It's one of those days. I'm feeling lonely, sad and blue. Sounds like the beginning verse of a tacky country song. I know, but I'm at a loss right now and I promised myself that in order to move forward with my life, in order to prove that I can make it as a writer, I had to write every day.
So that didn't turn out so well. However, I'm turning over a new leaf. No more woolgathering. I am going to just write. Let's call this a stream of consciousness type piece, shall we?
So...I'm at work. I know, not a very wise admission of me but for the record, it's a quiet day, and if I had work to be doing at the moment rest assured I'd be doing it. Instead, I'm sitting here by my lonesome, listening to my colleagues banter about restaurants they love to go to (which I've been to, and I can tell you that contrary to their ignorant and uninformed oppinions, all suck!)
Fine, I'm being a hater, but I don't care...I'm going to whine, I'm going to complain,I'm going to bitch, and I'm going to cry until I get my way. Hey...that sounds like the beginning of another pop hit!
I'm truly wasting my time and talent in my current vocation.
On to other news: I hate that all I can hear is whispering and giggling while I'm stuck back here in Siberia and nobody ventures back here to include me in the conversation, yet I guarantee that if I were to walk over to some body's cube and start whispering and giggling about random stupid bullshit, purposely excluding people, I bet that they would come over and want to join the party. This place sucks.
I better go before I start embarrassing myself. In fact, it's time for me to start playing the pity card. I'm going to wander pathetically past every one's office with a mournful look on my face. Some of my more sympathetic colleagues may beckon me into their offices offering me a seat. I may or may not accept. Depends on who asks me. If I accept the invitation, I will slump into a chair and most likely I will be asked the question, "What's wrong?" (Everybody loves gossip-and judging by the look on my face, they will figure I will give them something to talk about) And to this question, I will reply:
I'm fine! Why????
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
My Humble Opinion-Part 2
I just read this article in the New York
I responded to the article and some of the things that were said about hip hop and capitalism and I got to thinking (as I usually do about these things...)
I responded to the article and some of the things that were said about hip hop and capitalism and I got to thinking (as I usually do about these things...)
Let me preface this piece by saying this: I don't hate hip hop and I certainly don't hate capitalism-I certainly benefit from, and plan to continue benefiting from this great system. I'm an American. Also, I am a product of hip hop culture. It has earned its place in American culture. And I'll admit, I shake my booty with the best of em' when I hear a Li'l Wayne joint; Hip hop was a movement that brought the plight of poor Black America to the forefront and gave invisible citizens a voice.
What I do hate is this:
Hip hop has become a multimillion dollar industry and it has made many people very rich. Herein lies the paradox: Not enough is done to speak out against a "ghetto culture," which certainly sells records, but does nothing to promote the cultural, economic and social upheaval of a stigmatized race.
Please excuse my generalization here: I'm well aware that not every single rapper today speaks of violence, misogyny or is anti-establishment, but money making hip hop today demeans and denigrates a people who have for hundreds of years have been fighting against being demeaned and denigrated.
Please excuse my generalization here: I'm well aware that not every single rapper today speaks of violence, misogyny or is anti-establishment, but money making hip hop today demeans and denigrates a people who have for hundreds of years have been fighting against being demeaned and denigrated.
A good friend of mine from the Tdot just told me there have been a slew of killings in Toronto last month. Here is what infuriates me: Canadian Blacks do not share a gangster history or culture with the United States
The ghettos of theUnited States
Hence the reason for this diatribe. I find it infuriating because regardless of what anyone says, or how politically correct we claim to be, black people-"niggas," are ruining it for Black people.
The ghettos of the
Hence the reason for this diatribe. I find it infuriating because regardless of what anyone says, or how politically correct we claim to be, black people-"niggas," are ruining it for Black people.
Even with an Harvard educated, black president in the White House, we still listen to music that celebrates the "n-word," glorifies violence and demeans women, and this led me to a whole host of issues that we complain about but serve to keep us repressed, mentally, slave mentality) economically, (As Manning Marable says in the article, black people are the only people who buy what isn't even marketed to them) socially (to succeed is to ell out) and even physically. (Obesity)
Yes, slavery happened, and yes, racial discrimination and segregation are tragic episodes in American history. No, African Americans did not receive reparations, but we neglect to acknowledge that many of us pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps -(check out all of your successful Black entrepreneurs from Madame CJ Walker to Jay Z. (See KKK excerpt at the end of this piece)
Yes, slavery happened, and yes, racial discrimination and segregation are tragic episodes in American history. No, African Americans did not receive reparations, but we neglect to acknowledge that many of us pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps -(check out all of your successful Black entrepreneurs from Madame CJ Walker to Jay Z. (See KKK excerpt at the end of this piece)
Ultimately we are responsible for our own destinies, and many of us are our own worst enemies. Jay Z and the other successful rappers or entertainers who have made it out of the projects know this-( I consistently refer to Jay Z because this spiel is derived from the article about him and his book) and they are millions of dollars away from the ghetto. In fact some of these moguls won’t allow pant-sagging “niggas” to enter their establishments. Our rappers-turned-moguls know they would never go back to a gangsta lifestyle (no matter how “real you keep it,”) where you are one incident away from losing your freedom, your millions or your life.
What part of the game is that?
Walking around in public, with pants belted around your fucking knees because their sagging so low they won't stay up.(it takes everything in me not to take my own belt off and start beating these kids with their exposed behinds). How in the hell can you command respect from anybody looking like you just escaped the penitentiary? It kills me too, because a lot of these "play dumb" kids are extremely intelligent with bright futures ahead of them, but they have to rep the "ghetto."
Or this...
entering a public place such as a subway car, or a restaurant, or even on the damn street where white folks are present, yelling "NIGGA" blah blah blah.."NIGGA"...blah blah blahhh... he aint' a real NIGGA yo-if he was a real NIGGA he would have blah blah blah !" I feel like crying when I hear this-you will never hear any other race refer to themselves derogatorily in public-every ethnic and racial group has a slur to refer to one another by-why is it they all choose to use "nigga"? This is because we don't respect ourselves and do not expect others to.
