Version 2.0

Culture, healing, politics and bullshit - Not necessarily in that order

The general, socio-political and very personal rantings and ravings of a hip hop head from the hood hustling for change... Of himself.

You all know me and are aware that I am unable to remain silent. At times to be silent is to lie. For silence can be interpreted as acquiescence.
—Miguel de Unamuno


Friday, May 23, 2008

Esteem Issues And Real Life

Truth is, maybe it's just time for me to stop talking to myself.

Seeing that I'm almost 40, that means the influence from my generation is clear, concise and blatant, and this is the world I must live in because I and others like myself designed and implemented it.

I would say since May of 2000 I've been on the company of those that have needed my assistance and loved my motivational speech but didn't want me around for much else. The trend continues only because I'm a product of my designed environment. Not that I've been a doormat (I have for some and I've gone a long way emotionally, travel-wise and have even given up my own personal goals, beliefs and sometimes have even done things moralistically wrong to appease folks) for everyone, but this is what living for me feels like right now.

I know where I want to be in life and I speak of doing things to try to get there but it's always the folks, places and things the closest to you that get in your way, and that asks if you made the right decisions on things.

I no longer know if I have.

Blogging is the last thing I want to do among other things, but I still do it because this is the only constant I have going for me right now. I used to never come back to my blog and read things, but now I do. I hit the archives at random and see how low I can go when recalling the past. I'm noticing that my past and my present are pretty much the same as far as overall happiness goes which means that I shouldn't even prepare for the future because it'll be the same shit.

I am no better than anyone and I'm so disappointed in all of us. We all suck and none of us are doing anything to change the suckiness. From politics to personal issues to financial matters, all of the tools we need to make change are right in front of us, but we'd rather live with drama.

At least most of us will look good dying in vain.

I know I will.

But first, I gotta get my hair done.
And I need a manicure.
And I gotta incorporate, get an EIN and then file bankruptcy under my SSN
And get business credit and buy a home
And put a hydrogen filter on my car engine so I can get 45 mpg
Or buy a 1996 Geo Metro using my EIN and business credit
And get a business credit account at Sam's Club
And write off my car payment, up to half on my mortgage and my groceries
And with my savings I'll buy a boat
And use my equity from my expensive home to expand my business
Then file Chapter 11 like Hammer did and tuck 30 mil in a tax shelter
And use my deductible expenses via tax return to get tax lien certificates
And use my 23% interest earned to send my child to a HBCU
Hire my kids to manage my income properties, keeping the 30% property mgmt charges
Get old on my ranch
Dig up old line brothers and laugh at profits made when the frat bought a stake of Microsoft and spun it in the hood by opening up Prometric Training&Testing centers, churning out 19 year old database administrators and software support specialists


I'm currently holding myself back. That'll never happen because...

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Views From The Cheap Seats... And A Message

In response to my most recent post/rant, Terry wrote:

Strange you should bring this up.

My Son is a product of his environment. The only child of a White Father and African-American Mother. As I have said before, literally the ancestry of the Slave and the Slave Owner.

His world was never clouded. He knew the evil that one half of his family inflicted on the other. He knows that not every man has always been pure at heart.

I was proud this year that he decided to attend Morehouse College. However, he has informed me that during the semester he has not always been happy.

Apparently he has experienced a culture gap. When asked the question, "What's up my nigga?" He replied. "Who the hell you talking to? No one in my family has been a nigga in 30 years."

He told me that although Morehouse was a fine institution and he was "getting along", he felt that many had the "BBB's" (busy being black). He was depressed that so many complained, but did little to change the circumstances of the day. That he had never seen his race be so full of excuses and doubt for who, and what, they are.

"I only see a false sense of pride here Dad", he said. "We are only a short distance from where one of our greatest Alumni is buried and no one understands what REALLY happened during his life. I mean, we call each other nigga's Dad. I might have expected that back in the streets at home, but not here. Never here."

