funny, handsome and charming, but he is also, lazy, unemployed and living at home with his mother. He husband must really be a loser.

Anyway, my family drives me crazy. If it ain’t one thing it’s another with them. I promise you, if it wasn’t for my mom and my nephew, I would have disassociated myself from them a long time ago. I love them to death, but the drama is either gonna kill me or cause me my job.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Little Known Fact

2008-09-30T05:57:00.002-05:00

I rushed home early for this one, folks. That’s right, I have the scoop of all scoops and I think I might have even beat MediaTakeOut to the punch on this bad boy. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I have breaking story on how the one and only Prince came up with the Song Purple rain. That’s right, bitches, I have the exclusive details behind it all. So, hold on to your hats, because here it goes.

Everyone remembers the song, Purple Rain, right? If you didn’t grow up with it, I’m sure you’ve heard it in one capacity or another. If not, well, here’s a few choice stances from that puppy:

I never meant 2 cause u any sorrowI never meant 2 cause u any painI only wanted 2 one time see u laughingI only wanted 2 see u laughing in the purple rainPurple rain purple rainPurple rain purple rainPurple rain purple rainI only wanted 2 see u bathing in the purple rain.

Get it? Huh? Do you get it? The purple rain is Prince’s Urine. That’s right, he was peeing on this anonymous chick (we think it might have been Vanity), but don’t quote me on that.

Anyway, back in the day, Prince was on this all Grape diet. So, for about a month all he ate was grapes. That’s how he managed to keep his girlish figure. Well, by some freak of nature, this all grape diet turned the Prince of Pop’s piss purple. Sadly, the man didn’t notice this, because he pees sitting down. Well, that, and the fact that he had that toilet sanitizer, which turns the water blue. So, as you can see, there was no way for him to know that he had this anomaly going on with his body, until this one faithful day. Yep, you guessed it. He was taking a piss on his girl, once again we think it was Vanity, and the spray comes out Purple.

The funny thing is that it wasn’t even Prince that noticed it. Well, not at first. You see, since it was hard for him to pee standing up, he had his eyes closed in concentration. It wasn’t until he heard, Vanity, or whatever the chick’s name, laugh and say; “You pissing purple rain on me, baby.” So, Prince is there, junk in hand, looking at this semi-nude woman, laughing as she lay sprawled in the puddle of purple urine and he comes up with this song. Yep, you guessed it. Purple Rain. The rest is history. Who knew it would be come a big hit in the eighties?

Anyway, you heard it here first.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

So, was that a believable story? Purple Rain was playing on the radio, as I pulled into my driveway, and I concocted this little story. Anyway, I’m thinking of turning this blog into a haven for made up gossip lies, on the rich and famous. What do you think?

It's Your Attitude

2008-09-29T16:15:00.003-05:00

Remember the Sermon on the Mount and how Jesus gave his diciples the beatitude? No? Well, I do. As I continue to read the Secret Life of Bees, I just got to a part that put two things in my head. One I will wait to share, because it is very much a part of the book and I am ahead in our reading. The other I think I can talk about in general.

I remember not really getting the story of the Sermon on the Mount but enjoying reading the Beatitudes; for some reason they touched me. I use to always wonder which of the eight categories I fell into. So, as I lay here, well pass my bedtime, I can not get the idea of the Beatitudes out of my head; so I thought it might do me good to do a post on them. So, without further ado:

THE EIGHT BEATITUDES OF JESUS
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God. Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
Gospel of St. Matthew 5:3-10

As I said, when I was young I use to wonder which of these categories best fit me. Now that I am older, I think I fit into each of the categories, except for maybe the last one. To this day, I still don’t think I fully grasp the concept of the Beatitudes, but I still find them so wonderful to read, in all their simplicity. So, which one are you?

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Just a though I need to get off my mind, so I can forget about the book and get some rest before bed. You don’t have to participate. Oh, and could someone please tell Ieshia, I have no idea how to email her so I can reach her allusive new site. Tell her not to make me do a damn post on her ass!

One At a Time

2008-09-28T12:36:00.002-05:00

Last night was an interesting night. What to hear about it? Here we go.

The day before yesterday Sgt. Lupe ran across some dumb ass teens, out past the City's curfew. She was foolish enough to allow them to go home on their own, with just a warning. A little later on, that same day, she spots the same three juvies attempting to break into a freaking church, or so she claims. They spot her and take off running, well two did, the other one was too scared to run and she was able to put him in custody. Knowing that I have zero tolerance on these little bastards and their parents, she calls me out to the scene to see if I want to aid him to my list of kids I conduct random bed checks on. I get out there and surprise, surprise. It is one my little habitual curfew violators. We take his dumb ass home, but not before going over to the house of one of the Little angles who ran and gripe out his mom for not know where the hell her 15 year old son is at 3 o’clock in the morning.

Then we take little Leroy (that what we’ll call him) back home to his mom’s house, where he is issued a ticket for the curfew violation. A ticket that his mom can’t afford. Now, since I have already told little Leroy what an embarrassment he is to me, seeing as he looks like me, and how if he was my blood I’d cluck him upside the head with my flashlight; I also feel obligated to let him know that I don't think he is a bad kid but is making some bad decisions. So, this leads him to ask me what he is suppose to do when he mom kicks him out of the house and then the reports him as a runaway.

Gentle Giant that I am, I give and my business card and write my cell phone number on the back. Before handing it over to him I let him know that if he and his little buddy misuse my number, for any reason, I’d come knocking on his door and that there will be hell to pay.
Anyway, fast forward to last night. Guess who called me, before I went into work. Yep, little Leroy. He is at odds with him mom and don’t know what to do. So, I call work and tell them that I am going to be a little late, because I have to make a detour and go pick his ass up. I have decided, with his mom’s permission, to bring little Leroy to work with me so we can have a heart to heart talk and maybe I can be that beacon that leads his ass down the right path. Maybe.

I took him to the station, gave him comic books to read, while I did my work. He was talked to by different sergeants, of different races and various troops and made to stand before our detail. Sgt. Latin even gave the kid tickets to a hockey game (Little Leroy use to play hockey). I mean to tell you if this young man was not known by the police officers on deep nights before, you better believe his ass is now. He will be dumb as fuck to do anything illegal.

Anyway, after our 12 o’clock detail lets out I take him to the crack house….err, sorry, over my mom’s house, because she needed to borrow money and it was part of my route for that day. I introduced him to my slacker, little brother, who was having sex for some reason. Do you know that I didn’t think my little brother had sex? Seriously, I thought he was that damn lazy, but he damn sho’ did have some female all up in his bedroom. Still, he was nice enough to come out of his room and spit some wisdom on the kid. Little Leroy, like most, felt an instant connect with my little brother. He might be a lackadaisical son of a gun, but he can charm the pants off of you. (Don’t worry, my mom lives far enough away that I am not worried about the kid remember how to get back to her joint).

En route to my mom’s place, I tell him a little about my situation growing up. I let him know that life for me ain’t been no crystal staircase. So, by the time we leave from my mom’s house he is willing to open up and tell me about how his dad died, last year, his parents separation, his mom near death experience, how his own grandmother stole his dad’s insurance policy; leaving him and his mom with nothing. The works. The boy has had it hard, and he is acting up as a result. But everyone has their sob stories and I let him know that that is no excuse for him to act the way he does and never an excuse to buck up to his little, frail mom. This kid, is twice the size of mom, folks.

Then I take him to my Ihop, where he gets to meet the wait staff there. The people at Ihop love me, folks. Their world lights up when I come into the door. I don’t care how busy it is, they make time to cluster around my booth and spend a little time with One Man. Talk about your ego boost, and it impressed the hell out of little Leroy who said, “Wow, everybody knows you here.” Of course, that was not the purpose of taking him to Ihop. You see, not only was little Leroy wearing the same thing that he had on the day before, but I had also learned, en route to station, that he hadn’t eaten all day. He swore to me, up and down, that he wasn’t hungry, but we all know that was a lie. What 15 year old, grown boy, isn’t hungry. C’mon now.

Anyway, he ordered a big ass bacon, egg and cheese burger and he got to listen to my group of misfits talk about the things they did, which lead them to were they are in life right now. Plus, they song my praises, which is always good.

After we finished at Ihop I was taking little Leroy home, when all hell broke lose at one of our clubs in South Dallas. It came out as a shooting, but ended up being just a big ass free for all and you know your boy One Man has to be a part of the fray. These men and women at these clubs know I don’t play with them. So, we go there and help break up that mess and then, once again, make a bee line to his house. Well, I’ll be damn if I don’t see another teenager walking down the street, just as calm as you please. I make him get in my car, take him home and as I am writing his ass a citation, this Hispanic male comes stumble pass me. He has had the hell beat out of him, to the point that I have to call an ambulance. Well, sure enough, this unfolds into some drama, that I won’t get into, but once we get it all situated, I take little Leroy home.

It is now past three and we can’t get little Leroy’s mom to wake up, to save our lives. So, we call and leave a message on the machine, that I am going to keep him for the rest of the morning, which I do. Mr. Leroy had one hell of an experience with me last night, because I am what you call a shit magnet. We got flagged down an aggravated assault, he got to see both nice and mean Sgt. One Man, I taught him how to check a person on our MDC. And he got to partake in an arrest of this stupid ass drunk, who broke out his girl's front glass window. It was one hell of a night, but I am hoping that he got something out of the experience. After all, the Dallas Police Department rained down a lot of love and care on that little man.

Yeah, I think I might have done a little too much, invested a little too much time, but I think he appreciated it; I know his mom did. The poor lady is at her wit’s end. Only time will tell if I, with the help of my fellow boys and girls and blue, were able to make a difference in this young man’s life. Your boy, One Man, trying to save the world one thug at a time. LOL

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

(Plus, I am under the assumption that if I invest a certain amount of time in his ass, I become authorized to hit him when he steps out of line.)

Miss Honey

2008-09-27T11:53:00.001-05:00

I have no idea why I found this clip to be both funny and disturbing at the same time, but I did......No problem with the brother in drag, with the ice cream swirl on his head, but the guys in the back...they are killing me. Seriously, they are dancing their asses off.

Enjoy the laugh and have a great weekend.

Like a Crack House

2008-09-25T06:34:00.002-05:00

My mom’s house is becoming more and more like a crack house. Let me explain. Everytime I go over to my mom’s house there is some new negro laying up in my mom’s house. I don’t even get it. Yesterday, we I went over, the first thing I do I go say hi to my mom and see if she is okay. Then I ask where my nephew is (in school, where he belongs). My niece is outside, talking to somebody and my little brother has just driven up. I go into the family room, to hopefully look at some television, but there is somebody already in there, sleep/looking at television.

My first thought is, why is my nephew Ant over here? I know he still living with my mom ‘nem, but only in theory. The reality is, he is normally somewhere shacking up with his fianicie. But there he is, slumped in the big chair, sleep, 48 hours on televison (or whatever the name of that reality cop show is). So I go back into my mom room and hang out with her. She starts gripping to me about how some inspector came over and turned off theiir water heater and they have no more hot water. What the fuck? Yeah, she called the inspector for some reason and he found that they were involation and he had to turn off their water heater. She was so mad at the man, but I told her that she couldn’t be mad at the man for doing his job.

Anyway, so I’m sitting right there and my mom starts calling for my brother and calling for some guy name T.J. Who the fuck is T.J. Anyway, after a minute, this T.J person comes and to see what my mom wants and guess what…It’s the person I thought was my nephew. LOL. Okay, I can explain this, because I know you are wondering how I don’t know my own nephew when I see him.

Okay, my nephew Ant is about 6 foot, two-forty and blue black in color. We are talking so black that you can’t tell where his skin ends and his hair begins. So, good look making out his features, if your are not right up on him and the light is poor. Well, this T.J. guy has the exact same build and complextion. Who know.

I ask my mom who the hell he is and she says , “Oh, that’s T.J. He lives down the street.”

“Okay, why is it that every time I come over here, yall got some new stranger laying all up in your house.”

“He’s not a stranger. He lives up the street and friend with Stace (my Niece) and Duce (my brother). He went to school with them or something.”

My mom drives me crazy. I lived in this house and I know everyone that both my neices and brother and sisters hung out with growing up. This T.J. is not one of those people and even if he is, why is his ass laying up in your house at two something in the afternoon? We know this much about him. He is either 26 or 29...either way why is his ass not in college, work or at his own damn home. I don’t get it and my mom still doesn’t answer my question, so I ask it again. “Why is it that every time I come over here there is some new, random guy up in your house.”

Her answer: “He’s always over here.”

Well, he’s not always over here, but this is the first time I’ve seen ass over here. What kind of communal, group house for the lazy is being run over here. It’s not like my mom has anything. Hell, they are living just above the knee sockets of poverty. It’s not like she is always whipping up these outstanding meals. I just don’t see what the attraction is, except for the fact that you see other grown ass people in and out of there, not working. Not unlike a fucking crack house.
And yall all know by now that I worry. I get to see man’s inhumanity to man on a daily basis. I know how crazy people are and what they will do and I hate that my mom allows herself to be put into a situation where someone can do harm to her. You are over weight, paralyzed on one side of your body and virtually immobile. Negroes are crazy, I don’t want them in the house with you! Plus, I don’t like all these random dudes hanging around my nephew. I don’t know them and I think everyone is a potential pedophile. I’m not trusting a single motherfucker. Does it really take something drastic to happen for them to get the message? Well, no….we know that’s not the answer because about a year and a half ago some little punks robbed my sister and cousin in the driveway of my mom’s house. (I WAS LIVID!)

But what’s a man to do? I can’t tell my mom who she can and can not have in her house. I can’t tell my little sister how to raise her son. I can’t tell my little brother to get off his ass and get a job. Well, actually, I CAN and DO do all of those things, but it’s like talking to a brick wall, a cactus and a deaf pussy cat. They ain’t listen.

AGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Drives me crazy! Fucking, none crack smoking, crack-heads. How pathetic is that shit?