I have never been more offended by the use of that term then when it's used by my own people.
There is no excuse for this behavior. But then again...
a lot of these kids come from low-income households and neighborhoods where this type of attitude is prevalent. It is how their friends talk. It's in their music, it's a way of life for them, and they don't see anything wrong with it. These kids attend poorly performing public schools where this behavior is not strictly discouraged. Kids wearing "do rags" on their heads, jeans either too tight or too lose--you get the point.
I worked at a public school that is currently being considered for closing because of its poor academic record. Classes are overcrowded, and they lack the resources to purchase items like computers, or enough text books for each student to take home. The buildings are old and dilapidated, and some of them truly resemble jail cells-complete with metal detectors and wands. Schools in low income neighborhoods do not receive the same funding as schools in richer neighborhoods.
a lot of these kids come from low-income households and neighborhoods where this type of attitude is prevalent. It is how their friends talk. It's in their music, it's a way of life for them, and they don't see anything wrong with it. These kids attend poorly performing public schools where this behavior is not strictly discouraged. Kids wearing "do rags" on their heads, jeans either too tight or too lose--you get the point.
I worked at a public school that is currently being considered for closing because of its poor academic record. Classes are overcrowded, and they lack the resources to purchase items like computers, or enough text books for each student to take home. The buildings are old and dilapidated, and some of them truly resemble jail cells-complete with metal detectors and wands. Schools in low income neighborhoods do not receive the same funding as schools in richer neighborhoods.
While the kids were coming to school and going to classes, as they were supposed to by law-they were still reading below grade level, and most would not graduate with their class. There was an apathy among students and teachers that was simultaneously infuriating and heartbreaking.
Even with after-school tutoring and workshops designed to improve literacy, impart life-skills, such as time-management, self-respect and other skills to improve the quality of education with voracity and could recite every vulgar, homophobic and deragotory lyric effortlessly. So, why should they give a crap about a diploma when their home-grown heros made it without one.
If I had a nickel for every time I heard a kid tell me his cousin knew so-and so-rapper and so-and so-rapper was going to "put him on", I would not be writing this blog. I'd buy an island right next to the one Jay Z bought for Beyonce-chillin! I wouldn't have to worry my head with all of these issues which have plagued us since
emancipation. And yet, the saga continues...
Even with after-school tutoring and workshops designed to improve literacy, impart life-skills, such as time-management, self-respect and other skills to improve the quality of education with voracity and could recite every vulgar, homophobic and deragotory lyric effortlessly. So, why should they give a crap about a diploma when their home-grown heros made it without one.
If I had a nickel for every time I heard a kid tell me his cousin knew so-and so-rapper and so-and so-rapper was going to "put him on", I would not be writing this blog. I'd buy an island right next to the one Jay Z bought for Beyonce-chillin! I wouldn't have to worry my head with all of these issues which have plagued us since
emancipation. And yet, the saga continues...
So...who really is to blame? This is after all, America. We choose liberty or we choose death...
And those are my thoughts on the subject. Here's the interesting KKK piece-I received from my friend Craig in Toronto... Interesting food for thought:
The KKK leader stepped to the podium, his hood lowered
around his shoulders and a look of disgust on his face. He said, "Sorry guys but this will be our last meeting; we're going out of business."
A member stood up in back. "But why sir?"
The leader sighed, "Well, Reverend, the Blacks are doing
a better job getting rid of themselves than we ever did, so we are no
longer needed."
There were rumblings and protest. The leader raised his
hand to silence the Klan members, and said, "Their rap music says more
vile things about Black women than we ever thought of."
The members grudgingly nodded in approval. The Imperial
Dragon continued: "And their women write books and make songs that
demean black men better than my two speech writers ever could, looking
down at two men seated in front who lowered their heads.
"They shoot each other constantly ", he continued;" And
as a group, they spend a huge amounts of money on cars, liquor, that
stuff they call bling bling, and the proliferation of rap music -- as
they talk about all that in their magazines -- and nobody needs us to
talk about how a lot of their sorry butts keep playing the race and
victim cards while complaining that other groups are surpassing them in
economic development and supposedly getting more attention in schools.
Hell, they even support a so-called "Black Hair" DVD that a white man is
making money on, in four sequels at $20.00 a pop, talking about how
Koreans have taken over the "black hair" industry without acknowledging that
Black entrepreneurs had 100 years to get a monopoly or entrenchment in
the industry that Madam C.J Walker founded 100 years ago, but got
out-hustled and out-strategized while spending investment capital
elsewhere. Let's face it, they're being hoisted by their own petards."
Some members went looking for dictionaries, while most
members nodded as it hit them that their job was finished; that Blacks
had become their own worst enemy.
The leader shook his head. "It's time to go back to our
regular lives as policemen, judges and congressmen, and leave the
business of getting rid of Blacks to Blacks. They are just better at it
than us."
He then threw his hood on the ground and walked off the
stage. Thus ended the last KKK meeting.
There is a message here. I truly hope we are able to
take something away from it.
This email is making the rounds.
The Last KKK Meeting-
Monday, November 22, 2010
Monday Mourning/A Lesson in Kindness
So...PMS + pre-holiday crowds in NYC=world's biggest misanthrope!
I would like to take this opportunity to thank and apologize to my man who stood beside me/behind me and then, got the hell away from me, when he knew that I just needed some space, which of course was impossible to come by on this first Saturday before the holiday madness.
I must take you on a walkthrough of my day. I know that at least one of you out there in the blogosphere will empathize...
It was one of those days where no matter where you turned, or if you found one moment of solitude, some loud and obnoxious idiot would have to stand or sit right next to you, screaming into their cellphone about some personal crisis. Perhaps they figured, the louder they screamed, the faster the crisis would disappear.