It appears my young Son has learned far more than I paid for.

Perhaps the old men are getting younger. We can always pray such is true.

And 5 days ago he shot me this:

Well, you know me...I mean you know I had something to say about it.

I consider myself a very lucky man. Unlike most white folks, I've seen the African-American community up close and personal. It kinda goes with the territory when you're married to a Black Woman for 22 years.

There is no doubt in my mind that a double standard exists in EVERY aspect of our society. And that double standard has almost systematically bread the African-American community of today.

It is a vicious circle that seems to be hard to break. I see it in my own Son who is only half black, but that half often puts him in a category that he would admittedly not like to be in.

Despite mine and his Mother's efforts to show him a different way to think, I see in him the moronic ideals our predominately white society places in front of him. Often, I feel like I'm pushing a rock up hill with him, and the hill just keeps getting higher.

Here's the sad truth however. I actually have an easier time with him than a Father would if he were Black. My skin opens doors that might not ordinarily be opened for him. But often, even that is not enough.

I am not now nor have I ever been a fan of any organized religion. I find that religion is the great evil in the world. That's right, I said it. More wars and people have died in the name of religion than ANY self imposed act in the history of our planet.

But I will say that most of White America has a very elitist attitude when it comes to God. Their white skinned, blonde haired Jesus is a little bit better than the dark skinned, Aramaic man Jesus really was.

After all, man was created in God's image. That would have had to be a White man right? - Yeah right. ( he said with a sarcastic sneer)

The double standard and the hidden message that a Black Man will never be good enough will continue. And it will not end when African-Americans begin to feel better about them selves. It will only end when that happens, AND White America begins to understand that they do not have a leg up on people of color. The sense of superiority, (and that's what it is, make no mistake about it), will have to stop!

No President can change that.

A very crisp and great view from The Cheap Seats... (I wonder if he's open?)

And then yesterday Alyson said to me:

"The greatest tool of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed." - Stephen Biko.

Those who try to "free" others end up disappearing in the night or die of "accidental" deaths.

Maybe my views are valid but pot stirring...
Maybe I should just stand down.

You read my blog. You may not agree with me. What do you think?

Friday, May 16, 2008

Old Surly Bastard

Call me Old Man Johnson.

I have to be, even though I don't mean to be. I'm drop kicking 40 in the ass and I am so disappointed in us as a people...

I still go around and read all of y'alls blogs on the regular. So much talent, passion and desire out there and that makes me get all Valentine's Day inside but...

I know waaay of too many of us (and I ain't strictly talking about black folk here) that choose not to speak, don't wanna, haven't been taught by those that barely escaped the 50's and 60's or are put in a position where they are censored. I'm talking about speaking on it. Life. Happiness free of racism, sexism, freedom to choose and practice whatever we like and just freedom of some damn enjoyment.

My great-grandfather was a slave's son. And I knew him.

I spoke to him.

He taught me things.

I was amazed just being in his presence.

He was born right outside slavery after emancipation happened. He worked, learned, got married, headed up a household and made the babies that made me thru Jim Crow, segregation, the Klan era, the Civil Rights Movement, the New Deal, the free living 60's, J.J, Themla and em' on 'Good Times' in the 70's and even the beginning of the Hip Hop era with Big Bad Hank, Master Gee and SugarHill into the end of the 80's. He was 100 and some change (records were altered and destroyed) when he passed and I was pissed because although I was a teenager in high school, Alzheimer's took his last few years and I had just really started to pay attention.

I miss Alfred Harris. He was my mother's mother's father and he was there for most of the struggle. He wasn't afraid to speak on it and demand what he knew was rightfully his.

Most of us these days are.

Afraid, that is.

The constitution of this country gives us all the right to choose and cannot discriminate based on these choices. The reason we still live here is because it's damn sure better than Darfur. There is no back to Africa because we built this and history does not teach it, so millions of kids outside of the black community do know know that everything from the light bulb to outpatient surgery to the traffic lights we run (and even the iPod) would have never made it to existence without the hands, passion and minds of a black person.