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Evolution, In Reverse

2008-09-20T21:55:00.004-05:00

I use to think about this when I was younger. More like when I was in my teens and the word dawg started working it’s way into the black man’s vernacular. I actually remember when someone first called me “dawg”. I was at church and a so-called friend of mine brought this little thug he knew to church. The kid addresses me as dawg, but I hadn’t understood what he’d said, because I had never been addressed in this manner before. So, I guess a look came over my face that lead him to believe that I was offended by the word. He actually called himself getting mad at me, because he mistook my look of perplexity for one of being offended. I still just looked at him like he was an idiot.

Anyway, right before started calling each other dawg, we were calling each other cousin. Some of you might remember this. “What’s up, cousin? “ How you doing, cuz?’ Before this, and probably for the longest about of time, it was brother. Remember the good ole days when we use to call each other brothers? “Hey, brother.” What you been up to, bro?”

Now we are at, nigger or niggah. What the hell! How did we come to this degeneration of a name? I’ve always thought this degeneration of how we referred to one another played hand and hand with the violence acts we commit around one another. Let face it, as we changed the way we referred to each other along came a disconnect.

Keep in mind that this post hit me like thirty minutes before I have to get my ass ready for work, so I am going to try to break this down to you right quick. Let’s start with brother. What is a brother? When you hear the word brother what thoughts does the word invoke? Kinship? Love? Family? Who could be closer to you then your brother? Then we went to cousin. See the beginning of the disconnect? A cousin is still kin, family, but not a close as a brother. Hum, it might be a little easier for me to hurt my cousin then it would be to hurt my brother; after all, we ain’t that close. Then, some how when I wasn’t looking we went to dawg (dog). It’s a little easier to kick a dog, huh? After all, it is just an animal. Sure dogs are loyal, supposedly man’s best friend, but in the end it is till an animal. Fuck that beast! I’ll kick it, beat it, kill it, if I have to. Fuck you, Dawg! And now, Nigger. People have been hunting, beating, and lynching niggers for years. Hell, back in the day a nigger were labeled as nothing more than property, considered less than an animal.

Not being hip, or cool, I never used any of these terms growing up. I preferred to call people by their names. But, this kind of makes you wonder, right? Is this why there is so much black on black crime; why our youth of today don’t seem to value the life of the one that looks like them? Sure, I know that white people commit violent acts against each other everyday. But, this site isn‘t about them. It is about us.

You know Shakespeare once asked a question, “what’s in a name?” He even went as far as to counter with, “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Fuck that! Sure that shit sounds all poetic and romantic, but I say that there is a power in a name. People put a great deal of thought in what they name their children for that very reason (albeit, some of yall get that shit wrong too).

Hell, would you want a dozen roses from me if they were called “Fuck you bubs”?

Anyway, just a little food for thought. Now I got to get my ass ready for work, so no time to proof this bad boy. Love you all, my brothers and sisters of every race and nationality.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Yeah, I realize the irony of this post and the name of my blog. Get over it! The name stays!

John McCain-Our Senile Candidate

2008-09-19T20:05:00.001-05:00

Out saw this on my boy Jack's blog and decided to steal it and pass it on.

I'm One Man and I approve this message.

Peace.

Don't Be Claiming Me!

2008-09-19T15:05:00.001-05:00

It is very interesting, being a cop. People either love you are they hate you. More often then not they hate you. People are so funny, they honestly believe that just because you approach them and are wearing that big, blue uniform, that you are harassing them. Whatever.

Anyway, I have been talking to one of my friend, who works in the Internal Affairs department. She hooked me up with the Christian store that sales teaching items for children. I went there today to buy poster that will help Manny learn his colors, shapes, numbers and currency. Anyway, she works an extra job at some Charter school and keeps telling me that she speaks to my cousin, who drives a school bus. I don’t have a cousin who drives a school bus. She assures me that I do, but whatever. I know my relatives. She even goes as far as to get his name for me today.

“I spoke to your cousin,” she says. “He says his name is Tony.”

“I don’t have a cousin name Tony.”

“Sure you do. He is tall and brown skinned.”

“Uh, no, I don’t. I know all my male cousins and known of them drive a bus for a living.”

“He says he just spoke to you yesterday.”

“I didn’t speak to anybody yesterday. I don’t answer my home phone, any more, and I left my cell phone over my mom’s house the other day.”

“Well, he says he’s your cousin.”

How funny is this conversation. How are you going to argue with me about the existence of a cousin. I might be getting senile, but I know all of the crazy ass bastards in my family. How could I not. We spend every holiday together and up until recently we had been having a monthly Family Game Night (We really need to start that back up).

Anyway, I know it’s a long and dumb story, but this happens a lot. Family members that I rarely speak or people from my past are always trying to claim my ass, in order to get out of trouble.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

How About a Book Club?

2008-09-18T11:56:00.001-05:00

Okay, if you’ve read the post before this one then you know that I took my mom to see, The Family That Preys, yesterday. While we waited for the movie to start, we watched the previews of movies to come. One of the movies to come. One that caught my attention was the new movie starring Queen Latifia, Alisha Keyes and Dakota Fanning. The Secret Life of Bees. My ears immediately perked up when they said that this movie was based on a book and I remember whispering to my mom; “Imma go get that book tomorrow.”

So, here it is tomorrow and what did I do. Well, first up I woke up from a horribly realistic dream, where I murdered a family bully. That was not cool. I literally woke up in tears. Once I got over that, I went and got a hair cut. Yes, I am look very cute today and then went to Border’s Books to see if I could find my book. The Secrete Life of Bees, by Sue Monk Kidd; only fourteen bucks. It is lying right here beside me.

Now, before I open up a page and begin to read it I have to ask….Anybody out there willing to join me in reading this book? I know, I ain’t Oprah, but I have been trying to get other bloggers to start a blog book club. So, since I can’t get anyone else to do it, I figured I’d take a shot at it. So, what do you say? Any takers? I know you good people read, because you are dedicated readers to the world of BLOGS.

I’ve never done the book club thing before, although I really do enjoy reading. That being said, I am not one of those read a book in a day kind of people. I like to make a good book linger on, like good sex. I like to make it last until I can stands it no more. So, I read in stages, during breaks, and such. If I had the money, I’d have wall to wall books in my house, because I love the written word so much. If I can just get a handful of you to join me in enjoying these written words, and maybe discussing them later, I’ll be one happy camper.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

The Family that Plays

2008-09-18T07:11:00.001-05:00

Today, I paid my mom a surprise visit and took her to see The Family that Preys. I got to say, Tyler Perry did it again. I must admit that I didn’t think that the movie was going to be any good, but one of my female co-workers said it was the bomb. It was funny and sad all at once. I thought it was going to be contrived, but nope; Mr. Tyler did his thing, although I do believe that it could have did without his presence. No offense to him.

I gotta tell you, the funny thing about surprising my mom as apposed to letting her know in advanced, is the fact that we got to the movies on time. How funny is it that I can let her know a day, even a week, a head of time and she will never be ready on time. Surprise her and we are right on schedule. Even she noticed and commented on it while we were en route to the movies. We got there in time to see all of the previews, and that never happens. She saw lots of movies that she wanted to see next, included Bernie Mac’s last movie; Soul Men. I didn’t think it looked any good and I can’t just go to see a movie in memory of a late actor.

After the movies my mom wanted me to take her to El Chico’s to get her something for dinner. Being the loving big brother that I am, I called both my brother and sister to see if they wanted anything to eat. Of course they did. So, I ended up buying food for all for of us and Manny, of course. Then I ended up spending the entire day with them. I love my little Manny to death, but I tell you, he will wear a brother out. I mean, he went hour upon hour without shutting up. I swear the boy has Energizer batteries shoved up his rear end. I told him on five different occasions that I was going to start beating him with a stick. I have no idea why he never takes me seriously.

He is such a happy baby boy. So happy in fact that I accused his mommy of getting him drunk. The boy is a nut bag, but he cracks me up. If laughter adds years to your life, he will live to be like a thousand and I will live to be a hundred and ten. I gave him his bath, put him on his pj’s, and read him two books before receiving a big hug around the neck and a kiss on the cheek. I told him I love him and to learn a lot at school. He told me no and said he loved me too. He is such a little bastard. I wish he did ever have to grow up.

Anyway, go see the Family that Prey’s. It will be well worth the money. Over here, it just cost five dollars of two adult tickets. HA! Don’t hate.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Not Down Memory Lane

2008-09-16T23:31:00.003-05:00

More moments for Alzheimer Island. You know your mind is slowly deteriorating when you put your underwear on backwards. That’s right folks, there was not one, but two days that your boy put on his boxer shorts, backwards, and went to work. The sad part was that I didn’t even realize they were on backward until I went to take a leak and there was no hole to pull Mr. Winky through. Where was the damn hole? I’ll tell you were it was; behind me. I will say that Mr. Winky was nice in safe. No fear of him popping out that day. LOL

Moment number two. Who know you are losing it when you got to the fast food place. Order your meal, pay for it and leave. That’s right people, I was half way home before I realized something was missing. Forgot my food. When I got back I could see that they had been looking for my dumb ass. It was quit funny, and just a little bit disturbing.

Had a doctor’s appointment on a Wednesday. New it was on a Wednesday. Driving to the appointment, while talking to my big sister and telling her that I am on my way to a doctor’s appointment. Get to the doctor’s and check in at the front desk, five minutes early I might add.

“Good Morning, ma’am. My name is One Man and I have an appointment to see Dr. Who at 11am.”

Receptionist, after checking her files, “I’m sorry Mr. One Man, I don’t have a record you’re supposing to be here today.”

“Well, I have my appointment card showing that I am suppose to be here today and plus, someone from your office called me on Monday with a reminder.”

“Okay, Mr. One Man, can you have a seat while I check our records.”

So, I have a seat and go through my wallet in search of my little note recording my appointment date and time and find it, Wednesday @ 11am. My ass ain’t crazy, damn it. I know when my damn appointment was.

So, the receptionist comes back to the window and says, “Mr. One Man, you appointment isn’t until Wednesday.”

Puzzled look on my face. “Isn’t today Wednesday?”

“No, sir. Today is Tuesday.”

‘Nuff said.

I think I’m going to cry.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

The Way we Be (Repost)

2008-09-16T19:46:00.001-05:00

My very first post. Read it and weep. LOL. Seriously. Only thing missing is the Picture of Mr. Clinton. To be honest, I know nothing about how to manipulate the blogs on this damn thing.

[Photo]Okay, my first entry was going to be on the Ghetto Note Book, but that was all changed this morning when I went to get my hair cut. I stepped into the barbershop and to my surprise they were watching Larry King Live. That's right...Larry King Live. Keep in mind that this is a black owned and operated Barbershop in an all black neighborhood. A Barbershop that usually has its television set to BET and only BET. As it turned out they were watching Larry King's interview with formal President Bill Clinton. Apparently Mr. Clinton has a new book to promote, but mostly he was talking about his wife and her candidacy for president. At any rate, one of the head barbers walks into the shop late and sits down to talk to me about a business venture he had cooked up in this little mind. All of a sudden he becomes aware that Bill Clinton is on television and he proclaims loudly, "Hey, that's Bill Clinton! You know he was our first real black president!" Then he goes on to spout off all of the wonderful attributes that Bill Clinton embodies that makes him worthy of being dubbed the "first" black president. I'm sure you've all heard them: "He plays the sax, he smokes weed and he got head in the white house. How can he be anything but black?" Of course, true to form, all the other black folk in the shop began to voice their agreement, spitting all kinds of ludicrous B.S. So, being a loyal customer to this particular shop I feel comfortable enough to pose the following question to the barber who set this whole thing off."Why is it that we want to call Bill Clinton the first black president?"I asked. "And then, in the same breath go on to list all of his negative traits? That ain't cool. I don't want my blackness associated with that."All of a sudden the shop gets all quiet and I begin to fill like Two-Pac. You know...All Eyes on Me. And I'm pretty sure they are thinking, "look at this nigger." The barber in question looks at me and smiles and tries to say that everything he said wasn't negative. After all he did mention the fact that the man plays the sax and likes Jazz and how hard it is to play Jazz in the first place. What the hell? Look, I have nothing against Bill Clinton. As a matter of fact he did some pretty good stuff while he was in the White House. Even things that benefited the black community as a whole. So, why is it that when black folks speak about the man and want to give him his honorary membership into to black-dom, they never mention all of the positive things that the man did. Why is it that they only focus on the negative things? The things that lead to the man almost getting impeached during his second term in Office? Can someone please explain that crap to me? Is this truly how we see ourselves? Is this really how what we want to model ourselves after? Hell, don't we got enough people out there focusing only on our negative traits without glorifying them ourselves.

One man's opinion. Peace.

Blog-iversary

2008-09-15T19:59:00.003-05:00

I am so bad with dates. My very first blog anniversary has come and gone, because I suck at remembering dates. My very first blog was written on September the 6th, 2008. It was about Bill Clinton and how our people considered him the first black President. I only received three comments, two of which was from the same person, who I actually knew. The other was unsolicited. The unsolicited comment came from ‘yet another black guy‘. I was very disappointed, because I thought it was one hell of a post and nobody had read it. Still, it was a fun outlet for my creative thoughts, so I keep it up. Now I have a whole family, in the blog world. It’s like a whole other support system and I appreciate it greatly.

If you are listening, brother; thanks to you, YET ANOTHER BLACK GUY, for being my very first reader.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

I Get Mad

2008-09-15T14:01:00.001-05:00

Okay, I know I have been gone for awhile, but my world as been on a continuously, sucky path. This is the beginning of day three with me not allowing myself to lose my temper. As it turns out, people have been making me mad, a lot, lately. I’m talking, Yelling, mad. It is a very bad look on me and I’ve decided to over come it. What I am learning is that when I allow other people to make me lose my temper, I give them power over me, and that crap ain’t cool.