Let us not forget the plethora of screaming baby mama's (and crying babies) today, it was hard to tell who was who, that followed me all the way from the Bronx to midtown. Ray suggested perhaps I should get off at the next stop when he saw me giving the screaming couple in front of me the death stare-they were screaming at one another as though they were sitting miles apart...
"It's alright, babe." I said through gritted teeth. "I'll just put on my ipod..."
Didn't help. I turned the volume of my ipod up-in vain. I could still hear their nonsensical conversation. What made matters worse, is that they were talking about me! (Well I assumed this to be the case as they were staring right at me, looking me up and down...may have something to do with the death stare but...hey, what can I say? If they used their in-door voices, there would be no reason for me to ice-grill them to death.)
Finally Ray and I disembark: 23rd Street. And boy do I need to urinate. I begin walking with the quickness in what I think is the right direction, only to find out a couple of blocks in-that I've been walking in the wrong direction. So, we re-route ourselves and start heading towards Burlington...
All of this confusion has made me a bit hungry so we decide to stop mid-route to get a sub at Quizno's. I'm sure they'll have a bathroom in there...
They don't. No matter. I'll just wait. Burlington has a bathroom, and we'll be there in no time.
So, we place our orders...and for a moment there is peace:the place isn't crowded, it's quiet, we find ourselves a comfortable seat and the cashier brings out our sandwhiches and sure enough...
MINE IS THE WRONG ORDER...
I march up to the cashier and tell him that I ordered wheat bread-not white, and throw the sandwhich in his face....JUST KIDDING. Instead, I bitched and moaned to Ray about how I was sick of people not taking me seriously and not listening to what I have to say, I mean, how dumb could the guy be, it was only the two of us, and he looked me dead in my face when he was taking me order...HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN???
"Calm down," says Ray.
Fine. I do march up to the counter, and instead of causing a scene, I politely tell the gentleman that I asked for whole wheat bread, and not white, while ever so gently shoving the sandwhich back to him for a re-do.
"Ma'am, I'm so sorry..." He takes my sandwhich and I make my way back to my seat where Ray is happily chomping away, oblivious.
I envy him.
My sandwhich finally arrives, although he's already done eating, and this couple comes into Quizno's, and I don't know...they just give off a haughty vibe, which pissed me off. The woman kept staring at me, and that annoyed me. What was worse was that of all the chairs in the entire restaurant, she and her husband had to sit right next to us...
I scooped up my garbage and dramatically rose from my seat, picking my coat up with a fierceness that caused me to bump her-ever so slightly. The woman looked shocked. I didn't even look back.
Finally, we arrive at Burlington, and I leave Ray to buy his second overcoat in the span of two weeks. I need to use the rest-room. Apparantly, so did the rest of Burlington. I gave up. I would just have to hold it. And this, of course, does not help matters...
So I return to my beloved meandering through the aisles, picking up coat after coat, trying them on for size and yes, you guessed it--it pisses me off. Every single coat looks the same and the longer we wait, the fuller my bladder becomes.
"I thought you knew what coat you wanted," I snapped.
He continues to pick through the coats.
"My my, when the shopping is not about us, we aren't very patient are we?"
"Not true!" I declared. It's just that it's really crowded in here and I don't want you to have to wait in line for a long time. I know how your feet hurt."
He grabbed the coat and headed towards the cashier. He was right. I should have stayed home. Forget the PMS and the holiday crowds. Wanting to shop but knowing I couldn't afford to was painful, and that made me more irritable than anything else. Of course, I couldn't admit that to Ray though.
He paid for his coat and we were off. Finally it was time to go home.
At least I could afford a chocolate bar. I needed something to bring my dopamine levels up to a normal level, otherwise I was really going to hurt someone, and it was probably going to be the two "fashionista's" wobbling around in front of me-their skinny jeans were too skinny and they were both wearing ankle boots with heels far too high so they were hanging on to one another for dear life...
Need I say more?
So, we make it to Duane Reade, and Ray makes his purchase before me,but he's sitll at the register by the time I approach with my bag of chips, M&M pretzels, and gummy bears...the first thing I noticed after slapping all my junk on the counter was how pretty the cashier was. Her beauty caught me off guard actually. (See, I'm not such a beast-I recognize the beauty in people...sometimes)
The other thing I noticed was a puzzled look on Ray's face. I chocked it up to the fact that I was making him pay for my snacks, but it wasn't that...
The cashier did not even say hello, or smile when she rang the purchase up. I wondered what the hell Ray did to her. She snatched the money out of Ray's hands and threw the items into the shopping bag...She was so blatantly rude for no reason. I actually felt hurt.
I felt my heartbeat speeding up, and Ray saw the look on my face. He knew I was about to tell her off. He grabbed the bag, and nudged me. He feared a confrontation and was trying to push me out of the store. I'll admit, I can be a bit hot-tempered, but I'm no beast. I do not confront people who should not be confronted. What transpired next shocked even me...
"How are you today?" I asked the cashier.
The look on her face was priceless.
"Fine," she said bashfully, she smiled sheepishly. I knew she was ashamed of herself. There was no reason for her to behave like that.
She gave us our change, and I thanked her and told her to have a nice day. A pretty girl like that should not have such a nasty attitude. ( I wouldn't dare tell her how pretty she was-she didn't deserve that.)
So...we left the store, and I ate my chocolate. It was the sweetest chocolate I had ever tasted. Ray just shook his head at me and smiled.
"That's my girl," he said. "You just couldn't leave it alone, could you?"
I just grinned, feeling triumphant. I was gloating so much I forgot how badly I still had to urinate, which brings me to the happy ending of this little diatribe.
We have finally arrived back where we started. About a couple of blocks from the express bus that will take us home is one of our (not so) favorite watering holes. It would have to do tonight, because our hero has to use the bathroom and this will be an entirely different story if she doesn't go now!