So we're treated like three fifths.
Issues are polarizing.
We are prey to the criminal justice system.
I am a common thug and my wife is a whore.
We always complain and only want handouts.

We are better than this but legend, entertainment and cultural conditioning would have us to believe that we are less than even though we collectively are the 9th largest earning nation on the planet.

And to most average Americans Afro-centricity is un-American.

And we call ourselves niggers.
Our women identify themselves as bitches.
We demean ourselves in front of our children.
We go to school and pick up our kids with our titties out.
Tats showing...
Argue with teachers over the care of our child and then neglect them at home.
Your kid's teacher is probably a weed head and drinks a lot because you devote 40+ hours to work and don't even check shortie's homework.
Some sisters will never address their absent fathers and the uncles and cousins that have touched them... and take this out on honest brothers.
Some brothers can't seem to grow the fuck up and chase pussy all day in an attempt to launch conquest over either not being made whole by daddy or being a bitch-assed man because of unresolved issues with mommy.
Most entreprenegroes invest in non-equitable items (rims, cars and jewelry that lose value by the second) and let gentrification gobble up the precious hood they represent.
Most good women fall for good for nothing thug wannabes
Most good gay men fall for flip floppers that can't commit or just wanna play house because they're afraid to take on society as a gay male couple.
Most good gay women fall for and date themselves when they need solid, firm yang to their ying.
Most men want to marry their mothers and fuck over good women to find that lost place of nutriment.
Most children get lost in the Matrix because mom and dad are busy working or clubbing and are afraid to ask for help because then they become failures in the eyes of the family.
Most parents aren't even grown yet and think because Snoop says 'bitch' it's okay and then get the hammer dropped on their ass when their child says it and acts like a little bitch.
Most bitches aren't women.
Nothing is off limits.
No one commits anymore.
Ignorance is the new badge of courage, but one is well versed on gossip, rumor and innuendo.
Most of us don't have the internet or a fast enough speed due to cost and our children, communication, education and being up on current events suffer but can find out what Mariah and Nick Cannon are doing RIGHT NOW...
How many of us own property and pay taxes on it?
How many of us have a real opinion on the political issues based on research and participation?
Where were you in Jena?
Lima, OH?
NYC in protest of the Sean Bell verdict?

History is happening right fucking now and I refuse to be the part my great-grandchildren shake their head about on the re-tell.

My personal opinion is that most of y'all don't even know you're free, but I still love you.

Scared negroes.

Don't ask to borrow anything, you might it bring it back the way I lent it.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

When Change Is Just The Stuff Jingling In Your Cup...

I have always made attempts to make positive change in my life.

I listened to my elders to make sure mistakes from the past weren't made
I've surrounded/eliminated folks based on the amount of change needed for my overall success
I've traveled and put myself in places and have broken bread with folks for that same success
I keep tweaking my plan, criticizing myself more than others
I never turn the console off, I save the game and try not to hit the reset button
I keep learning

In my years of being here in this life, in this moment and surrounded by these people, places and things I have to admit that I've grown tired of certain folk and their ways. The majority is scared and they don't want to make change to make things better. To them, things are fine the way they are.

I read the comments online versions of the major newspapers let the casual reader make and if I were never convinced before I am truly a believer that I live in the most hateful, racist demonic society in the history of the world. I'm sure that if a surf was resurrected he or she would argue. I'm also sure the spirit of a dead slave (Kemetian or of African descent) is looking at me right now as I write this with their lips twisted, but... This has to be true or a whole lotta' Americans hide behind a net persona and talk a gang of ish but...

What would spark this type of behavior, even if those words, opinions and criticisms are false?

The heart never lies.