Let me give you a little back ground on my temper and when and why I decided that I would not hold in my anger. When I was in my twenties. Around twenty-three or four, I had a job as a Department Assistant at one of our Community Colleges. I worked the evening shift, and was the second in command when the Assistant Register was not at work (and her ass was hardly ever at work). We were having a concurrent registration going on, this particular work week. Just for those of you, who do not know, concurrent registration is when we allowed high school students to register for some college level courses. A wonderful program, I might add.

Well, on this one particular day, there was this Asian man, who was attempting to get his daughter registered for these concurrent classes. Well, they did not have all of the paper work needed to be allowed to register and I had to deny her application. Now, this would not have been that big of a deal, except for the fact that this was the last day of registration.

Well this bastard would not listen to reason, even when I showed him in the catalog why I had to deny his daughter enrollment. I promise you that I went back in forth with this guy for almost an hour, and he would not listen to reason. Plus, he refused to believe that I, a young, black man, had the final say in whether or not his daughter was going to get into college. Needless to say, he was pissing me off, but I was determined to maintain my professionalism. I let him know that I was finished with the conversation and went back to my desk (which, just so happened to be right there near the front counter).

Don’t you know that this bastard continued to badger me, from across the counter. I was hot, but determined not to lose my temper. So, in an attempt to hold back maintain my composure, I decided to practice something that’s I’d head about and seen on television. I decided to count to ten and take a series of calming, deep breaths. Well, as it turned out, I did that shit wrong and I began to hyperventilate. It was a very scary moment and I literally passed out and an ambulance out to the college (This is the moment of our friendship that my buddy Lou likes to tell people about the most.)

After I was revived, I made it up in my mind that I would never hold back my temper again. I decided that it was unhealty for me. So, if someone pushed my buttons to the point that I needed to unleash on them, I would do just that. And I must say, that as a police officer, my verbal anger has served me well. Just the intensity of it makes the public at large think my ass is crazy, and I believe it prevents me from having to lay hands on people, which is a good thing. I ain’t trying to fight nobody, if I can help it.

Anyway, over the past couple of weeks I have decided to rethink my ideas of not holding back my anger. I still believe that it’s okay to get mad, but I should be at a point in my life where I shouldn’t have to get to the degree of anger that I allow myself to yell. The reality is that as a Sergeant, I have a lot of power and that I shouldn’t let my troops make me so mad, to the point that it becomes a shouting match. As soon as I am shooting at them it means that I have lost control and I feel it puts us on an equal playing field. I can not let this happen, ever again.

As far as the public at large is concerned, I am not so sure how my holding back my temper will work. The reality is, that most of the time the show of anger on the street is just an act to gain control over a situation. Let’s face it, my normal speaking voice is not very intimidating at all and neither am I. So, when I have a crowd of twenty to fifty people and I am the first one out, it serves me well to be loud and boisterous. Believe me when I say that I have taken control over a many potentially violent situations by using my words only. It has served me well, on the Department, for ten years now. So, I am afraid that stifling that part of me, on the streets, might just get me seriously hurt. I guess only time will tell. Besides, I know that it is there, if I should need it.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Drives Me Crazy!

2008-09-07T23:30:00.001-05:00

I love my little brother and sister. They are both college graduates and twins to both. In November they will turn thirty years of age and they drive me crazy. That’s right….CRAZY! And let me tell you why.

As you know by now, this week I worked eleven days straight (not by choice). It was fine, I got to know a lot of good people, did some head sketches and made over-time money out the butt…and I found out recently that my over time rate is a little over fifty dollars an hour. Yeah, I know it ain’t much, but it’s like a good blow job to me. No offense. Anyway, since it had been a while since I had time for myself I took the next four days off. This is day one of those fours days and I went to see my mom, nephew and the rest. Just the thought of seeing my little nephew makes me smile (and I realize how sick yall are of hearing that, but it’s true. That little boy brings me joy.)

Okay, let me tell you how why twins drive me butt scratching crazy. Lets start with baby sis. I need for her to stop bringing every dead beat ass nigger she meets over to my mom’s house and around my nephew. I don’t know what it is with black women, my sister included, and sorry ass men. Example One: Manny’s dad. She meet his ass at the 7-11. He was a man hoe with children all over God’s creation. An unemployed man hoe to boot. I will say this much for the man…although he didn’t do much by way of financial responsibility he gave his time to my nephew. To the point that I was jealous whenever my little buddy was over his daddy’s house. However, I loved and appreciated the time that Manny’s dad spent with him, because I think that quality time is way more precious then money. I was said when he died in automobile accident before Manny reached the age of two years old. Then there were others that came and went in the wink of an eye but the one that comes to mind is the Murderer. She hates when I call him that, but that’s what he is. He killed a man last year. She met the Murderer at a chicken place. And my sister can believe the hype, but I don’t believe that shit was a accident and I need him away from my mom and my nephew. This bastard had a job, so I am told, but he didn’t have a place to live. I still don’t know why they were allowing this nigger, who she didn’t even know for a good month to be living all up in their house and sleeping all up in her bed. Now she’s messing with this twenty three year old, who just got released from prison for Aggravated Robbery and Robbery. Yeah, he spent five years of his young life in jail. He hung out with us when I took my family to the Univer-soul Circus. She swore up and down that she was not dating him, but I’m not stupid. Of course with his criminal history and the fact that he didn’t graduate high school, it is making it hard for him to get a job. I was criticized about giving him the third degree, but I don’t know this little mother fucker.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s a nice kid, very respectful and all, but I don’t know him. I want to give him the benefit of a doubt, but as far as I know he could be a child molester, rapist or still have those other criminal tendencies. I had to let him know that I am a cop (sergeant) and I am always packing. Evening show him the gun strapped to my hip. He needed to know that we were cool up and to the point that he fucked up. That’s when I become the Felon. I ain’t playing.
Then there is my little brother. Got arrested for position of Marijuana before he finished college, because his ass is hard headed. Came back home to help little sis take care of mom after my step-father passed away. Has yet to hold down a steady, full time job. I think the last one he had lasted all of six month (because he lied about his criminal history). Two of my guy friends gave me a hard time about calling him out on not having a job this past Fourth of July. They said he was embarrassed. Fuck that. They don’t know my little brother and his nonchalant ass. If he needed to be embarrassed about anything it would be the fact that he was twenty nine year old ass was asking his big brother for money, so he can go out, in the first place. That shit ain’t cool.

He and I had a talk, as I left the house and I laid it all out on the line for him. The fact that his ass was about to turn Thirty years old, without a job history to speak of. The fact that he can’t wait for the perfect job to just drop out his ass. The fact that I think he is still smoking the wacky-tobaccy. The fact that the older he gets the harder it is going to be to get a job. The fact that I’m not going to help raise his ass, since I don’t help support grown ass people (unless they carried me for nine months, no charge). I told him that he had too many people trying to help his ass get a job and he to busy playing at it. That shit is ridiculous and yall all know it. Then I brought my ass home.

I love my family. Lord knows I do. I try to get us to do things together as a group, even if it means me playing. But damn it, I need them to do right. I have made a hell of a lot of mistakes, believe you me, but in the end I support myself and have never and I mean never asked anyone for a helping hand. It’s just not in me. That being said, I am willing to lend a hand, but damn…I only have so many hands to give.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Eight Years To You All

2008-09-07T22:45:00.001-05:00

I say this commecial right after witnessing Serena win her tennis match. This little jokers is laughing his little heart out. It is such a pure and innocent laugh that I had to share it.

There is just something about seeing a baby smile or laugh that can feel your heart with joy, especially if it is a child of your own. There is just nothing that can compair to a happy baby.

There is a post to follow this one, but I had to send this out to you. If you are ever feeling sad, mad or just plain blah, come to this post or look it up on youtube. If it doesn't brighten your day I think you are just dead inside.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Seriously though. Look at the kid. He is literally over joyed by the simple pleasure of tearing newspaper. That just cracks me up.

Can I Get Some More Pee For My Cornflakes?

2008-09-05T14:30:00.004-05:00

Okay, remember when I was whining about my sucky work week last week? Well, since I was assigned to the Convention Center with our Displaced guest; here it is-day eight and still no day off and the work week went from bad to worst. Don’t get me wrong….working the convention center was cool. Over nine hours long, but I got to know our service men and women very well. Did you know that they volunteer their time in most instances (although they got paid for this particular incident). They are some of the most dedicated people I have ever met, and I was proud to work along side of them.

Still, my work day did not improve. As a matter of fact, the day before last my cousin calls to inform me that he has been accused of sexual assault, in New Hampshire. What the fuck? Yes, this is the cousin with the fat baby, ugly wife and long winded father in-law. “Why are you still cheating?” He said he wasn’t but what do you call it….you just told me you recently had sex with a woman who is accusing you of rape. Damn!

Then, sometime yesterday evening Roscoe pasted away. For those of you who do not know, Roscoe is my dog. When he didn’t come when I called, before going to work last night, I assumed he had just managed to get out the backyard. Since he is so dark and my light is out back there, I couldn’t see him when I looked around. So, I went to work thinking that his dumb ass had gotten out and how I was going to have to yell at him when I found him. After I had gotten to work I got to think, “what if he’s dead.” How bad would I feel if my dog was dead and I was thinking about yelling at him? But surely he wasn’t dead. He was just a little over six years old. That’s not that old for a dog. Anyway, I had to go home to look for some paper work for my lieutenant. I park my squad car in front of the house, half expecting Roscoe to be laying on the front porch, looking all guilty and shit. No. Roscoe. So, I grab my flash light and head around the rear of the house. My back yard is relatively big and I don’t see him immediately. When I do see him, he is laying near the side of the house. I know he is dead, but I yell his name about three times, hoping that he will get up, bat an ear, something; I don’t want my dog to be dead. But he is and there is nothing I could do about it. I have to grab my paper work and head back to work.

I kind of wanted to cry, but I didn’t. I don’t know why. I’m still trying to decipher if I am a bigger punk for wanting to cry or not crying. It doesn't help when you call Animal Control and they want you to not only "sack" your dog, but put him out at the curb. I didn't even want to look at him...not like that, but I supposed I was going to have to "sack" him, but I told the lady that I wasn't able to move him to the curb. Can you image me trying to pick up the corspe of a dog that weighted almost a hundred and fifty pounds when he was alive. Have you even heard of dead weight?

Anyway, I miss my doggie. He was a good dog and a loyal friend. I know I wasn’t always the best owner, but I loved my dog and I hate that he is gone. I miss the way he use to know my car and would run up to the gate in the hopes that I would say “hi”, instead of “shut up”. II miss the way he would want to constantly be around me, to the point of being under foot. I even miss his doggy gas, and Lord knows that crap was potent.

Yeah, can I get some more pee for my cornflakes, please. I can still taste the milk in these.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Out of Pocket

2008-09-01T14:59:00.002-05:00

Okay, folks, to round out my outstanding work week (yes, I am being sarcastic, my work week sucked jagged rocks), I will be at the convention center, monitoring the evacuee process. I was cool doing it, when I thought it was just going to be for two days. Surprise, surprise, it is for the who work week, including my days off. Sucks to be me, but I am trying to keep a positive out look. I mean, I could be one of the poor evacuees, right? So, I guess I won't complain.

Well, that's a lie. I am going to complain like a bitch, in my head, but on the outside I will be kind, greatful and pleasant.

I will return to my regular scheduled blogging and blog reading next week (God willing).

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

WHY?!?

2008-08-30T20:55:00.002-05:00

Let me just start off by saying that today’s post started off in a whole other direction. I had truly intended on posting about what a suck ass work week I’ve had those far. From one of my Field Training Officers, bitching out on me because he can’t take constructive criticism, to the fact that there is the idiot that hangs out at the clubs who has a hard on for my job. He had already filed a four page complaint on me and we were suppose to be trying to schedule mediation for in IAD. Of course that shit went out the door, because I had my troops arrest his dumb ass last night. How the fuck are you fifty years old and still acting and dressing like your dumb ass is in your twenties? Can someone please help me to understand?

However, I am digressing like a muthafuck, because that is not what this post is about. This post is about black folks and their funeral. I can not…I repeat, can not do another four hour funeral! How is a four hour funeral even remotely appropriate. Hell, even the castaways of the S.S. Minnow were only subject to a three hour tour, before the weather started getting rough and they wrecked out on Gilligan’s Island.

Things start off simple enough, pre-funeral I get messages from my telling me a generic location of where the funeral is going to be…”Hey, son, this is you mom. Jess’ funeral is going to be on Web Street. Love you. Bye.” Seriously, that is the extent of the message. How the hell those that tell me anything. Web street is a long ass, major street and you haven’t giving me the name of a church, cross street or nothing. C’mon now, mom. Can I get you to work with me? But that’s okay, because my cousin, who is the daughter of the man who passed away (no, that would not make him my uncle, it would make him the sperm donor of one of the many of my aunt‘s children), lives not to far from me so I already have it in my mind to just follow them to the funeral.

Then there was yesterday, right as I was walking out the door for work. I get another phone call from my mom….”Hey, son, this is your mom…(Yes, all her message start off like this to me. Like when addresses me as son I’m wondering who the heck is calling me)…do you have a pair of dress pants that Darwin can borrow for the funeral? Love you. Bye.” Hell no I don’t have a pair of dress pants that Darwin can wear for the funeral! My cousin Darwin is thirty eight years old, with a job. How the fuck do you live to be thirty years old and not have a suit, or at least a pair of dress pants, shirt and tie? I love you to death, cuz, but grow the fuck up! Plus, and I have told my mom this before, you can not call me and ask to borrow anything for anybody but yourself. These are grown ass people we are talking about here.