And as fate would have it-the only two available seats are squished in between a couple that clearly doesn't want us invading their space-similar to the episode I experienced earlier in Quiznos...they made every effort not to move their seats closer together to make room for us.
I felt slightly guilty, and thought about sitting at another table, but it was far away from the bar...
and then I thought against it. Ray and I smooshed ourselves right into those seats as tightly as we could, and ordered our drinks. Ray ordered me a Guiness and he got himself a Blue Moon.
"You know they were pissed that we sat here right?" He whispered to me. I knew because I saw them talking about us as we squished next to them.
I leaned into him and pretended to be talking about them. I looked directly at her as I whispered back to Ray, she looked away. I made my point.
"I'm about to piss my pants," I said and dashed off to the bathroom. Sure enough, there was a line. But this time, I waited.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank and apologize to my man who stood beside me/behind me and then, got the hell away from me, when he knew that I just needed some space, which of course was impossible to come by on this first Saturday before the holiday madness.
I must take you on a walkthrough of my day. I know that at least one of you out there in the blogosphere will empathize...
It was one of those days where no matter where you turned, or if you found one moment of solitude, some loud and obnoxious idiot would have to stand or sit right next to you, screaming into their cellphone about some personal crisis. Perhaps they figured, the louder they screamed, the faster the crisis would disappear.
Let us not forget the plethora of screaming baby mama's (and crying babies) today, it was hard to tell who was who, that followed me all the way from the Bronx to midtown. Ray suggested perhaps I should get off at the next stop when he saw me giving the screaming couple in front of me the death stare-they were screaming at one another as though they were sitting miles apart...
"It's alright, babe." I said through gritted teeth. "I'll just put on my ipod..."
Didn't help. I turned the volume of my ipod up-in vain. I could still hear their nonsensical conversation. What made matters worse, is that they were talking about me! (Well I assumed this to be the case as they were staring right at me, looking me up and down...may have something to do with the death stare but...hey, what can I say? If they used their in-door voices, there would be no reason for me to ice-grill them to death.)
Finally Ray and I disembark: 23rd Street. And boy do I need to urinate. I begin walking with the quickness in what I think is the right direction, only to find out a couple of blocks in-that I've been walking in the wrong direction. So, we re-route ourselves and start heading towards Burlington...
All of this confusion has made me a bit hungry so we decide to stop mid-route to get a sub at Quizno's. I'm sure they'll have a bathroom in there...
They don't. No matter. I'll just wait. Burlington has a bathroom, and we'll be there in no time.
So, we place our orders...and for a moment there is peace:the place isn't crowded, it's quiet, we find ourselves a comfortable seat and the cashier brings out our sandwhiches and sure enough...
MINE IS THE WRONG ORDER...
I march up to the cashier and tell him that I ordered wheat bread-not white, and throw the sandwhich in his face....JUST KIDDING. Instead, I bitched and moaned to Ray about how I was sick of people not taking me seriously and not listening to what I have to say, I mean, how dumb could the guy be, it was only the two of us, and he looked me dead in my face when he was taking me order...HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN???
"Calm down," says Ray.
Fine. I do march up to the counter, and instead of causing a scene, I politely tell the gentleman that I asked for whole wheat bread, and not white, while ever so gently shoving the sandwhich back to him for a re-do.
"Ma'am, I'm so sorry..." He takes my sandwhich and I make my way back to my seat where Ray is happily chomping away, oblivious.
I envy him.
My sandwhich finally arrives, although he's already done eating, and this couple comes into Quizno's, and I don't know...they just give off a haughty vibe, which pissed me off. The woman kept staring at me, and that annoyed me. What was worse was that of all the chairs in the entire restaurant, she and her husband had to sit right next to us...
I scooped up my garbage and dramatically rose from my seat, picking my coat up with a fierceness that caused me to bump her-ever so slightly. The woman looked shocked. I didn't even look back.
Finally, we arrive at Burlington, and I leave Ray to buy his second overcoat in the span of two weeks. I need to use the rest-room. Apparantly, so did the rest of Burlington. I gave up. I would just have to hold it. And this, of course, does not help matters...
So I return to my beloved meandering through the aisles, picking up coat after coat, trying them on for size and yes, you guessed it--it pisses me off. Every single coat looks the same and the longer we wait, the fuller my bladder becomes.
"I thought you knew what coat you wanted," I snapped.
He continues to pick through the coats.
"My my, when the shopping is not about us, we aren't very patient are we?"
"Not true!" I declared. It's just that it's really crowded in here and I don't want you to have to wait in line for a long time. I know how your feet hurt."
He grabbed the coat and headed towards the cashier. He was right. I should have stayed home. Forget the PMS and the holiday crowds. Wanting to shop but knowing I couldn't afford to was painful, and that made me more irritable than anything else. Of course, I couldn't admit that to Ray though.
He paid for his coat and we were off. Finally it was time to go home.
At least I could afford a chocolate bar. I needed something to bring my dopamine levels up to a normal level, otherwise I was really going to hurt someone, and it was probably going to be the two "fashionista's" wobbling around in front of me-their skinny jeans were too skinny and they were both wearing ankle boots with heels far too high so they were hanging on to one another for dear life...
Need I say more?
So, we make it to Duane Reade, and Ray makes his purchase before me,but he's sitll at the register by the time I approach with my bag of chips, M&M pretzels, and gummy bears...the first thing I noticed after slapping all my junk on the counter was how pretty the cashier was. Her beauty caught me off guard actually. (See, I'm not such a beast-I recognize the beauty in people...sometimes)
The other thing I noticed was a puzzled look on Ray's face. I chocked it up to the fact that I was making him pay for my snacks, but it wasn't that...
The cashier did not even say hello, or smile when she rang the purchase up. I wondered what the hell Ray did to her. She snatched the money out of Ray's hands and threw the items into the shopping bag...She was so blatantly rude for no reason. I actually felt hurt.