The fact that I live in a so-called community where every black woman, including my other half is angry and condescending when speaking of 'the black man' disappoints me. I could beg all of my so-called sisters to not be angry at me or to be a little patient because the past is not indicative of future performance but that falls on deal ears. I'll always be marginalized by my own first before anyone else, and that is an immense pain that causes discomfort and creates distance.

The truth of the matter is that most of my brethren form line bruz to the cat on the other bar stool wishes in vain that our sisters weren't so preoccupied with mentally and emotionally paying us back for something some of our good for nothing fathers, uncles and grandfathers did to their mothers, aunts and grandmas way back when.

Which leads me to white folks.

Wait, Let me get back to them in a minute.

I have at least two handfuls of black men that I know that are punk-assed do nothing ass pseudo hard working, womanizing ass 'brothers' raised by either a single black woman or in some cases actually comes from a two parent household where mother dearest ain't nothing but an unsatisfied bitch of a woman (attitude wise, and these days she admits this!) that feels some sense of entitlement from the baller section of niggerdom and fusses about the lack of baller-brother participation all the damn time but never realizes that they either never tried to go after said ballers in our community because they thought they were less than (based on how they were raised), or just settled for the first decent cat that actually cared or gave a damn about them so in that case, the black man in that home is not head of household, he is just a snake-bitten figurehead with no equal power based on the both of them settling instead of spiritually or emotionally achieving equal ness in being yolked. The hate and self-loathing is evident and a black man is raised in that environment devoid of spirituality and respect for the black man or woman in general.

And you wonder why that young man goes out into the world as a womanizing ass, underachieving, good for nothing punk?

Now imagine what kind of lady little princess turns out to be when she gets grown. Just throw a dub in there with the singles as she slides down the pole.

Looking for love in all the wrong places because punk-ass parents raise punk ass kids. This is my peer pool.

Now, back to white folks.

Why must I have to explain everything to you? You already understand because it is you that changes the rules as the game goes on. The Rev. Wright situation proved to me that whenever you wanted to make change, you just blissfully romp in your ignorance and use external forces (see: the media) to make things seem like we made the change and the truth is that we're still getting pennies and scraps from the table. Black folk came here and were not christian. We learned everything Jesus from your evangelists and in the days of slavery, black ministers had to receive hands on training from the white church so the words and phrase used in sermons and such were to the point where we knew we were not free.

So when white scholars introduced liberation theory at seminaries across the world why wouldn't our own scholar ministers flock to these institutions in an attempt to properly apply said theory to the black and brown masses once we got to freedom's door? Even though we are STILL written off as three fifths of a human being in our grand master documents of law and justice, the majority continues to mention that we are free. The bible and q'uran also mentions that all of God's children are free and black ministers, imams and rabbi have been able to for a couple hundred years now have been preaching and teaching this. Hell, Pat Robertson, Billy Graham and John Hagee preach and teach their own version of liberation theory through the body of Christ and no one says nothing of the hatred, separation and judgement taught by these so-called gentlemen but when Jeremiah does it...

You act like you don't know and get offended.

So I ask the 'hard working, working class white person':

Is it okay to worship your god as we were taught, or is there a double standard in which my people and I are forced to live sub standard in every way, shape and form in this country? Your numbers are dwindling. You are afraid to let someone that does not look like you take the helm because you're afraid that you won't get the opportunity to get it back. You're afraid of losing your land, jobs and money, and you don't want to talk about the methods, ways and rules used and established by your ancestors that have us in this state because selected memory has you blissfully ignorant.

Keep pandering to others outside your borders when your own needs help.
Keep ignoring the Mexican and African descendant.
Keep hording and hiding history and religion.
Keep telling us that the past is not indicative of the present/future and lying about it.
The end result won't be pretty

I live in world of double standards, with people that use policy and religion to perpetrate fear and folks that hate themselves so much that they will raise entire generations to fail. I want so badly to be free but I live in a barrel with a bunch of crabs...

Live in a land where the goal line moves on first and goal...

