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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-One Man's Opinion. Peace

When Life Hand's You Lemons

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

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

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

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

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

Every Decade Or So...

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

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

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

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

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

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Gov. Paterson Ain't No Punk!

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.