I felt my heartbeat speeding up, and Ray saw the look on my face. He knew I was about to tell her off. He grabbed the bag, and nudged me. He feared a confrontation and was trying to push me out of the store. I'll admit, I can be a bit hot-tempered, but I'm no beast. I do not confront people who should not be confronted. What transpired next shocked even me...
"How are you today?" I asked the cashier.
The look on her face was priceless.
"Fine," she said bashfully, she smiled sheepishly. I knew she was ashamed of herself. There was no reason for her to behave like that.
She gave us our change, and I thanked her and told her to have a nice day. A pretty girl like that should not have such a nasty attitude. ( I wouldn't dare tell her how pretty she was-she didn't deserve that.)
So...we left the store, and I ate my chocolate. It was the sweetest chocolate I had ever tasted. Ray just shook his head at me and smiled.
"That's my girl," he said. "You just couldn't leave it alone, could you?"
I just grinned, feeling triumphant. I was gloating so much I forgot how badly I still had to urinate, which brings me to the happy ending of this little diatribe.
We have finally arrived back where we started. About a couple of blocks from the express bus that will take us home is one of our (not so) favorite watering holes. It would have to do tonight, because our hero has to use the bathroom and this will be an entirely different story if she doesn't go now!
And as fate would have it-the only two available seats are squished in between a couple that clearly doesn't want us invading their space-similar to the episode I experienced earlier in Quiznos...they made every effort not to move their seats closer together to make room for us.
I felt slightly guilty, and thought about sitting at another table, but it was far away from the bar...
and then I thought against it. Ray and I smooshed ourselves right into those seats as tightly as we could, and ordered our drinks. Ray ordered me a Guiness and he got himself a Blue Moon.
"You know they were pissed that we sat here right?" He whispered to me. I knew because I saw them talking about us as we squished next to them.
I leaned into him and pretended to be talking about them. I looked directly at her as I whispered back to Ray, she looked away. I made my point.
"I'm about to piss my pants," I said and dashed off to the bathroom. Sure enough, there was a line. But this time, I waited.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
In My Humble Opinion...
So, I've returned from a productive weekend in Buffalo, (hard to imagine that Carl Palladino hails from such a friendly place) searching for wedding and bridesmaid dresses for the upcoming nuptials of my dear baby sister. It was less painful than I imagined, and surprisingly enough-I've returned without a scratch,egos are in tact and my sister, mom and I agreed on EVERYTHING! I love my dress, and I cannot wait to stand behind my sister who will be beautiful as she walks down the aisle.
This weeks "In My Humble Opinion" is a review of the movie that my mother, sister and I saw this weekend during our bonding session. My mother is a Tyler Perry fan and as her daughters, we like to make her happy. Even though we are both "adults" now we owe it our mother to be seen and not heard since we were not those children growing up and she never ceases to remind my sister and I that we are responsible for for turning her hair completely silver hair at the tender age of 63.
My sister and I tend to be movie snobs (maybe we're snobs in general) much to the chagrin of my poor mother who just wants to "watch the bloody movie in peace!" So out of respect to her, we stayed silent throughout the movie (and afterwards) when she asked us what we thought of the movie. In unison, we responded "It was good!" Then quickly walked to the car without another word as my mom went on and on about how powerful the movie was. Olivia vigorously nodded her head in agreement (she was asleep for most of it) and I just kept repeating how beautiful Thandie Newton is. As my mother taught me, if I didn't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all...
....that is until you have a blog and you can say whatever the hell you like! So here, in my humble opinion, are my thoughts about For Colored Girls...
Tyler Perry's latest movie is, well, another Tyler Perry movie. For once, I would love to see him expand his repertoire by vindicating the constantly villified Black male character. In this film he is the "down-low brother who lies to himself, his wife and his community," or the Black war veteran who struggles with alcohol and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, abuses his children and his wife( that he clearly wants to marry yet alienates her and his loved ones because he won't get help). These characters, need love and support too, but Perry never gives it to them.
With the success of his last project, "Precious," based on the novel "Push", by Sapphire, perhaps Mr. Perry felt emboldened to take on another extraordinary peice of literature-"For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide when the Rainbow is Enuf," by Ntozake Shange. This time, Mr. Perry writes, and directs.
For Colored Girls and Precious both take place in Harlem, and both deal with abuse and neglect, but where "Precious" was cohesive, poignant and sadly realistic, "For Colored Girls" was disjointed, far-reaching and cliche.
While Perry tried to stay true to the theme of Shange's play, rape, abandoment and abortion, I think he got in over his head by incorporating her monologues into the character's dialogue. It was distracting and judging from the giggling and obnoxious comments coming from the audience, with regard to one of the character's diatribes they could not comprehend the metaphors and symbolism within Shange's monologues. (This too made the movie hard to watch).
The calibre of acting was extraordinary in this film. Of notable mention is Macy Gray's commanding monologue right before her character is about to perform a risky abortion. Her rambling, drunken prose is fitting here, since we are aware that her character is an alcoholic, and her rambling makes sense to the viewer. However,it does not work when two characters are having a normal conversation and one of them goes off on a seemingly endless tangent, which has nothing to do with what the characters were originally discussing. Finally, there were too many plots, characters and issues to be dealt with-far too many to be adequately addressed in a two hour film. In any event, Perry assembled a phenomenal cast. It's unfortunate that their talents were wasted on this film.
It was ambitious for Perry to take such a serious play and tack it onto his own work. It is irresponsible and tacky, and it does not do Shange's or his own work justice. "For Colored Girls" is a serious work that deserves a stage of is own.
And...in saying this, please keep in mind that this is only...
MY HUMBLE OPINION...