And spirituality and religion is used to hold people inside a fence of fear.

All folks (black, white, Latin or Asian) aren't this way but the vast majority of folks let fear, ignorance, hatred and lack of spiritual depth hold us to the substandard. And I am pressed to improve myself to achieve within this realm.

I'll never get it right.

If that's the case, I'm on my way to being divorced, lonely, penniless and separated from God with bastard children that hate me and then themselves as well as those that don't look like them.

At least I'll be a part of a voting block that'll elect the next president. That's all I'm worth, right?

Fuck change.


Funny... I spent the weekend in Tulsa, Oklahoma and the weather was spectacular. So how come 17 people in less than a ten mile radius ended up dead due to bad weather?

And why did Chicago crime take a break when I left?

And why is Michael Vick convicted and in jail when Sean Bell and Tarika Wilson's murderers roam the streets free and without a hand slap?

Also, why is there emphasis on a primary election today when a political party is crumbling? Glad I'm not a Democrat.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

The Power Of Intent

I know I promised back in April that I'd blog every day in May for some reason or another, but I felt like reneging on that.

There is so much on my mind and running thru that I could do something on the daily, but most times (since last fall) I feel like if I share too much then occasional lurkers, haters and such could meet me at the corner store with a mental list of groceries they'd think I'd buy based on old habit, shit I ate in front of them back in the day... Stuff like that.

I stay guarded these days. Even with my other half, I've developed this habit of only telling her things either as I do them or when I'm on the brink because trust is built over time and folks will pull away even when you're pushing them with their permission. Not that we don't plan or budget for bills and such or sit and enjoy each other, I just am not in the mode of telling folks what my next move is strategically because most times it freezes them up and my shit becomes compromised. Remember the corner store thingee in that paragraph above.

Fear, hate, hateration, mistrust, doubt, habit and silence are all killers in the eyes of folks that dream and try to act upon them. I have given in to this fact that this is the world I live in and there is nothing much I can do but live in that realm. See, I'm not afraid to announce my shortcomings to the world because I know that I am not alone. It's the fact that there are a bunch of slightly overweight, grown-ass men with old people ailments at a young age that pay taxes and abide the law every day that have personal issues with folks right in their own homes and some abroad, living nicely but have a handful of debts over their heads that go out and work every day and deal with loved ones and strangers that have problems worse than theirs that just won't speak the fuck up and acknowledge their own shit so for me there is no one else in common to peer up with so in announcing plans and such I stand by myself.

I am unfortunately alone.

So there is a lot that I cannot share.

So I don't.

I could rant and rave over politics, sports and women like most cats that blog do but I don't. I'm not trying to differentiate myself from anyone or stand out. There are a lot of cats out there that have witty droppings or are unwittingly posting for pussy that have a fan base. I have been accused of using this forum in the relentless pursuit of the poi poi and at times I've been forced to prove otherwise. That ain't the reason I'm here.

I've been doing this shit right here since 2000 when I ended a decade and then some relationship with with my high school sweetheart in some vain attempt to purge my inner demons and find out why my thang is so dysfunctional. I've owned five domain names and blogged under three (brownblogger being the latter), the other two I had to shut down because they just weren't supposed to exist in partnership with certain situations and people and I still feel like this is the most cathartic thing for me to do even though I hate doing it these days.

I've had folks stalk my blog and also study it in order to get the right answers in order to get close to me only to ostracize me and make me a villain in their lives. I've had women and men email me with all sorts of offers business, sexual, fraternal and otherwise just to gain my favor. With the exception of three people, I've refused to even hear most out. I've gotten emails, text messages and voice mails from those that had ulterior motive thru their actions to get me to validate themselves, even though the only thing I ever hoped to accomplish with blogging is to gain understanding of my own self. Some of those situations had led me to hate a few, even with me going as far as damn near providing actions towards and wishing them death.