Fast forward to the funeral. I take my cousin, Jon-Jon (female), as son as we drive into the parking lot of the church she starts weeping. What the fuck? What you crying about?
Then we get in line, and I get stuck in line with the immediate family, because my mom and ’nem ain’t made it yet. I sit next to my cousin Janey’s boy friend and my Aynie (Aunt). I don’t get a program, because I the general set up for a funeral, what I need a program fo’? Boy was I wrong. First up. Praise dancer. Huh? Why is there a praise dancer at the funeral. They start the tap, I know the song and my mind immediately thinks, “I know she is not going to dance to this entire, long ass song.” She does and she wasn’t even good. I kid you not when I say that I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing or smiling, since I was so close to the front.

Now the choir was off the chain. They did an A, B and C selection (I told my sister later that I want that choir to sing at my funeral). Then their was all the other stuff that went down and two hours later I found myself asking my cousin’s man friend, to let me see the program. How long is this damn thing! (Yes, it was longer than this post). There was the sermon, five peopel joined church and by the time they got to the viewing of the dearly departed, I half expected to see people tossing their tithes and offerings into the casket.

I’ll end this post by just saying that the funeral started promptly at 12:30pm. It was a little after four by the time I left the church. Can you imaging if I had stayed to go to the burial. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Side bar: Little Manny came with me mom and ‘nem. He runs to me and wants to hand out, which you know causes my heart to just over flow that he loves me so much. Anyway, I ask him, “Manny, what did you learn at school this week.”
His answer? “Nothing.” He is such a little bastard.

I Am Such a Worry Wart

2008-08-26T13:38:00.001-05:00

I am such a worry wart. I come by it honestly. It is one of the many traits that I got from my mommy.

So, what am I worried about? My little nephew, of course. Yesterday he started real people school; the Head Start program. Well, as you know, school is not like day care, where you have designated people that are allowed to come and pick up your kids. So, now I am worried about my nephew being kidnapped. Isn’t that crazy? I didn’t really think about it much, day one, but here it is day two and it is on my mind.

If I worked a different shift, I could be the one to pick him up and make sure that he is safe at the end of the day, but I am sleep during those hours. Right now we are depending on my little brother to do the job efficiently. Still, I sent a message to my little sister, asking her if she has started teaching my little heart about stranger-danger. Hell, she allows so many negroes up into his life, I don’t want some random person going up to him at his school, picking him up and spiriting him off. And yall know that shit happens everyday.

Yeah, I know I am being a worry wart…Hell, why do you think I titled this post as such, but still…. So, does of you with school aged children…How did you teach your child about stranger-danger? Was it hard? I mean, Manny (and that is not his real name) does have a sense of self preservation. I have been with him on two occasions where he was weary of someone and made his way closer to me. I make note of the occasions, because Manny is such a friendly child and open to just about everybody. So, of course I key on anyone that causes him to react differently than he normally does, and give them my critical eye. Trust me, these guys (hard as they may think they are) do not want to fuck with the uncle of Manny. I’m not willing to lose my job over much, but Manny is one something that I will be making CNN’s headline news over.

So, any stranger-danger tips for a three year old child.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

I Love YouTube

2008-08-22T11:15:00.001-05:00

I love YouTube and I’ll tell you why…YouTube is like a trip down memory lane. Anytime you are feeling nostalgic you can hope on YouTube and find moments from your childhood. Right now I am watching Fantasia kick ass on American Idol and smiling from ear to ear. Earlier this morning I was driving around in my squad car and I just started singing Tina Turner’s Fool in Love and so I head to the station to see if I could find it on YouTube and there it was. Then of course I had to listen to Nutbush. Other people started coming around and somehow we got to talking about the Jackson and then we had to look up Say, Say, Say by Michael Jackson and Paul McCarty. Then we went to 3T, who I had never heard of (Tito Jackson’s kids). Then we did Reva Jackson’s Centipede and on to LaToya Jackson’s Hearts Don’t Lie. So funny.
We even did Janet Jackson’s What Have You Done for Me Lately, because I wanted them to see the guy in the video who had the sex change operation.

Sometime I get lost in Youtube, because you listen to one thing and then the related videos come up and you are like, damn, I wanna see that in a while. I can’t tell you how many classic Sesame Street and Electric Company episodes I have watched on this damn thing. And don’t even get me started on the Little Rascals or Little Audrey. The list goes on and on. Take for instance, as I type this I did not realize that Fantasia received an NAACP Image Award. Nor did I know that Barack was sitting in the front row as she song I Believe (I think he might ask her to sing this has inauguration ball. How fitting would that be?)

A friend of mind was telling me the other day that the people who bought YouTube was second guessing their purchase of the website because it was not making as much money as they had hoped. How sad that it all comes down to the all mighty dollar. Hell, you would think that just being able to make me happy would be priceless!

I’m gonna leave you with some of my favorite moments. What are yours?

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

It's fun to be silly.

The Electric Company - The Menu Song

2008-08-22T11:11:00.003-05:00

The Electric Company - N Apostrophe T

2008-08-22T11:11:00.001-05:00

2008-08-21T20:35:00.000-05:00

My friend Lou called me this afternoon to let me know that he and his wife were expecting their third child. Because of the background story behind the pregnancy I had to ask him if we were happy or sad about this news. Once he told me we were happy, but concerned I was free to express my joy for him and his wife…let call her Bush (not for the reason you nasty folks are thinking).

Bush is about the be thirty-nine years old and had went to the hospital because of things that had been happening to her body. Lou let me know that they were concerned about her health, but as it turns out she is three months pregnant. Count ‘em. Three. As I listened I wondered, to myself, how a woman who has already bore two children does not realize that she is pregnant. Then I found out that she has an IUD in place and pregnancy wasn’t suppose to be a issue for them. The IUD is one of the things that can posse a problem in this pregnancy.

It’s funny, Lou and I have know each other since I was about twenty one years olds. We worked together at one of the community colleges and would go out to eat and talk about our hopes and dreams and stuff. I thing, at the time, Lou was the only man to ever see me cry (over my first real heart break). Lou was only the second guy that I ever really considered a friend. My very first, real guy friend was murdered outside of a club, when he was twenty-one years old.
When Lou married Bush, got a house and started having babies, we kind of lost track of each other. I never forgot Lou, and would send him and his family Christmas cards every year, but that was the extent of our communication. And then he moved and the connection was lost altogether.

It was about a couple of years ago that Lou ran into my friend Rose, at the store or something, and asked about me and how I was doing. He gave her his number and asked her to have me call him. We made contact and it was like old times again. That is how you know a friendship is true, when you can not have contact for years, run into one another and it be just like you had just spoken to that person the other day.

I love that. And I love my buddy Lou and his family. So, here is the reason for this post. I know that a great majority of my friends in blog land are true believers and know the power of prayer. You know like I know that prayer changes things. When praises go up, blessings come down. I am sending out my prayer request to all you good people in blog word. Say a prayer for my friend’s wife that all things work out and she has a safe pregnancy and a healthy baby.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace

Oh, and while you are praying. I am scheduled for a spinal tap on Monday at 1pm. Could yall throw some of those prayers up for your boy as well.

How You Doing?

2008-08-20T13:57:00.002-05:00

As you’ve probably heard by now, the Wendy Williams Show was picked up for a season. YAH!
I know. I know. I didn’t like her either; at first. To be honest, the only reason that I even started watching her show was in the hopes that she would fail, but now I love the show. As a matter of fact I have it set to record on my DVR.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I still think she use to be a man. Seriously, look at her. 5’11, size 11 shoe, big haired wigs, penis…all those things say man to me. Okay, there are more reasons then that that makes me think that Mrs. Williams was born a man. Lets see….First there are her mannerisms. If you watch her it seems like her femininity does not come naturally. It is like she has to work on being a woman. Then there is the fact that she is constantly throwing her sex in our faces. Verbally, I mean, so we want forget she has a vagina; store bought, but her‘s nonetheless. Second, I have never meet a woman who was so obsessed with homosexuality. This woman is hell bent on calling out people’s sexual preference, like it has something to do with her. I’m just saying. So, she was either born a man or she was raised by drag queens.

With all that said, I am very happy that Mrs. Williams show has been picked up. There are still some kinks that need to be worked out of it….Like the corny way she tries to find a new way to hide her notes for the Hot Topic segment. That shit got old real fast and she rarely even looks at the damn things. Other than that, I’m good with the show. She has really toned herself down for television…I guess to make more people comfortable to come on her show, because lets face it; what man or woman is going to come on her show if she is going to be calling out their masculinity?

Anyway, her six week sneak peak ends on Friday and I can’t wait for her to come back next year. I wish her all the luck in the world. I could careless that she use to be a man. You do you, Wendy! “How you doing?”

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Wendy is the one on your right hand side.

Am I Wrong?

2008-08-18T22:12:00.003-05:00

You tell me if I am wrong for this…..I have this older sister…let’s call her The Mooch. The Mooch is the oldest out of all of us, and when you consider that I am forty years old you might be able to guessimate her age (I am in the middle). Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my sister to death, but the problem is that I don’t really like her. She has been a torn in my ass since childhood. The Mooch is a users. As a matter of fact she has made a career out of using men. She even used me, taking advantage of the fact that I was a home body, who never took stock in material things, thus never really spent any of the money I got from my little jobs. I use to constantly “loan” her money and would never get paid back. After awhile, with the help of my other sister, I learned that The Mooch was only taking advantage of me and would continue to do so if I didn’t put a stop to it. Of course it help once I was out on my own and had bills and shit to pay.

Still, even on my own my family as a whole, not just The Mooch, saw me as a walking, talking ATM machine. Why is it that people just assume that because you are unmarried and single, without kids, that you have excess money to burn? Or is that just my family?

Anyway, a couple of days ago The Mooch called and left a message on my machine asking to borrow four hundred dollars. Four hundred! She needs it for my niece, who is a little bitch, who is off at Texas Commerce. I love my niece, but trust me when I say she is a little self absorbed bitch. She comes by it honestly, trust me. Remind me to tell you the story of her forgetting who I was and trying to talk back to me. What is it with black girls and them trying to tell you that “even my daddy don’t hit me.”? I had to let her ass know that I wasn’t her daddy and that I would grab her by her hair, drag her out into the street and beat her little ass. Was that wrong? This was a few years back, remind me to share the story with you someday. Anyway, every since that day my relationship with this niece as never quite been the same. I guess it didn’t help that I told this to her in front of her little ex-drug dealing boyfriend.

Anyway, I ignore the message from a couple of days ago, because The Mooch knows that I don’t loan her money any more. Hell, I won’t even loan her twenty dollars, so good luck with four hundred. There was a point and time when she would try the scenic route of asking me for money. Yeap, she would go through our mom. Whatever. I had to put my mom on check for that crap too. I had to tell her that she can’t call and ask to borrow money for other people. Damn, my ass ain’t stupid.

So, today, there is yet another message on my answering machine, from the Mooch. She is sounding all pathetic and saying how badly she needs to borrow this four hundred dollars and how she will pay me back by the 28th and how she has tried everywhere else. Whatever. I am not in the market of taking care of grown ass people with grown ass kids. You better go to that bastard that you have been living with for over twenty something years. Hell, he is the father of my niece, let him be your go to person. How the hell do you not have at the very least, four hundred dollars in the back to begin with? Can I get you to learn to save money instead of buying your kids hundred dollar tennis shoes and all the name brand clothes and shit. That’s why their priorities are all fucked up as it is.

This post was inspired by the second message from my sister and a post I read today by Raw Dawg. He was talking about the word “depend” and what it means to be able to “depend” on someone or have someone to depend on you. I think I got that right.

So, am I wrong for not calling the Mooch back? Because I have no intention of calling her back. Hell, she never calls me unless she wants something. Hell, I was surprised when she sent me an email wishing me a happy birthday. I didn’t even know she had an email address. Now, trust me, four hundred dollars would not break me. Hell, I probably would not even miss it. But that is four hundred dollars I could use towards my mom’s upcoming birthday. Yeah, mom’s birthday is not until October, but the Mooch is not going to pay me back.

Oh, and here is another thing about the Mooch. When you do loan her money she wants you to go out of your way to get it to her. What ever. She needs to find another resource, because my oil supply as run dry.

LOL How said is it that if my baby sister needed the money for Manny that I would be out the door right now. I’d be mad at her for asking but she’d have the money in hand.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Failure to ID

2008-08-17T21:18:00.001-05:00

I don’t understand grown ass folks who don’t carry identification. It wasn’t until I became a police officer that I became aware that folks don’t carry some type of identification. Can somebody please explain this shit to me? Two of the many things that my mom pounded into my head was that it was important to have at least get an identification card and to open up some type of saving account. Oh, and to always wear clean underwear encase you get into an accident. I solved that by not wearing underwear at all. Take that, mom!

Anyway….Yeah, seriously, why do people not carry identification? Is it that hard. They either don’t carry it or their wallet was just stolen or lost a couple of days ago and they have not had chance to replace it. Whatever, you better show me something. At least have a tattoo on your ass, with your name and address, so I can identify your ass just encase you get murdered.
If you get murdered and don’t have identification, are not driving your own car and not in an area that anybody knows you, how the heck do you expect me to know who your dumb ass is? How? Then your dumb ass ends up lying in the morgue as a John Doe, or Leroy Brown….I don’t care! It’s very inconsiderate.

Yes, this post has a meaning behind it. We had a homicide last night and of course I was the first one on scene. I even beat the paramedics to the scene and they are normally the first one there. The guy, who for some reason they thought was Hispanic, but I know my people when I see them, was slumped over face first in the passenger side of a pickup truck. You could see the two bullet holes that had went through the driver side window. Upon first glance you see no blood, but he is unresponsive so it is obvious that at least one of the shoots hit him. I move out of the way and let the paramedics do their job. As the left him out of the car the blood begins to flow from his nose and mouth. He is DRT (Dead Right There).

Pretty sad. They try to work on him, but let me know that is just their standard procedure but for the most part he is dead. As it turns out only one shot hit him, in the upper torso; still, it was enough to kill him. As of this moment we have no idea who he is and only a vague account of what occurred.

Anyway…carry some identification, people!

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

That's a Momma!

2008-08-15T12:51:00.003-05:00

I still don’t know exactly what he did but this is how I got involved.