This weeks "In My Humble Opinion" is a review of the movie that my mother, sister and I saw this weekend during our bonding session. My mother is a Tyler Perry fan and as her daughters, we like to make her happy. Even though we are both "adults" now we owe it our mother to be seen and not heard since we were not those children growing up and she never ceases to remind my sister and I that we are responsible for for turning her hair completely silver hair at the tender age of 63.
My sister and I tend to be movie snobs (maybe we're snobs in general) much to the chagrin of my poor mother who just wants to "watch the bloody movie in peace!" So out of respect to her, we stayed silent throughout the movie (and afterwards) when she asked us what we thought of the movie. In unison, we responded "It was good!" Then quickly walked to the car without another word as my mom went on and on about how powerful the movie was. Olivia vigorously nodded her head in agreement (she was asleep for most of it) and I just kept repeating how beautiful Thandie Newton is. As my mother taught me, if I didn't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all...
....that is until you have a blog and you can say whatever the hell you like! So here, in my humble opinion, are my thoughts about For Colored Girls...
Tyler Perry's latest movie is, well, another Tyler Perry movie. For once, I would love to see him expand his repertoire by vindicating the constantly villified Black male character. In this film he is the "down-low brother who lies to himself, his wife and his community," or the Black war veteran who struggles with alcohol and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, abuses his children and his wife( that he clearly wants to marry yet alienates her and his loved ones because he won't get help). These characters, need love and support too, but Perry never gives it to them.
With the success of his last project, "Precious," based on the novel "Push", by Sapphire, perhaps Mr. Perry felt emboldened to take on another extraordinary peice of literature-"For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide when the Rainbow is Enuf," by Ntozake Shange. This time, Mr. Perry writes, and directs.
For Colored Girls and Precious both take place in Harlem, and both deal with abuse and neglect, but where "Precious" was cohesive, poignant and sadly realistic, "For Colored Girls" was disjointed, far-reaching and cliche.
While Perry tried to stay true to the theme of Shange's play, rape, abandoment and abortion, I think he got in over his head by incorporating her monologues into the character's dialogue. It was distracting and judging from the giggling and obnoxious comments coming from the audience, with regard to one of the character's diatribes they could not comprehend the metaphors and symbolism within Shange's monologues. (This too made the movie hard to watch).
The calibre of acting was extraordinary in this film. Of notable mention is Macy Gray's commanding monologue right before her character is about to perform a risky abortion. Her rambling, drunken prose is fitting here, since we are aware that her character is an alcoholic, and her rambling makes sense to the viewer. However,it does not work when two characters are having a normal conversation and one of them goes off on a seemingly endless tangent, which has nothing to do with what the characters were originally discussing. Finally, there were too many plots, characters and issues to be dealt with-far too many to be adequately addressed in a two hour film. In any event, Perry assembled a phenomenal cast. It's unfortunate that their talents were wasted on this film.
It was ambitious for Perry to take such a serious play and tack it onto his own work. It is irresponsible and tacky, and it does not do Shange's or his own work justice. "For Colored Girls" is a serious work that deserves a stage of is own.
And...in saying this, please keep in mind that this is only...
MY HUMBLE OPINION...
Monday, November 8, 2010
Throwback
I'll never forget the first day I met him. Well... my best friend Sasha actually met him before I did. It's a signficant part of the story that will make sense later. It was Canada Day, 1989. It was a time of converse sneakers, pimples, puberty, crushes, and of course, heartbreak.
Summer had officially started; Canada Day at Stan Wadlow Park was the major event of the summer. And of course, I would not be there because I had a piano recital to practice for.
Stan Wadlow park was the place to be on any summer night, but Canada Day was particularly special. It was a chance to check out the cute boys and girls that were going to be going to your school next year,check check out the competition and put first dibs on your crush.
I was at home practicing Fur Elise for my piano recital. My parents weren't as liberal as Sasha's, who let her do pretty much whatever she wanted. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere if my parents weren't within enough yardage to yank me from the premises should they think that something was amiss. I really wanted to go to Stan Wadlow but it wouldn't kill me- only because with Sasha around I may as well have been invisible. She was beautiful with her light, near white complexion and hazel eyes, She had long thick black hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall. We couldn't walk two steps together without some guy asking for her name and phone number.
So I wasn't surprised when Sasha came running to my room, the next day, doubled over, hands on her knees, panting because she was out of breath. She straightened up as soon as she was in front of my mirror, and peered into it, as though she were seeing herself for the first time.
"What is it?" I asked, trying to hide my annoyance. I knew that whatever she was about to tell me, I didn't want to hear. I mean how many times could I hear that this "really cute guy asked for my number," and act surprised?
She winced, and looked like a wounded puppy. I felt bad. For a second.
"Nothing." I snapped. "I have to get ready to practice. My recital is in two days and daddy's been on my case about it.
She waived her hand in the air dismissing me, and plopped herself on my bed.
"You should have been at Stan Wadlow yesterday, man! Sooo many cuties. They were all over. And there was this one..."
Her hand flew to her heart and she cast her face upwards as she spoke of 'the one.'
"Really!?" I tried to sound more excited than my countenance displayed. As usual, Sasha was oblivious. She continued.
"He's so cute! He's lightskinned, and he has nice eyes. I didn't get to talk to him because he was playing baseball. I only saw him from afar. I told Paula to find out his name, but she didn't get a chance because there were so many guys there Renee. We kept getting stopped. Some guy said he knew him from Junior High School and that he was going to EYCI next year. We'll get to see him next year! He'll be in your grade. You have to find out who he is..." She paused, and lay back on the bed stretching her arms over her head.
I wanted her to leave me alone. Why should I find out who he is. She wanted him. She should do the leg work. Besides, he'd probably fall in love with her on sight.
"Can you believe it?" She sighed. "High School. Older guys...we're gonna have so much fun next year." She shot up off of my bed and walked over to my desk. She picked up my Royal Conservatory piano book off and flipped through it.