One thing you do not know about me that I'm going to tell is that there was a launching point of my expressive self. I was graduating the eighth grade and even though I had a daddy in my stepfather who met my mom somewhere in my fourth year of life, Ma Dukes kept telling me of my biological father who fell off the edges of the planet with the help of my grandmother shortly after I was born. I was told how I look like him, acted like him and how my shape and hue was just like this cat. So of course one day when Pops was at work and I was getting yet another report about this cat she called him.


Now I'm a grown-ass man and I understand the paradigm of relationships between baby daddy slash baby momma as it relates to the trust factor of a particular captain save a hoe or him and what that does for the normalization of rent and food costs per capita in the Midwest circa the late twentieth century. What I didn't understand is how quickly she used a rotary phone and got dude on the other end and had him talking to me when I know that my step dad was hitting it with tenacity enough to have my mother sprung (we supported his drug habit for years) and manufacture my younger sibs on one income in the 70's minus Bookman, Willona and Penny. Balderman Davis did make appearances every fourth episode in fulfillment of his CBS contract per the actor's guild and was able to keep his open schedule abstract from city business to show off his favorite family outside the projects which netted us valuable TV time as well as free cheese and powdered milk on the regular.

Okay, so my mother was still in love with my biological, no problem. What I got over the phone was this manufactured concern and advice on how to get thru high school and a tip or two on women. I said three or four words and made sure I never called him sir, hung up the phone when asked to speak back to my mother, looked at her and said: "I already have a father, fuck this guy." I walked out the room and it was just a few years ago that she tried to invoke the name of dude in front of me when she stopped herself short of doing so because she remembered my expression.

From that point I felt the need to let folks know from the jump what was going on in my mind because I knew where I wanted to be and how in certain situations and with certain folk. Most times it works but sadly there are times when me expressing myself just doesn't resonate with whomever.

Being the asshole know-it-all that tells you so has never hurt me. One of the many valuable lessons I learned in the military is how most folks will use you and all that you have for their own emotional gain. War isn't about strategy or death for that matter. War is the act of using folks, situations and places for the simple justification of one's existence and the padding of their soul so they can die in peace knowing that their shit actually meant something to them and the defense of that theory. This is what most people do to you, so I prepare for that shit by waking up every morning and knowing it will happen to me in some way, shape or form. Knowing that it takes an asshole know-it-all to tell you so that you'll understand hurts immensely. I tire of playing that role but I am required to do so damn near daily. It ain't a blog persona I play online, trust me, when I say that I'm the asshole with the painful reality check knowing that fear and pain controls what you do.

Too bad it has taken real time spent offline for some to find out. And they still do nothing cause' they're scared, live in fear and are comfortable in performing non-action.

I just wanna be me and I'll always express myself. I'm not required to post it online every day. Dr. Wayne Dwyer pushes the opinion that the power is in the intent and most know of my intentions so from this point (again) I will not push myself onto you, who ever you are even though I never have. You have to choose between the red pill or blue. I cannot apologize in advance if your experience is not what you expect so choose wisely.

Until then I'll keep expressing myself the way I wanna. I do own the domain name, I just need the intention to do so and the time even though I remain guarded and feel like I can trust no one. Sometimes I ask myself why I come back and post at all.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Doctor, Doctor

I didn't feel guilty as I sat across from her. This was the same woman I stripped in front of a handful of weeks earlier confidently asking about medications, fasting and such. I was surprised how things went that day, I just never knew how this so-called non date would affect me in coming home.

I was in Houston and I was in a funk. I thought I was where I was supposed to be and I appreciated every bit of it. A month or two earlier I was in Chicago trudging through the winter months going to a job I didn't want any part of while keeping my ex-girlfriend's couch warm and putting up with her boyfriend. Don't ask how I got there, the ex and I figured out right after she cheated on me how we were perfect and better off as friends than we were lovers. After getting back into Chicago her couch was available, so I took it and crashed there for a moment.