Sometime after three in the morning it started just pouring down rain. I don’t know where it came from, but God opened up a veil and let the rain come down. I had just left Ihop and was headed back to the station when I saw this heavy set woman walking, head down, in the rain. As I driving her way I saw her waving her hand at me, so of course I stopped.

“Can you help me?” she asked.

“I don’t know. What you got?”

“I need to get to my son. An Officer has him at such and such and such and such.”

“Oh. So you need a ride up there?”

“Yes, my car broke down.”

“Okay. Hop in the back seat.”

She hops in the backseat, once I unlock the door, and I make a uturn and take her to such and such and such and such. I see the two squad cars, parked up under the sally port of the gas station and I find myself a spot as the lady gets out and charges her seventeen year old son. I was about to ask the female officer what was going on, when I see mom positioning son, on the back of the squad car, for a beat down. I decide to watch this instead.

Mom takes son’s belt, and tells him to put his hands on the trunk of the car and then proceeds to beat that ass. Now, since he has on jeans and what looks like two pair of boxer shorts he’s not feeling it and I guess he smiled. I didn’t see it, because his back is to me but I hear mom say; “So you think it’s funny. Pull down those pants. Let them sag like you like it. Yeah, you out here embarrassing me. I’m going to embarrass you.”

Hell, I thought she was going to make him bare skinny ass checks so I turned around, until the lashing started again. No, she didn’t make him go ass out, but she tapped that ass, like my momma use to do, and gave him a lecture to boot. It was nice to see. At one point, during the beat down, he turn around on her. I guess it most have started to hurt, even though he wasn’t showing it.

Yeah, he turn around and walked up on her. Okay, here is where I need to give you a idea of how they measured up to one another. Mother was about 5’6’’, one sixty five or so. Son was about 6’, one fifty. When son turned around on mom, mom said. “Oh. What you going to do, huh? What you go wanna do? You wanna go to jail or you want this ass whooping. You seventeen now. You go to big people jail.” (Big people jail is what I call it. She actually used the name of the facility). Anyway, he chose the ass whooping and she tore him up. She even got some of the back and if you know like I know…..It’s not a true ass beating if they don’t accidentally catch the back a few times.

Once she was finished whooping his ass, she gave him back his belt to put on and then she cried.
Now, THAT’S a momma!

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

I got to say, last week one of my fathers of the criminal teens in my area…you know the ones I

do bed checks on? He called me to let me know that it was almost eleven o’clock and his fifteen year old was not at home. I was very happy that I was getting cooperation from these parents.

Birthday Boy

2008-08-13T08:50:00.002-05:00

Happy Birthday to me.

Happy Birthday dear One Man.

Happy Birthday to me.

Many well wishes of happiness from me to you, my family in blogville.

I have listened to your advise and decided not to get drunk on this special day. I think I will work on my sex book. I've been completing sketches of various positions. I just have to find the right style of cartooning now.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Two Down

2008-08-10T22:02:00.004-05:00

I was at the Universoul Circus with my family today. We were enjoying the festivities and such when my brother, who was sitting right next to me sent me a text that read; "Issac Hayes, dead at 65." I couldn't believe it. Not that people do not die, but just because when I got the text it dawned on me that they always say that celebrities die in threes. First Mr. Mac. Now, Mr. Hayes. I wonder who will be the next.

Somewhere, someplace, some black celebrity is huddled in a corner praying it is not them.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Hayes. You will be missed, but your music shall live on.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Just An Small Taste

2008-08-10T07:24:00.003-05:00

Chapter Six

“YOU GAVE ME GONORRHEA!”
Edward knew he must have heard D’Alene wrong, as the words shot from the phone and into his ear. He’d already been having a restless day and he didn‘t need outside drama to go with it. His body was still acting up and he had just come back in from a short jog around the block to prove to himself that thing were getting back to normal. He had stop by one of the local fast food places that specialized in home cooked meals and gotten himself a bowl of tortilla soup, a piece of rotisserie chicken and a small Caesar salad, to-go. Not the kind of homecooking he was accustomed to but then again, these folks came from a different home. When he got back to his apartment he plopped down on the couch and clicked on his big screen, high definition, television in the living room. He’d made it just in time to catch the People's Court, one of his favorite shows. He had a mad crush on the judge.
The Judge was on her game today, not only catching the plaintiff in a lie, but calling her on it and throwing in a little Latin proverb to boot. Edward loved the woman. She was beautiful, sex and full of fire. Strong willed women turned him on and her bailiff wasn’t bad to look at either. A tall, strapping brother, dark skinned and muscled all up and stuff.
He managed to time it so that his last bite of food ended with the rolling of the credits for the show. He clicked off the television, and took the fast food containers into kitchen where he rinsed them out before tying them up in the plastic sack they came in and tossing it into the stainless steal trash container, sitting up against the floor cabinets.
Once he had finished his little meal his bed began to call to him. He fought the urge to go to it, for all it was worth. He would not go to sleep; not yet. Although, it wouldn’t be that bad of a thing if he did go to bed, after all he did have to be at work by ten. However, it was only a little after noon. He normally didn’t shut it down until after three on work days. The doctor had told him, days prior, that he was in peak physical condition, so he was determined to make his body live up to that. He’d decided to take out the trash, and then take a quick run around the block. So, he had thrown on some shorts, a tank top and a pair of old running shoes.
When he’d returned home from his jog, and could hear the phone ringing as he put the key into the lock. He pushed open the door and ran over to the phone, which was station on the counter between the living area and kitchen, not bothering to look at the caller id. It was D’Alene, a young lady he had been seeing for a couple of week. D’Alene was a tall sister, standing about five foot nine, in flats. She sported some very stylish dreads that came down to her shoulders. It was the dreads that had initially attracted him to her. Edward had a fascination with dreads, and would have sported the look himself if it had not been frowned upon by his department.
Her skin tone was just a tinge darker than his, and she had the most mesmerizing hazel-green eyes, and some stellar tits, all of which were homemade, not store bought. He had meet her while wandering the mall in search of the exact same leather coat he had worn when he’d taken the Corporal’s exam. She had been in the same store and he had asked her advise on how it looked on him. They’d made an immediate connection and had been dating every since. Last night was the first time he had actually prepared her a home cook meal, all the other times she had invited him over for one of her tantalizing culinary treats, or they‘d go out to a nice restaurant.
Although he was not the best of cooks, Edward could put his foot into some sour cream enchiladas. So, he had prepared a dinner of sour cream enchiladas, brown rice, a tossed salad and a fruit cup, complete with fresh fruit that he had hand picked and cut himself. He even had a pitcher of red Kool-aid chilling in the freezer, so it would have that nice frosty flare to it. Not the most romantic of meals, but his presentation was on point. He served it on the decorative plates that his mom had given him way back when he moved into his first apartment. He dimmed the lights and set candles strategically around the apartment. He even placed an arrangement of fresh cut flowers in the center of the table to set it off, and had a CD of soft, soothing jazz playing in the back ground. He, himself, hated Jazz. Someone had actually given him the CD as a birthday gift. However, he thought that the music fit the occasion better than his old TLC CD.
He just knew he had hit the romantic mood on the head and if anyone had said different, he would have slapped them upside the head and told their mother he had done it.
The dinner had gone pretty well and D'Alene seemed to enjoy it. After they’d finished their meal, he told her to have a seat in the living room, while he quickly rinsed off the plates, stacking them neatly into some warm dish washer, before joining her on the couch. They sat on the couch and watch a very bad comedy, starring one of the Waynan brothers, before getting a little frisky. She had initiated it, when she started nibbling on his neck and ear, while placing her hand directly down the front of his pants. The next thing he knew they were unzipped and she had set his member free. Then, before he could stop her, she had her face down in his lap. His poor dick, found itself escaping one dark place just to end up in another.
Edward thought that the most demeaning thing a woman could do was to give a guy head. He knew this placed him into a huge minority among heterosexual men, in truth he could not think of a single one who shared this sentiment, but he could not help the way he felt. He had both a younger and two older sisters and the thought of any of them providing this service to a guy repulsed him.
Although mentally he claimed to be repulsed by the act, somehow he managed to maintain his erection. Apparently his repulsion did not manage to make the long trip down from his brain to his dick, which seemed to have its on opinion on the matter. No wonder they referred to the thing as the second head. It had been a while since he’d had any type of sexual stimulation, and the last time was self inflicted. His dick seem to enjoyed the warmth D’Alene mouth provided. Who was he to deny his little guy such a simple pleasure.
He threw his head back over the back of the couch and forced his mind to put out the image of what she was doing to him. He just wanted to enjoy the feeling between his legs. He felt the ecstasy rising , and knew he was about to let loose of his special juices. He pressed the palm of his hand firmly against her forehead in an attempt to push her off, but she held fast. He wanted to stop, so as not to skeet in her mouth, but his hips had other plans. They continued to gyrate and thrust, faster and he found that his had went from trying to push her face away to actually pushing it deeper down onto his nine inches of manhood. He felt the fluid as it pumped from his loins like glue being aggressively pressed out a caulking gun, right into her mouth.
Then Edward watched as D’Alene did the unthinkable. He was disgusted and repulsed all at once, but he watched anyway, just to make sure that he had not imaged it. Instead of spitting out his semen, she swallowed it. She actually swallowed his seed. Damn, girl, if you were still hungry there are still some enchiladasleft in the oven, he thought. YUCK!
That was only the day before. So, how could he had possibly given the girl gonorrhea? He didn’t know much about the disease but he was pretty sure it attacked the genitals. Could gonorrhea even be transmitted oral? He knew that Herpes could, but he wasn’t sure about gonorrhea. He had never heard of anyone having gonorrhea of the mouth. Diarrhea of the mouth, yeah, but never gonorrhea. He supposed anything was possible.
Wait a minute. Hadn’t he just gotten a clean bill of health from his doctor. Surely he would have been told if he’d had any type of venereal disease, right? Or didn’t they test you for S.T.Ds when you got a physical? He wasn’t sure.
Where would he even have picked up the disease? He wasn’t even sexually active. At least not to in anyway that mattered. Plus, he didn’t have any symptoms of the virus. Wasn’t there suppose to be a burning sensation when you peed or something? Then it hit him. He had been very lethargic, lately. Wasn’t that the very thing that prompted him to go to the doctor in the first place? Was sluggishness a symptom of the disease. WAS IT? He suddenly found himself wishing that he had paid closer attention in Health Ed.
Then the bigger question came to his mind. How did she know that she had contracted the disease so fast? Wasn’t there an incubation period for all diseases? Their sexual escapade had just happen the day before. At least the one that ended with her pleasuring him had, but he had preformed oral sex on her on more than one occasion. Was it possible that she had given the disease to him? Yeah, that had to be it. She had found out that she’d somehow contracted the disease and needed a scapegoat, so she came over an forced herself on him. Flip the script, as some might say. After all, she knew he didn’t believe in female on male oral copulation, because she had tried it several times before only to be rebuked. But she had caught him slipping the other night. No wonder she had been so overly aggressive in taking his seed.
That bitch as hoe! What kind of promiscuous skank had he allowed himself to get involved with this time? Any woman who would swallow his seed was capable of any other number of sexual depravities. Shit. Now he was going to have to call Dr. Sterling’s office first thing in the morning and make yet another appointment. Until then, he needed to hang up with this hoe and get online and look up gonorrhea Thank you God for Google.
He could feel the anger inside of him begin to surface like boiling milk right before it over flowed.
“I gave you what?”
“Diarrhea,” she reiterated. “You heard me! What the hell was in that mess you feed me?”
Diarrhea? Quick inner sigh of release. Whew! He almost smiled, would have too, if not for the fact that she had just called his food ‘mess’. His temper had already reach chemical mass, so he was grateful that she was still giving him an outlet where as to unleash it. He’d spent the entire day preparing that meal.
“MESS!” he shouted back into the phone.
“You heard me! I damn sho didn’t stutter! I’ve been on the fucking toilet shitting all day!?
“Well, what did you have to eat today, maybe that what got you sick?”
“I didn’t have a damn thing to eat today, mother fucker! The last thing I had was that rancid shit you feed me the night before.”
Who the fuck did this heifer think she was, calling his house with all this drama? Didn’t she know that this was his castle, and he would defend the sanctity of it with all the verbal prowess he could muster? “Okay, the first thing you need to do is stop yelling at the me! And I got your motherfucker in my back pocket!”
“This is my mother fucking mouth and I’ll use it any way I mother fucking please!”
“Well, I don‘t give a care whose mother fucking mouth it is, D'Alene! Don’t be calling my house with all this mother fucking bullshit, okay?”
“Bitch, are you fucking kidding me! I had to call in sick today, because you don’t know how to clean a fucking chicken? Probably infected my ass with all kinds of salmonella and shit ! Don’t tell me what to do!”
Did she just call him a bitch?
“It took me all day to figure it out, but once I finally was able to get my black ass safely off the toilet, without shitting myself, It came to me! Yeah, it damn sho‘ did!”
“Figured what out? I ate the same chicken you ate and I’m perfectly fine. As a matter of fact I..."
“I don’t wanna hear that shit!” she said, cutting him off.
“Look, you are not gonna call my house and just talk to me any kinda way. How the hell do you know you didn’t get sick from something you ate before you came over here anyway?”
“BECAUSE I DO!” She screamed it into the phone so loud that Edward had to remove it from his ear to prevent her from blowing out a drum. She was being irrational and you can’t argue nor have a reasonable conversation with a irrational person, let alone a woman. Damn, you’d have thought he given her AIDS or something. Was it really that serious?
He was actually kind of sorry she had been sick and hoped it hadn’t been from his cooking. He wanted to be chivalrous and offer to come over and take care of her. Bring he some soup and crackers, a bottle of Sprite or Ginger Ale.. The thought even occurred to him that he could call in to work and tell them he was not going to be able to come in tonight, but she had put him on the defensive. Made him feel the need to protect himself. But in all honesty, it was hard to stay angry during a phone conversation, especially one as foolish as this, so he could feel his anger beginning to dissipate. If he had made her sick, which he doubted, she had every right to be mad. Maybe not as mad as she was , but mad nonetheless. Hell, he’d gotten angry for less.
“Look, Dee, if you’d just calm down. I’m sorry if I made you sick. I really don’t think it was my cooking that did this too you, but if you want, I can come over tonight…”
“Are you fucking kidding me! You almost killed me with that shit you feed me last night and you wanna come over? You must be smoking!
And just like that, it was back. His anger, rising like a phoenix from the grave. He had not only just apologized for something he still wasn’t sure was his fault, but was offering to come over and take care of her and she just spits it back into his face. Oh, HELL NO!
“Look here, D’Alene, “ he started to say but was cut off by her now shrilled voice. You think the woman had never been sick before, let alone had a case of diarrhea.
“No, you look,” she screamed into the other end of the phone. “I made myself a doctor’s appointment for first thing in the morning. If it turns out I have food poisoning, I am going to sue the fuck out of your ass!”
“What!?!”
“You hear me, you punk as bitch. Expect a copy of my medical bills in the mail!”
CLICK!
Click?
No this bitch did not just hang up on him! He hated that shit. He could feel his body shake with rage, he was so pissed. He resisted the urge to call her back. Resisted even harder the to urge to drive over to her house for a face to face confrontation. He could see the time displayed on the digital clock on his oven and realized it was almost five o’clock. Almost five, well past the time he would have normally shut it down and now he was going to be entirely too anger to fall asleep. His anger had overwhelm the drowsiness he had experience earlier.
FUCK!