"It's so lame your parents make you do this. I feel so sorry for you. You never have time to hang out. It's not fair. You want me to ask my mom to talk to your mom?
"Are you crazy!" I shot back. That would never work, in fact it would make things worse. "Thanks, but no thanks! I like playing piano," I lied. I knew my parents were trying to give me "culture" by making me take lessons, but I'll admit, I did feel like I was missing out.
She dropped the book on my desk and shrugged and continued to peruse my belongings. She picked up a pair of silver earrings that my Godmother brought back for me from a trip to Mexico.
"Hey...can I borrow this?" I'm going to the Secord dance next week and this would look great with my outfit!"
I couldn't believe Sasha's parents allowed her to go such events. I suppose since her older (by 2 years) cousin Paula (whom I disliked immensly)-was chaperoning her parents were fooled into thinking she'd be safe.
Paula was anything but safe. She was a firestarter. She was confrontational and loved to instigate fights. But our parents never saw that side of her because Paula was one heckuv an actress. She was tall and slim, with a pretty face and large doe-shaped eyes that gave the illusion of innocence. Talk about the devil in disguise.
a
Once, she tried to start a fight on my behalf because she claimed that the chick gave me the "cut-eye." I never saw it, and I really couldn't care less, but Paula was right there instigating, putting her hands in the girls face telling her she and I were going to kick her ass.
When the girl threw down her knapsack and balled her fists ready to go, Paula ran away, leaving me and Sasha to fend for ourselves.
Not to mention that Secord Community Center dances were notorious for fights and other trouble. It was the kind of environment Paula thrived in. She loved drama and she craved attention. Also, she dated older boys and they hung out at Secord. Sasha would be in heaven.
My parents would never let me go.
"Maybe I'll see my cutie there!" She said, casting her gaze heavenward again.
"Yeah, maybe you will." I said it flatly. I was making myself busy around my room, folding clothes, putting away books, trying to get her to notice I had no interest in the sordid details of her life. I thought she would get the point, but she didn't. I stared at her in disbelief. How could she be so aloof?
Her skin was flushed and slightly pink from her excitement and her eyes were wide with anticipation. She was so pretty it made me angry.
I was certainly not looking forward to next year. High school would be hell with Sasha as my best friend.
Summer had officially started; Canada Day at Stan Wadlow Park was the major event of the summer. And of course, I would not be there because I had a piano recital to practice for.
Stan Wadlow park was the place to be on any summer night, but Canada Day was particularly special. It was a chance to check out the cute boys and girls that were going to be going to your school next year,check check out the competition and put first dibs on your crush.
I was at home practicing Fur Elise for my piano recital. My parents weren't as liberal as Sasha's, who let her do pretty much whatever she wanted. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere if my parents weren't within enough yardage to yank me from the premises should they think that something was amiss. I really wanted to go to Stan Wadlow but it wouldn't kill me- only because with Sasha around I may as well have been invisible. She was beautiful with her light, near white complexion and hazel eyes, She had long thick black hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall. We couldn't walk two steps together without some guy asking for her name and phone number.
So I wasn't surprised when Sasha came running to my room, the next day, doubled over, hands on her knees, panting because she was out of breath. She straightened up as soon as she was in front of my mirror, and peered into it, as though she were seeing herself for the first time.
"What is it?" I asked, trying to hide my annoyance. I knew that whatever she was about to tell me, I didn't want to hear. I mean how many times could I hear that this "really cute guy asked for my number," and act surprised?
She winced, and looked like a wounded puppy. I felt bad. For a second.
"Nothing." I snapped. "I have to get ready to practice. My recital is in two days and daddy's been on my case about it.
She waived her hand in the air dismissing me, and plopped herself on my bed.
"You should have been at Stan Wadlow yesterday, man! Sooo many cuties. They were all over. And there was this one..."
Her hand flew to her heart and she cast her face upwards as she spoke of 'the one.'
"Really!?" I tried to sound more excited than my countenance displayed. As usual, Sasha was oblivious. She continued.
"He's so cute! He's lightskinned, and he has nice eyes. I didn't get to talk to him because he was playing baseball. I only saw him from afar. I told Paula to find out his name, but she didn't get a chance because there were so many guys there Renee. We kept getting stopped. Some guy said he knew him from Junior High School and that he was going to EYCI next year. We'll get to see him next year! He'll be in your grade. You have to find out who he is..." She paused, and lay back on the bed stretching her arms over her head.
I wanted her to leave me alone. Why should I find out who he is. She wanted him. She should do the leg work. Besides, he'd probably fall in love with her on sight.
"Can you believe it?" She sighed. "High School. Older guys...we're gonna have so much fun next year." She shot up off of my bed and walked over to my desk. She picked up my Royal Conservatory piano book off and flipped through it.
"It's so lame your parents make you do this. I feel so sorry for you. You never have time to hang out. It's not fair. You want me to ask my mom to talk to your mom?
"Are you crazy!" I shot back. That would never work, in fact it would make things worse. "Thanks, but no thanks! I like playing piano," I lied. I knew my parents were trying to give me "culture" by making me take lessons, but I'll admit, I did feel like I was missing out.
She dropped the book on my desk and shrugged and continued to peruse my belongings. She picked up a pair of silver earrings that my Godmother brought back for me from a trip to Mexico.
"Hey...can I borrow this?" I'm going to the Secord dance next week and this would look great with my outfit!"
I couldn't believe Sasha's parents allowed her to go such events. I suppose since her older (by 2 years) cousin Paula (whom I disliked immensly)-was chaperoning her parents were fooled into thinking she'd be safe.
Paula was anything but safe. She was a firestarter. She was confrontational and loved to instigate fights. But our parents never saw that side of her because Paula was one heckuv an actress. She was tall and slim, with a pretty face and large doe-shaped eyes that gave the illusion of innocence. Talk about the devil in disguise.
a
Once, she tried to start a fight on my behalf because she claimed that the chick gave me the "cut-eye." I never saw it, and I really couldn't care less, but Paula was right there instigating, putting her hands in the girls face telling her she and I were going to kick her ass.