I was trying to get back into the trucking industry after suffering an injury to my shoulder. When going through the application process, the fed gives a mighty gauntlet to get over in order to drive and I failed the physical. I had pneumonia but worse I was diabetic. There was someone that was showing me interest down in Texas and I asked if I could come there and get some help getting back on my feet and she said yes. I got a free ticked to better weather and what I though would be better environment for me employment-wise and creatively.

Neither happened, and most of it had to do with where I wanted to be.

Houston was what I expected coming from the south side of Chicago and getting employed was a challenge. The environment provided by my host and her friends was exactly as advertised, but by the time I got to the end of the summer things began to fall apart. I went to the Houston VA and there was another sister really eager to assist me in getting back on point, and that was unexpected.

It took damn near two months to get an appointment with the VA and I did not miss my initial appointment after getting notification in the mail. I knew I was in for an EKG, a stress test and about ten other challenges as well as me knowing that I would get poked, prodded and would be giving up blood so we can get a plan in action. When I got to the strip down and put this on portion of the evaluation I knew some old, white cat would stroll in and lecture me about too many lipids, the downfall of red meats and such, so why did I freeze up when a sister about my age came walking into the room and identified herself as my evaluating doctor?

Our conversation was long and detailed. She made me tell her everything without even asking. Here I was half naked and overweight, hair standing on top of my head after running on a treadmill and all she could do was look me in my eye and tell me what I needed to do to get back on track health-wise so we could get together and do a little something and me not die from her putting it on me.

It never dawned to me that she was a doctor and saw dudes much worse off than me at the VA and I had some sort of redeeming quality that had her interested in me particularly. It was she who extended her number and asked if I would be cool having dinner with her as she handed me prescriptions for an anti-depressant, high blood pressure medication, blood thinners and aspirin. She also advised me that as long as I had stress, high blood pressure and was on the mood altering pills that I would have side effects other than the ones I was having before I started taking the drugs.

Fast forward a few weeks later and here we were at a hotel right off downtown and I was nervous. I caller her after a few weeks of arguments, emotional ups and downs and me complaining about being in Texas and me practically being dared to leave and change my situation on my own by my host. Here I thought I was going to hook up with this doctor and that she could help me take the edge off and get back on track sexually, that wasn't even the case. Our conversation went from one extreme to the other and I was amazed in this woman's patience and eagerness to assist.

She asked me the most outlandish questions, from her initial amazement that I was actually taking the drugs she prescribed to how things like how my libido and circulation would never be the same. She questioned my motives about being in Houston and asked me if I was in love with another sister from Texas that I had been in constant contact with for a year and some change previous to me coming there. She challenged me to follow my heart and leave the man made chemicals alone and also convinced me to go to Chicago alone for vacation.

She knew that I was damaged goods and had painted myself in a corner in being where I was across the table from her, but she also dug me like an old soul record and knew as long as the right DJ came along the needle would be put in the right grooves...

"I did her, not just to say that I did it
But I'm committed, but so many niggaz hit it

That shes just not the same lettin' all these groupies do her

I see niggaz slammin' her, and takin' her to the sewer

But imma take her back hopin' that the shit stop

Cause who I'm talkin' bout y'all is hip-hop

Common - 'I Used To Love H.E.R.

It turned out to be a short lived affair... She knew what my ailments were and still gave me play. She recommended that I stop taking the drugs and follow my heart and deal with my physical shortcomings holistically, and I did. She told me to go home and be around folks that wanted to be around me and stop playing with my own heart and others. She knew that things would only rotate between us a few times so she told me to make the phone calls that would change my life and I did. From the time that we shared dinner at a non-descript restaurant in Houston, Texas to the time I went 'home' for a weeks vacation last year, all of the things she told me would happen did.

I doubted the shit out of her, but I giver her credit because she knew.

She emailed me the other day and asked if I was enjoying Chicago, like she knew I was here. She didn't, so I replied back to her and told her the wife and I are adjusting to the big city well.