Bernie Mac Canceled

2008-08-09T09:15:00.005-05:00

At 8:43 this morning a receive a text message saying that Actor/Comedian, Bernie Mac passed away. What the hell? I just read yesterday that he was recovering nicely from his bout with pneumonia and was being released. Maybe it is one of those sick jokes that people send out? That is what runs through my mind (after all, it did come via a number with no name attached).

So, I immediately check google and sure enough, it is true. Bernie Mack passed away early this morning, at Northwestern Memorial hospital. So, some time while I was downloading pictures and sharing the great time I had at my pre-forty birthday bash, Mr. Mac passed away at the age of 50. Fifty, yall! That is not old.

This news ,and reading the article confirming it to be true, made me so sad. I don’t really know why either. It’s is not like that I am so star struck that I was devastated by the news. It isn’t even that I was the humongous fan, who thought he was the best comedian to ever grace God’s green earth. So, why is it that the news of the man’s death hit me kind of hard?
Is it because it happened so close to be getting ready to celibrate another year of my life and the news of a man, who seemed to be so filled with joy and goodwill, only served to remind me of just how mortal we are?

I really don’t know. And I don’t want to go on a pity, party parade. I’ll just mourn his passing and say a silent prayer for his family and friends.

In memory of Mr. Mac, who was born Bernard McCullough, I have posted a picture of him, as well as a picture of the most spectacular rainbow I have ever seen. It made a complete arch in the sky, but I was not able to capture it in all it’s glory. God is a miracle maker, regardless of you believe system. All thing happen for the good of Him. May you rest in Peace Mr. Mac. I didn’t know you, but I would think you would want us to celebrate your life, rather than be depressed over your passing.

Remember, no matter how young or old you maybe, life is short and death comes like a theft n the nightt. No one knows the day or hour when it may pay us a visit. So, live your life to the fullest and treat your love one as well as your enemies like today is the last day of the rest of their lives. Get all that love in while you can and if they pass away, no regrets. And if they live another day? Cool. You get the shower them with just as much love that day too.
Hell, love is free. Pass it around, you cheap bastards!

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Family + Friends= Longevity

2008-08-09T07:21:00.003-05:00

I am so blessed. I have good friends. Good Family, and great and supportive people from the blog world. Yesterday, my friends gave me the best birthday party in the world. I had such a wonderful time. My friend, Big C, held it at his house and funded all of the food and drinks. Can you believe that. He even took off from work to go shopping and prepare all of the food and stuff.

Big C is the bomb. I feel kind of guilty, because I know he spent money out the butt on all of the grub. Big C is the only friend I keep from college. You know me…little to know social skills. I should tell you something about him, as a person, that we have managed to stay in touch for ten years now. I rarely allow new people into my social life. It’s just not in my character. (Yet another reason why I am living single.)

Big C, who is younger than me, graduated and became a Lawyer. I became a police officer. He is a potter and I am a painter. He is the coolest person in the world and I both proud and honored to count him among my friends.

I had the best time and got some of the best gifts. All I asked for was draws, tshirts and socks, but received none of the above. My friends thought my gift ideas were too boring. Whatever!
Above is my cake. How funny are they! Peep the donuts they used to boarder it. How funny! This idea came from my friend, Funny Guy. Yeah, he also got me some Just for Men, hair dye and a bag of Sunfresh Prunes. HAHA.

My family came too. They are so funny. True to CP time, the party started at seven…I think my mom, little brother and Manny showed up at eight and my little sister than make an appearance until almost ten (when we were shutting down and cleaning up).

That’s right. We are not the late night, party hardy group. I never have been! I like to go home and get into bed.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

2008-08-07T07:30:00.004-05:00

What is wrong with this picture? It is suppose to be a picture of Eva Pigford and the R&B singer, Maxwell. After a little research, very little research, I found out that the guy is only a Maxwell look a-like, but Eva is the real deal (from America's Next Top Model). Since I wouldn’t know Maxwell if he sat beside me on the city bus I have no idea if the bruh is him or not. Nor do I care. Nor do I care about the picture.

I see nothing wrong with the photo. I see it as just another peice of art. I think it is done in good taste. As a matter of fact, the people in it don’t even look real. Where the heck is Eva’s breast? I never knew she was so very flat chested.

The buzz around the picture is what is it's purpose? Why are they nude? Why are they on bales of hay? Why? Why? Why? Well, if this same image was of unknowns would the questions still be out there? Why can't it just be art? Real art speaks for itself or at least it allows to viewer to make their own judgments. Why is it that when you put people of any kind of celebrity in a picture there most always be a higher message?

Anyway, what do you think? Have you seen the picture? Do you think it is too graphic, because the Maxwell guy has his hand over Eva’s cootie-coo and his own crotch?

I personally find absolutely nothing erotic about the photo. Heck, even Eva’s breast or lack there of, are less than sensual. I mean, anyone who could get their rocks off to this picture had to have been getting boners when they undressed their sister’s Barbie doll to see if it was anatomically correct; because this is the photographic equivalent to nude Barbie and G.I. Joe.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Of course, it could be an aid for women's shoes. What do you think, VV?

The Simple Things

2008-08-06T18:20:00.001-05:00

As yall may well know, this is my birthday month. Yes, your boy One Man turns the big 4-0 on the thirteenth of this month. The month of the Leo baby. This coming Friday, one of my College Friends, a practicing Lawyer, is giving me a birthday party at his house. Isn’t that cool? I love my friends.

It should be interesting, since I have invited my family to participate in this bootleg, gala event. My friends are a eclectic bunch. They are black, white, Asian, Mexican, male, female, gay and straight. I might play a bigot on blog world, but I love and hate everyone the same. That’s just how I roll. LOL.

I think I am the simplest person in the world the shop for, because I don’t want or expect anything. If you ask me what I want for my birthday I will tell you, underwear, t-shirts (black or white-because it always comes back to race with me), and socks (strictly black). Everything I didn’t want for Christmas, growing up.

I want these things because I hate buying these things for myself. Especially underwear, mainly because I don’t wear underwear in my everyday life. I only wear it for work, which is what I need all that crap for. I wouldn’t even wear underwear to work, but the material is so damn thin, I’d share all my business with the world at large (if you know what I mean).

On my actual day of birth, I would like to get drunk. Blind, stinking drunk. Don’t you think it is sad that I have never been drunk, in my entire life? I’m proud of the fact that I have never done drugs, but I think I would enjoy being drunk; in a safe environment of course. I need to get drunk and I think I would like to be arrested for public intoxication, but that’s just foolishness. I’d lose my job, or at least get some time off for that shit and my ass is too old and senile to be starting over. Lol.

Not only would I like to get drunk, I would like someone to video tape my drunkenness. I wonder what kind of drunk I would be. I don’t see myself being an angry drunk. I think I would be more of the mellow kind of drunk, since that is who I am. I don’t see the drunk bringing me out of my shell, and the truth is, when around my friends, I am off the chain with out the assistance of alcohol.

I have two friends that are willing to take me out and help me achieve this goal on next Wednesday. One is my friend Lou, but I know he will not allow me to get drunk. I doubt if he will even allow me to get buzzed. Lou is Hispanic. Then there is Wilma. Wilma’s ass will get me good and drunk, but she will also allow me to drive home, like an idiot and I need someone to prevent me from making such bad, job losing, choices. Wilma is black. Of course there is always Ray. Ray is also Hispanic. The problem with Ray is that not only will he get me drunk, but he will also invite a bunch of his questionable friends, who get violent when they drink and I am not trying to die on the day of my birth, nor on the day after.

Hum, maybe I should just give up getting drunk on my birthday.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Yes Godfather

2008-08-06T07:28:00.003-05:00

I am a horrible godparent. My cousin gave me the honor of being the Godfather to his baby boy and invited me to the Christening on Sunday. I felt so bad, because I didn’t know the kids name, nor did I know how old the kid was. I didn’t even go to the hospital when the child was born. Isn’t that terrible? So, I made it up in my mind that I would go to the Christening, regardless. Come hell or high water, I was going to be there. Lucky for me, I remembered where the church was, because it was right across the street from the Methodist Church I grow up in.

My cousin left a message on my answering machine telling me that the pastor, his father-in-law, wanted the Godparents to be at church at least by one o’clock. This was great, because it gave me ample time to get some sleep before heading out. I got there ten minute prior , just encase they started early (I don’t know who I was fooling). LOL. The pastor of the church is one of those pastors who love to hear themselves talk and don’t know when to shut the hell up.

The church is huge, but the congregation is small. After I take my seat towards the front, back, waiting for the pastor to shut the hell up, I do a head count of the people in the huge church. Yeah, there were that few a number that I felt I could do a head count, although I don‘t know what possessed me to perform a tactical head count. I’d say there was no more than a hundred folks in the church, which would have held about a thousand comfortably, and that was including the children.

When they are about to perform the Christening ceremony, my cousin looks back and sees me (I know his ass didn’t expect me to come), but I don’t let down family or friends. I throw up the peace sign at him and he motions for me to come sit up front with him and his ugly wife. I shake my head ’no’ so he comes back and gets me. He informs me that the Pastor wants all the Godparents to sit up front, so I concede and go up front. Wifey hands me over my little Godchild, childhood obesity lives folks, and I learn his name and how old he is (6 months). I play with him and tell my cousin that I needed him to hold me accountable as this child’s Godfather; meaning that if he ever needed for anything, they needed to call my ass up.

After the ceremony, comes the offering and this is also where I start the payment account on my one way ticket to Hell.

****This has nothing to do with me being a bad Godparent so feel free not to read. Note: If you choose to read then know you run the risk of taking that nonstop flight to Hell with me.*****

It has literally been ages since I have been held captive at a church, while the pastor begs for money. I hate that shit too. It drive me nuts.

The Pastor, who I don’t like because my cousin tells me how he is the father in-law from hell, plus he talks to damn much…The pastor tells us, the congregation, how every first Sunday they have this little contest where they have tribes. At the offering table there is one gold tray and one silver tray. The silver tray is the tribe of Isaac and the gold tray is the tribe of Jacob. Then he precedes to ramble on and one about the damn trays, having one of the two men up there for offering hold up the tray he is speaking on. These trays are lifted no less than three times a piece.

I’m like, “Alright, already! I get it! Can we get on with the damn offering. Fuck!” Then he goes on to say how he is with the tribe of Jacob, so any visitors in the house could feel free to put their offering in the gold tray. I make up in my mine that my offering was going straight into the silver one. Then he says how their goal is to collect three hundred dollars, per tray. I am like, “What the fuck?” Mind you, I have already done a head count and I know God is good, but there was no way he was going to get six hundred dollars from that lot. I had only brought in a ten my damn self.

When he finally starts the offering and a tally is done, it turns out there is only 65 dollars in the gold tray (they never give a total for the silver tray, but from where I sat I could tell that more people had placed money in that tray than the gold one. Anyway, do the pastor proceeds to beg for more money in the gold tray. He even calls out the member of the tribe of Jacob, asking them to raise their hands to show were they were. Then he proceeds to say that he gave twenty of the sixty-five dollars, so he knew they were hold out.

This shit went on for a good fifteen minutes and the only reason I didn’t leave was because I wanted to takes some pictures of my Godson. Still, that shit was ridiculous. And all the time I was sitting there I was thinking, besides the dirty words, “this is why people have started robbing churches.” Ain’t that wrong? I know God will forgive me though. We cool like that.
But seriously, whatever happen to that saying about God loving a cheerful giver? It ain’t cheerful if your ass has to beg for it. The people gave what they planned on giving, move on with it. I was so mad by the time I left that church I know I lost any blessing that I might have received just by being there. As a matter of fact, just because of the thoughts I was thinking I just knew that if Jesus had come back in that moment my ass would have went straight to hell.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

The Path to Senility

2008-08-04T13:05:00.004-05:00

1. Saturday I was making a phone call on my cell, at work. And as the phone rang in my ear I searching for my cell phone. It wasn’t until I hung up my cell phone, after not receiving an answer, that I realized that I was on my cell phone.
2. I am in the middle of talking to one of my troops and totally forget his name.
3. Calling detail and go to pass it over to the sergeant next to me and have to ask him his name.
4. Talking to one of my nieces, to tell her that I saw a car for her sister and had to ask my niece what her sister’s name was.
5. Not being able to remember if you ate that day.
6. Losing my keys on a regular, at work.
7. Have to leave your back window unlocked, because you are constantly locking yourself out the damn house.
8. Going to a Cotillion ball on Saturday and then directly to work. Getting home from work and looking for you house keys, that separate from your car keys and normally leave in the car, because your key chain has too many keys on it. Having to climb through the window, in order to get into the house. Realizing, the next day, that the keys to your house was in the exact same pair of pants you were wearing when you climbed through the window the day before.
9. Finding twenty and some sometimes more, dollar bills in the pocket of clothes you have not worn in a while.
10. Finding sunglasses, that you have been looking for for over a year, and just know someone had came over and stolen the bitches in the pocket of a suit coat that you had not worn in a while.
11. Getting up to go get something at home and forgetting what it was when you get into the next room.
12. Getting up to do something at work and forgetting what it was.
13. Signs that you are beginning to hoard things. (I need to do a post on hoarding).
14. Laying in bed, changing the tv with your remote control, and then forgetting where you laid the remote, even though you have not left the damn bed. Seriously, how wrong is that.
As my birthday grows nearer, just a little over a week away, I get more and more concerned with the onset of senility. Now, as far as I know, there has never been a history of senility in my family; but keep in mind I only know one side of my family. I know absolutely nothing about my father or his people. Senility is real and though I joke about it, tongue and cheek, it concerns me that I might be a risk frightens me.

How the fuck is it that I have not a single gray hair and yet am going senile? I prefer the grey hair, damn it!

Senility. I ain't a good look on a brother.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

WWJD?

2008-08-02T14:24:00.003-05:00

What Would Jesus Do? You rarely hear that saying any more? I never really understood it anyway. What would Jesus do? Heck, sometimes Jesus lost his temper and beat people down. Y’ll all know what he did when he caught those people disrespecting the Temple. He beat that ass! Heck, Jesus use to put people in check on the regular. You better recognize! My God don’t play!

Anyway, yesterday/today, however you want to slice it considering the hours I work, was a busy day. People were shooting and cutting people all night. Plain craziness. Hell, it happens so much it’s hard not to get a little callous.

Between the shooting and the cutting, I was driving from my side of town, into the Southside, were I actual grew up; just to break the monotony. As I was going west bound on the freeway, I see this guy walking along the median, with no shirt on--Not to strange--So I get on the radio, tell the dispatcher what I saw and let her know I am going to check it out. I have to exit the freeway and try to get back around to him.

Once I make it back around I see him up ahead so I drive up on the median, so I won’t get rear ended by any of the drunken idiots who might be leaving the clubs. It is around three or so in the morning, just so you know. As my squad car pulls up the guys eyes widen, not unlike the proverbial deer in the headlights and I can tell, even before I get out of my car, that he ain’t right.

I get out of my car and ask him what he is doing walking along the freeway, in the middle of the night. He tells me he is coming from the projects, which are quite a distance from where we are at (No, he doesn‘t say the Projects). I ask him where he is headed? He tells me he headed home. I ask him where home is and he tell me. Home is miles away still from where we are at. I know the street where he says he lives and decide to give him a ride, but before I do so I have to pat him down for weapons. Officer safety first.

Me: You got any weapons on you?

Him: No.

Me: Okay, well put your hands on your head, so I can pat you down to make sure?

Him: Why?

Me: Because I need to make sure.

He puts his hands on his head and I commence with a quick little terry frisk, which is the pat down of other clothing for weapons. This seems to irk him and he says: “I told you I don’t got no weapons.”

Me: Okay, sir, but I got to make sure. Okay? (His attitude automatically invokes my attitude.)
At this point, he grumbles like a five year old, like I am putting him out because I have to pat his pockets for weapons.

Me: (Standing up straight and looking him dead in the eyes). Look, do I know you?

Him: I told you my name. (He didn’t, because I didn’t ask him what his name is, but like I said, you can tell he is a little slow, special, not quite right. It actually would have been funny, if we hadn‘t been on the freeway, in the middle of the night, with our asses to traffic).

Me: No ( I say this in a stern voice, trying not to be too mean, but being mean nonetheless). No, I mean to I know you? Have we met before? (He doesn’t get it so I move on). No, I don’t know you and since I don’t know you I have to make sure you don’t have any weapons before I put you in my car. Now, I am trying to be nice and give you a ride home, but if you give me attitude I’ll just take you to jail (totally talking out of my ass here). So, what’s it gonna be? Do you want to go to jail or do you want me to take you home?

Him: Home. (I wish y’ll could have seen the puppy dog look in the man’s eyes. I mean, he had to be in his late twenties, but his expression was that of my little nephew’s. Why do you have to be slow to maintain the innocence of youth?)

So, I put him in the back of my squad car and inform the dispatcher that I will be taking one home. As I am putting him in the back of the squad car he lets me know that police officers make him nervous. I let him know that big men, walking on the freeway with out their shirts on, in the middle of the night makes me nervous too. While we drive, I can hear him humming in the back seat. Then he ask me if I like football? I tell him yeah, which is a totally lie, and then ask him which is his favorite team. He says, “America’s team. The Dallas Cowboys!” and is quite again.

When we turn on his street he informs me that I am not like other police officers. When I ask him what he means by that he tells me that any other police officer would have let him keep walking on the freeway. I tell him that I couldn’t have him getting hit by some drunk driver and our conversation is over. I drop him off at his house and wait for him to go inside. His mom must have been up waiting up for him, because she opens the door immediately. I wave at her. She waves back and I leave.

I’m not sure if this is what Jesus would do, but it was the only title I could come up with. Right after that, two more people cut two more people, on two different occurrences.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Oh No I Didn't!

2008-07-30T06:31:00.002-05:00

Oh No I Didn’t

I can’t believe it. Please do not let me become one of those people. Please.
Somebody explain to me why I was up at three thirty in the morning grocery shopping? I didn’t plan on it. I actually went out on a booty call and had to drive by Wally-World and thought I’d stop by to see if they had the suitcase like, briefcase I saw at the Office Depot. I was hoping it would be cheaper at Wally-World. However, once I got there I realized that I need to replenish my icebox and figured, “why the hell not.”

All the time I was shopping I was thinking, “Please don’t let me become one of those people who do the late night/early morning shopping thing.” However, the more I roamed around the ever crowded Wally-World, I was like, “This is cool. No people. No Traffic. Maybe I should start doing this more often..” Hell, I work these hours anyway. What’s the problem?

Anyway, while I was shopping I found some stuff to organize my stuff at work. I bought some extend-a-folders, so I can organize all of the papers and memos and shit that I refuse to threw away. I bought a daily planner, so I can start writing down every time shit happens and I have to “speak” with my troops. I then bought a bunch of stuff to clean my floors and bathroom fixtures. You see, every once and a while I get this overwhelming urge to clean and organize. It doesn't happen very often. Once, maybe twice a year. And when it comes it doesn's last long. Cleaning ain't fun!

I almost bought some stuff to redecorate my house altogether, but chickened out. And I bought all the fixings for some nachos, which I had for breakfast.

I bought over a hundred dollars worth of crap and none of it needed to go into the fridge. How sad is that?

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

I Am Not Happy!

2008-07-29T11:09:00.001-05:00

I am not happy. Sometime yesterday my icebox broke down. I didn’t notice it until around two something and by then I was getting ready for bed and didn’t have time to search for my warranty or call a repair man or nothing. I go to sleep, go into work and get home to a very stank house. Yes, my house has gone from smelling like fucking fish, to a slaughter house. I am not happy!

So, since today is trash day, I grab a couple of plastic trash bags and dump everything. Sucks, to be me right. Then I take a nap, because I am exhausted and missed the phone call from the station, telling me that need me in City Court. City Court my ass! Let the bastard get away with whatever traffic violation he has committed. Sure, I can get a day off for missing court, but I have more pressing matters to attend to. Like seeing if I can find my warranty on this fucking refrigerator.

I clean out every junk drawer, look through all the papers I can think of and find paper work on my washer, dryer, oven, black and white portable tv, blender, IRA, fence, and everything else, but not the fucking Maytag refrigerator. I am pissed, because I have only owned the damn thing for like five years and it has already broken down. I thought Maytag shit was suppose to be the bomb. This shit is not the bomb, but it is the shit.

So, anyway, now I have to find a repair man, because I need my refrigerator to be working. Forget about the basic necessities of food, I can’t drink warm water. I just can’t do it. I need the damn thing fixed just so I can have water to drink. So, I go find my yellow pages and start flipping through the damn thing, in search of an appliance repair person. So, I’m flipping through the pages and it dawns on me that I can’t read a damn thing in the damn book. Well, that’s not true. I can read the phone number, but that’s it. Nothing else.

Why the hell is my yellow pages in Spanish? Seriously, why is the only yellow pages in my house a Spanish one? What the fuck?

So, I go online in search of a repair person. I need my damn refrigerator fixed. I am not happy! The repair place I found, that services the area that I live in, told me that they charge forty-five dollars, just to drive out. That, of course, is deducted from the price of the repair. The repair could be anywhere from one hundred dollars to a little over four hundred bucks. If it turns out the be the latter, you can bet I’m tossing this bitch ass Maytag and going to get me a something brand new.

I am not happy! I can’t believe I can’t find the warranty on this bitch! I know I let the store talk me into a ten year extended warranted. I just know they did. Problem is, I can’t remember what store I bought the damn thing from. Doesn’t that suck. I am so mad right not…I mean, I am not happy!

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Don't Tread On Me

2008-07-27T11:01:00.003-05:00

Okay, why am I hoarse again? I’ll tell you why, because I had to yell my ass off again, last night. That’s right, I am a yeller. That is what I do. I try not to, but when the situation gets out of hand, rather than use force, I yell. Yeah, we have already established this.

This morning was the day of one of my patented bar checks. That is where I, a group of officers of my choosing and members from community prosecution, fire marshals, health, safety, comptrollers office and TABC get together and focus on what is wrong with some of our more problematic bars. Sometimes we go with a zero tolerance state of mind and others we are just there to provide protection as the others that I mentioned do their jobs. It is all my call since I am the man running the ship. That’s right, they all answer to me. Bet you didn’t know your man, One Man, had it like that, huh?

Anyway, since we had thirteen locations we were going to focus on and a limited amount of officers, I figured this was not the time for zero tolerance. What that means is, I tell my officer we are just there for crowd control. We only make arrest if the situation demands it, but by all means, if you see ticketable offences, then have at it. Everything was started off well enough. We respect everyone and everyone respects us; that is how I like it. Especially since the reality is that we are always out number when we go to these things and all one can hope for is voluntary compliance.

We are on our tenth club when a couple of officers get in chase with a couple of guys who car jacked someone at gun point. I hear it on the radio, as the officer are requesting back up and giving their direction of travel. By this time, the officer that I rode out with has gone to take a drunken man, who can not follow simple instructions (she asks him to move around and instead of doing so, he props himself up on the hood of a car and tells her that she can’t tell him what to do. Oh, yeah. That’s going to fly. “click-click”) to jail for public intoxication. I am getting into the back of the car with a couple of my reserve officers and I tell them to take me to the chase, since I have not heard anyone answering up to go that way.

Now, I still have an obligation with this bar check so I get on my cell phone, call a couple of my troops and put them in control of the next bar until my return. I got out to the chase. By the time we make it out there the suspect have bailed out of the truck that they have stolen. The officers are about to catch one, but not before they wreck into the front in the vehicle. Minor damage, no one seriously hurt; so it’s all good.

Sgt. Alright by me, shows up, along with the Lt. So, after I make sure everything is okay. Give the dispatcher the exact location to where we are and am assured by Sgt. Alright by me that he has everything under control (yes, they are looking for the two other criminals that bailed), I tell my reserve officer that we have enough officers out and to take me back to the bar check. Well, en route one of the reserve officers tells me that Officer Quick Tempered has sent all of my City employees home and disregarded the remained of the bar checks.

What the fuck! “He did what?” I ask.

“I just got a message saying that he canceled the rest of the bar checks.”

“Why the heck would he do that?” I want to know. “That is not what I told them to do.”

“I don’t know,” the reserve office replies. “You want me to call him.”

“Yes, please do.”

He calls Officers Quick Tempered and I Made Him Cry on the phone to see if we are too late to gather the bunch back together again. He says it is because they are gone. I am pissed. What the hell is going on here! If I trust you do something. Do it! I mean, I was gone no more than fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. The club that I sent them too was packed and I know how long it takes for the other organizations to handle up on their business there. There was no way they had completed everything in that short amount of time.

It just so happens, as we are headed that way, the two officers in question come tearing around the corner. The reserve officers rolls down my window so I can speak with them.

“What happened,” I ask. “Why did you dismantle the bar check. That is not what I asked you to do.”

“Well, boss (yeah, he calls me boss),. We got together with the members of Community Prosecution and decided that since you were the controlling supervisor out on the chase it was better to send them on their way and have them fax you all of their activity. (Yeah, right. And my name is Willy Foo-Foo. I know full well that a chase was going on and yall gunho ass bastards wanted to get in on it, so instead of doing the job in entrusted unto you, you decided to half ass it so you could join in the fray. Well, no such look bitches.) That’s right. I told them to clear in answer calls.

Anyway, my suspicions were confirmed when I went to the station and to two ladies from the fire marshal’s office show up to get the station fax number. They let me know that they had been rushed through the club and told to get in and out by Officer Quick Tempter. This does little to dampen my own temper. She also tells me that she drove by the after hours spot, that she really wanted us to look into, on the way to the station and they were still going hard. Keep in mind that it is almost four o’clock and this is not New York City. We have a cut off time in Dallas. I tell her, okay, most off my officer are out answering calls, but I can get a couple together and we will head out that way with her and her partner. She tells me that I will need more than a couple of officers, and I tell her that I am more than I couple of officers (yeah, cocky, I know).
I call another set of my officers, who I hear on the radio and ask them where they are at. They tell me they are out at the scene of the chase looking for any evidence that might have been dropped by the suspects. I tell them to come to the station, there is enough officers out there. And do you know this bastard has the nerve to ask me why. I am not in the mood to be questions at this point. If I direct you to come to the station, come to the station. And I tell as much. I wait fifteen minutes, they have not shown up yet and so we head to the after hours spot without them. We are on the freeway when they call me on my cell asking where I am. I tell them and instruct them to meet me there RFN (right fucking now).