That was the first time I got only a smiley face in the body of an email.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

A Scared Negro Will Get You Killed

So let me catch up...

Now you have to choose.

Straight from the pages of the Willie Lynch handbook, you let someone else dictate to you who is valid and who isn't via sound clips and because we have a solid history of explaining our suffrage to master one of the choices has to explain himself?


Wait... both choices had to explain themselves...

Wait, only one of em' is running.

The black candidate had to explain himself AND throw the distraction under the proverbial bus because none of "them" liked the preacher's expressions because it was scary talk.

Problem is, as the preacher talked everyone had something negative to say about the candidate, but


Normally, when a person is "talking out the side of his neck", the powers that be challenges that person's crazy talk and charges them as a liar because we all know that crazy talk is nothing but lies, but...

I guess Jeremiah Wright was spewing truths from the pulpit last weekend like a crazy man... And John Hagee never said anything that holds John McCain liable or nothing that Bill Clinton did or said means nothing to Hillary's candidacy.

Interesting on how certain folks never have to explain.

What this boils down to is the majority doesn't like the minority bringing up its past because the truth indeed hurts and the minority candidate has to distance himself from all things minority in order for the majority to feel comfortable enough until he or she is fully committed to living in the most extreme house niddardly ways, actions and attitude.

And I'm supposed to sing "God Bless AMerikkka?"

If you let yet another distraction from Fox, CNN, MSNBC, ABC, CBS, NBC and other corporate owned media outlets and TV soothsayers like O'Reily, Limbaugh, Beck, Cooper, Dobbs and the rest of em' sway you from the issues and Carl Rove your ass into scary politics mode then you are a scared negro regardless what ethnic group you emanate from.

A scared negro will get you killed.

Fellow blog reader, you have the power of the entire universe in front of you at your fingertips in the internet. You feel scared? Okay, here's a little homework assignment from The Brown Blogger:

Prove Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright wrong.

Bring me enough evidence to totally prove him 100% wrong in his theory, truths and his account of history and I will join the scared negro bandwagon and salute the same flag I defended in wartime with no reservations.

I will also take everything my grandparents and parents taught me along with all that Rev Wright, Dr. Claud Anderson and Dr.John Henrik Clarke taught me as well as other scholars from the black, African and native communities and flush it away as utter bullshit.

Since today is liberation day, I challenge you to liberate yourself from the spin and either educate yourself or re-affirm yourself in your own truth in the least.

I also need you to ask yourself why my community has to remain divided over nonsense, why we must continue to explain ourselves to "working class, small-town Americans" and why everyone fears the day that a black man or a woman will hold power over the executive branch of this country.

I also challenge you to answer why black folks in 2008 think they have made it and choose not to fight.

From Sean Bell to the Jena 6, from Rodney King to the federal case exonerating James Earl Ray from the assassination of Dr. King and officially calling it a government conspiracy to commit murder, from Hurricane Katrina to Barack Obama being not black enough, too black, a Muslim, not experienced and now not electable based on what someone else is saying...

Damn near 500 years of being treated like a piece of crap in America from slavery to redlining, to lynchings to overt and institutionalized racism, from being given a God to serve and then having to explain liberation theology to the captors, from lack of credit financially and in the forming of American history to our current living conditions...

Most of y'all don't wanna fight because you'll lose your internet connection.

Or rims
or sub standard paying job
or position in church
or something or another that'll make you feel that you no longer have status or material things.

And to think that your parents uncles and aunts... Grandparents and their peers would take to the streets in order to get free just to get hosed, beaten and attacked by dogs.

And we collectively waste the opportunity and are still marginalized.

I guess I'm going to die soon because there are a lot of scared negroes regardless of their color or background. That saying is from back in the day and it still holds true:

A scared negro will get you killed.

I live amongst a bunch of scared punks that know not how to fight and that have accomplished nothing.

Happy May Day. Enjoy your fight.