We arrive at our destination and this place is packed. People all on the streets, both side and the club is over flowing, both inside and out. However, no one is being disruptive, so I am good. However, my Fire Marshall ladies have went into this packed club by their lonesome. I enter with two other officers and instruct them not to let anyone leave until the fire marshals can get a head count. Well, people decide to head out the back door. I have to exit the front and make an angry stride around to the back-This is not a short walk. When I get back there there is a group of people exiting. I tell them to go back inside. They stop in look at me, you know, to see who is talking to them. Okay, I don’t have a problem with that. But this one guy keeps right on walking.
“Sir, I said to go back inside.” Still acts like he does not hear me. “Sir, I said for you to turn around and go back inside! Please, don’t make me come after you!”

“Who me?”

“Yes, you!”

“Well, hold up motherfucker! You don’t have to get all crunk!”

“Well, if you learn to follow instruction, sir! Maybe I wouldn’t have to get all crunk!” I am following them back into the club now.

“Fuck, they need to make up there mother fucking mind!’ he is say…”First they tell us not the leave out the front door, then they don’t want us to leave out the back!”

Are you kidding me? I head right to the DJ booth, because I need to nip this shit in the bud before it gets out of hand. As it stood, inside the club alone we were out number fifteen to one. I instruct the DJ to turn off the music and ask him if the mike works. He turns down the music, hands me the mike and I make my announcement.

“Lady’s and gentle, my name is Sgt. One Man. I am with the Blankity-Blank substation. Let me make something perfectly clear. The main purpose of me and my officers being here is so the ladies from the fire marshal’s officer can see if this location is up to code. We are not here for the patrons. That being said, we have not disrespected anyone inside hear and I will not tolerate anyone in here disrespecting me or any of my officers. So I am going to tell you right now, if you have a friend or if you are standing next to someone with a bad attitude, it would behoove you to keep that person in check; because I promise you that I will only take the actions of one person in her for me to take this bar check to a whole ‘nother level and I will have each and everyone of you checked for warrant and I will send for every paddy wagon we have in this district and start taking people to jail for warrants and public intoxication. This especially goes out to the man who thinks that we need to make up our motherfucking minds. Do we understand each out, up in here? (yes, I did say “up in here”)

“Yes, sir!” from the majority of the patrons.

“Thank you.”

(Okay, this is dragging on, but that is at least half of the reason why I am hoarse).

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Sex Book

2008-07-25T14:20:00.003-05:00

Okay, so I have been thinking about doing a pocket sex book! Seriously, I have this very cool idea about this sex book, which I will illustrate myself. I have had this idea for years, but just have not put it into motion, but now I am semi-motivated to get it off the ground…seeing as I have not done anything creative since I completed the majority of the illustrations on my children’s book.

Anyway, I think that God is trying to tell me something, because today I went to Michaels Design, looking for a candle warmer and one of those large candles, because my house smells like fucking fish. Seriously, it smells like two fish fucking. Have you ever caught the aroma of two fish fucking?

No?

Well, trust me. It ain’t cute. So, this morning these female co-works of mine were talking about candles and scents and shit and how they liked how they made their houses smell and I’m like, “I want my house to smell nice, now that I finally have it clean.” Of course they make jokes about the word “finally”….moving on. Can you lady’s help me or not, because I don’t do candles. Seriously, I can’t make the damn things work. I’ve tried and I just can not get that cool, appeasing smell that others people have when you walk in their homes. Pisses me off. I can’t make potpourri work for my ass either! What’s up with that? They suggest, after taking me around the world and back, that I purchase a candle warmer and one of those large candles in the glass. Cool. I can do that.

Anyway, I go into Michaels, which is a arts and craft store, looking for the candle warmer and candle and of course I head directly to the art supple section. Well, what should my wondering eyes should appear…..Sketchbooks for sale! Hello! And not just any sketchbooks, but nice, hard cover, wire bound sketchbooks, in a variety packet that included: 5 ½ by 8 ½ , 8 ½ by 11 and 11 by 14, for 19.99. Are you kidding me? I almost got an erection, I was so excited.

Then, right next to it there was this other little value pack, with included a Strathmore sketch pad, 5.5 by 12 and two 6 by 6, for a little over seven dollars. I got this just for the wire bound 5.5 by 12 sketch pad. Now the reality is that I have sketchbooks out the ass, some that I have not even used. However, I took this as an omen that God wanted me to get to work on my sex book, or do something with my gift before He takes it away from my ass. And yall know He will.
Anyway, my sex book is a how to book and it will be done complete with commentary and cartoon illustration. My dilemma is how I want the illustrations to look. Do I want them to look more realistic or more cartoonish? I can’t decide. I was originally leaning towards the more cartoonish, stick peopleish look, and had even done some loose sketches of what I wanted the people to look, but I really wasn’t feeling it. So now I am leaning more towards a cute, yet realistic cartoonsih look, but I’m still not sure.

I am thinking that I will start doing the pictures and such, and if I don’t do the book think I can turn them into a Sex Blog. I can’t tell yall the complete idea, because anyone can steal an idea and I think this particular how to sex book will be the first of it’s kind. And if it takes off maybe I can do another one. I was thinking about doing a lesbian sex book and calling it, “Two Fish Fucking”, but I thought it might offend folks. What do you think?

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Letter of Discontent

2008-07-20T16:07:00.002-05:00

Did I ever share with you good people the letter that Sgt. Grumpy Ole' Bastard was refering to that prompted me to call his ass a liar? No? Well, here...Take a gander:

"Just Us"

To my fellow sergeants,

I am using this email to inform you that I am suspending my duties with the bar checks, until further noticed. I made the members of Community Prosecution and the others aware of this in our wrap up meeting this morning. I informed them that I would be passing the torch on to any of you good people who would like to carry on what I started. I think it is a good thing that we are doing, but because of other matters, that in my opinion, are petty, underhanded and somewhat passive aggressive that we have going on here on deep night I’ve decided to focus my attention back to the twenties; at least until we are able to fix the problem that lies deep within our mist. That being said let it also be known that if any of you need me for anything police related, that my services are always available.

I have decided that I will no longer play the game of rookie/senior sergeant. We all have a job to do and that includes being available for both troops and citizens when they call. No more will I be a part of taking a phone call, from anyone, when there are able bodied Sergeants at the front desk that can handle that call. It is unfair to the troops, the citizens and your fellow sergeants for the people staffing the front desk to have to go in search of a sergeant when there is one right in front of them. No more will I jump from supervisor call to supervisor call, when we have another sergeant, who will remain nameless, who talks a good talk, but more often than not will not play an active role and going out into the field to help out his fellow sergeants and troops. No longer will I play apart in the vicious game of he said she said, or any of the other behaviours that I consider to be childish and unprofessional.

For whatever role, if any, that I have played in the slow deterioration of what should be a positive work environment, I apologize. That being said, I reiterate the fact that I am now washing my hands of all of it. I use to think it was the “us against them” mentality that was the problem, but I see now that it is an “us against us” mentality that we are battling. I have seen the enemy and the enemy is us. Well, I don’t want to be the enemy any more.

Peace to you all until we can get back to the business of police work.

That's it, the letter that sparked the fires of hatred against your boy One Man. Yeap, I was smelling my balls, as a supervisor that day, and they smelt delicious.

And this was the nice version. I shared it with my friend, Corny, prior to sending it off; asking him to read it and tell what he thought. He tried to convince me not to send it, but I was like "fuck that", these are thing that need to be said. I did let him talk me into taking out the parts that he thought were too "confrontational". I told him that I wanted the damn thing to be confrontational. Still, I let him talk me into getting rid of some of my more favorite lines that bordered on attacking, but that might have turned this spark into a roaring fire. He actually tired to talk me out of whole second paragraph, but hell, that was the meat and potatoes of the letter.

The reactions to the letter varied. Sgt. Lupe was shocked that I sent it, but she thought it was funny, because I called people out. Sgt. Militant Negro printed out the letter and waited until he could get his thoughts together before he confronted me with it. He didn't think I should have sent it and was insulted by it's tone. I told him that I didn't think that the letter addressed anything that wasn't true and if anyone was offended by it then that said more about them then it did about me. Sgt. White Bread never said anything to me about the letter and we went on with business as usual. And Sgt. Stick Up Ass and Sgt. Grump Ole Bastard just really made a point of avoiding me, which was fine. Sure they have been Sergeant for over twenty years and have a lot of wisdom to impart, but I'm not willing to crawl up their asses to get it (Kobe, tell me how my ass taste). And of course there was the Lt. Elmer Fudd, who I cc'ed a copy of the letter to. After the letter he had a one on one meeting with each and everyone of us, saving me for last. I had to gear my self up for mine, because I was still teetering on the edge of anger black man and the wrong tone would have made me go Rev. Jesse Jackson on his ass. You know what I mean....Using the N-word and cutting off testicles. LOL

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Guess what, I went to church today. Can I get an Amen? Tomorrow I think I will tell you about my encounter with the crazy ass white man this morning. Oh, my gawd!

He Said the N-Word and I Don't Mean "Nutts"

2008-07-18T11:13:00.004-05:00

I’m still trying to understand how a Nigger gonna call a Nigger a Nigger. Especially when said Nigger done went and got all up and arms about the use of the word Nigger in the first place. Then this dumb ass Nigger uses the word Nigger during the break of an already live television newscast! What the fuck? What kind of dumb as Nigger move is that? And let us not forget that this Nigger also officiated the mock burial of the “N” word to begin with. Well, he must have buried it up his ass, because it sure did resurrect itself from his mouth.

I’m trying to understand why we do dumbass, self-destructive bullshit like this! Can’t we just let one of us make that wonderfully, impressive, joyful, giant step forward, without one of us taking twelve, hip-hopping ones back? I mean, fuck. Seriously. FUCK!

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have no problem with Jesse using the “N” word. He’s a Nigger (and if he wasn‘t, he is now). He owns it, so he can use it. But, damn, bruh. Did you really have to use it on broadcast television? Damn, Chicken Little, how dumb are you? I mean, it really takes a true ass Nigger to fuck up the use of the word Nigger!

And then the Nigger has the nerve to say his remarks were taken out of context and that he didn’t realize his mike was on. Motherfucker, did you know you were wearing the mike? That's what I wanna know. Was yo black ass on television? At any point did someone come up to you and say, "Hold on, Rev. Jackson. Let me get that mike off of you so you can have a private conversation?" NIGGER, DON'T NOBODY GIVE A DAMN IF YOU THOUGHT YOUR MIKE WAS ON! Did you know your lips were moving? When they turned on your mike did they turn down your common sense factor? Fuck, bruh, what the hell were you think?

Riddle me this, Batman: What do they call a Nigger that calls another Nigger a Nigger?

A Negrocrite…or is it Reverend? Damn, I forget.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Warning: This post uses the word nigger to the X-effect. If you are in anyway offended by this word, please go back and erase the pass minute or so from your memory, cause you know niggers be tripping.

What Were They Thinking?

2008-07-16T15:52:00.005-05:00

I don’t get it. What the hell was the publisher and editors of the New Yorker Magazine thinking when they decided to make this their July 21st cover? As you can see it depicts Barack and Michelle Obama inside the Oval officer, dressed as terrorist and doing the Barack O’bump. They even complete the image by have a picture of Osama bin Laden hanging over the mantle. Oh, and please don’t miss the American flag burning in the fire place. What the fuck? Seriously, what the fuck?

Now, I am a artist and cartoonist and I love, love, love political cartoons and I can normally get Satire; which is what the magazine’s editor, David Remnick wants us to believe this to be. Well, if it is satire I think it has sadly missed it mark and landed somewhere in the land of tasteless and offensive propaganda. And you are talking to a man who loves the New Yorker, but I don’t get this. I don’t get the underlying hatred that the picture seems to be promoting. Nor do I understand the hints of racism. Well, maybe it is not that I don’t understand those things, it is more that I don’t understand why the New Yorker would be promoting them.

Hell, the editor of the Golfweek got handed his ass, along with his walking papers for putting a hangman’s noose on the cover of their magazine and I wasn’t offended by that shit in the least. I just thought people were being too uptight. And, hey, I am not truly offended by the cover on The New Yorker, per se, I just hate when something is done poorly and this was done poorly.
Let’s look up the word satire, shall we….Satire is defined as the use of wit to criticize behavior; the use of wit, especially irony, sarcasm, and ridicule to criticize faults. This is not what the cover on The New Yorker is doing. What it is doing is fueling an ignorant belief that people have about not only the Obama’s but also Muslim folks in general. In a way it seems to be promoting hatred.
Okay, I get it! I’m no fool, the cover was, or so it claims, to be a satire on all of the ignorant beliefs that people hold true about the Obama’s but once again….The artist missed the mark. They failed. They didn’t know what the hell they were doing…and it could have been done too. I wish I could see the sketches that the artist who submitted this discarded prior to deciding on this one.

To America’s credit, a lot of people both Democratic and Republican were offended by the cover. I like that. Normally the media likes to make it seem that only black folks get all up in arms about shit like this. The fact that so many people took offense to the mess just goes to show you how off the mark the artist was in what he was trying to do.

There are those out there who think that people are afraid to make fun of Obama just because of his race. I hope that is not the case, because if he gets the Presidency I look forward to the Political cartoons. I believe that the problem that a lot of comics are having is that they can’t look past his color and just focus on him as a person. Hell, I can think of a lot of things to poke fun at, about the man, and I like the bastard. Don’t let his race stop you from being funny. Just don’t make his race an issue in the joke. It’s not that hard.

Next time get it right!

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.