When the girl threw down her knapsack and balled her fists ready to go, Paula ran away, leaving me and Sasha to fend for ourselves.
Not to mention that Secord Community Center dances were notorious for fights and other trouble. It was the kind of environment Paula thrived in. She loved drama and she craved attention. Also, she dated older boys and they hung out at Secord. Sasha would be in heaven.
My parents would never let me go.
"Maybe I'll see my cutie there!" She said, casting her gaze heavenward again.
"Yeah, maybe you will." I said it flatly. I was making myself busy around my room, folding clothes, putting away books, trying to get her to notice I had no interest in the sordid details of her life. I thought she would get the point, but she didn't. I stared at her in disbelief. How could she be so aloof?
Her skin was flushed and slightly pink from her excitement and her eyes were wide with anticipation. She was so pretty it made me angry.
I was certainly not looking forward to next year. High school would be hell with Sasha as my best friend.
Happy Birthday To Me!!!! (A Note About "Friends")
Awwww.....I'm humbled by the Facebook messags, texts, emails and well wishes from friends I haven't spoken to in years. It's a nice birthday wish considering that as we get older we tend to think of ourselves as somewhat "irrelevant" well-I did anyway. Until today.
As cliche and corny as it sounds it is the thought that counts. To know that you are on somebody's mind and that they take that brief second or so out of their lives to "honor" you is humbling and gratifying.
So...I thought it appropriate to send a quick shout out to those who wished me well today-friends from near and far-friends who remembered me from way back when I was somebody, and I did things, and connected with people, like when I was blogging all the time. I felt connected back then, and I'll admit, without writing, or blogging, I felt lonely, and friendless. I didn't have anything to share, and nobody to share with.
However, that changed today. I suppose there's much to be said for social networking. Thanks to my friends for checking in. You have encouraged me to stay relevant. You have reminded me of my worth as a human being, and as a writer. You have reminded me that I have something to offer and I am enternally grateful for that.
To my friends (and family) that reached out; I thank you-you can never know how much.
If I were to say that I wasn't bothered by the fact that I'm getting older I would be lying. I do not take for granted the speed at which life passes, and I also realize that I have been idle, laying around acting as though I have all the time in the world to accomplish my goals when in actually, I do not.
So on this my 36th birthday I am announcing to the world-and all the people in my life who have encouraged me, motivated me, believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. Again, you all know who you are, and you have supported me unconditionally. I will not let you down, most importantly I will not let myself down.
I have taken the first step in creating this blog-the next is the hardest, but I will remember this day and the promise I made: and this is to keep writing. This is what I was born to do, writing makes me happy and in the end that is all that matters. Everything else will fall into place.
So, thanks again friends. As a present to myself, I will post the first installment of one of my stories...stay tuned...
And last but not least, I want to give a shout out to Dawn Campbell. I'm honored to call you friend. This is for you!
As cliche and corny as it sounds it is the thought that counts. To know that you are on somebody's mind and that they take that brief second or so out of their lives to "honor" you is humbling and gratifying.
So...I thought it appropriate to send a quick shout out to those who wished me well today-friends from near and far-friends who remembered me from way back when I was somebody, and I did things, and connected with people, like when I was blogging all the time. I felt connected back then, and I'll admit, without writing, or blogging, I felt lonely, and friendless. I didn't have anything to share, and nobody to share with.
However, that changed today. I suppose there's much to be said for social networking. Thanks to my friends for checking in. You have encouraged me to stay relevant. You have reminded me of my worth as a human being, and as a writer. You have reminded me that I have something to offer and I am enternally grateful for that.
To my friends (and family) that reached out; I thank you-you can never know how much.
If I were to say that I wasn't bothered by the fact that I'm getting older I would be lying. I do not take for granted the speed at which life passes, and I also realize that I have been idle, laying around acting as though I have all the time in the world to accomplish my goals when in actually, I do not.
So on this my 36th birthday I am announcing to the world-and all the people in my life who have encouraged me, motivated me, believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. Again, you all know who you are, and you have supported me unconditionally. I will not let you down, most importantly I will not let myself down.
I have taken the first step in creating this blog-the next is the hardest, but I will remember this day and the promise I made: and this is to keep writing. This is what I was born to do, writing makes me happy and in the end that is all that matters. Everything else will fall into place.
So, thanks again friends. As a present to myself, I will post the first installment of one of my stories...stay tuned...
And last but not least, I want to give a shout out to Dawn Campbell. I'm honored to call you friend. This is for you!
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Hello World!
After a long hiatus, I have returned. Much has gone on since I've been gone and there is much to discuss. However, before I get into all that, I think it would be appropriate for me to reintroduce myself, and reaquaint myself with my fellow bloggers.
So...today is election day: a referendum on Obama and the democrats. I'm a pessimist by nature, but one does not have to constantly see the glass as half-empty to admit where we're headed. I'm worried for my country. This is not to say that I'm an Obama fan-I had my reservations about him during his campaign and my complaint today is the same as it was then...his goals were/are too lofty. Flowery rhetoric is not going to save this country. Stump speeches are not going to bring the economy back to life. As far as Obama care and the desired effect of the stimulus, I'm sure that revisionist historians will treat our 44th president and his ambitious agenda kindly, as they have done to Johnson, Nixon, Carter and George Bush.
Obama's patience has been tested, and I fear what is going to happen when Republicans take over the house. Remember during the State of the Union Address when Obama was heckled, shouted out as "liar!" Actions that were considered disrespectful by most who witnessed it. I wonder if Bush or any other American president has been publicly heckled like this? What about the Rolling Stone article, in which General McChrystal criticized Obama's handling of the war? Is this not the ultimate disrespect? Regardless of how one feels about the Commander in Chief's handling of the war-the fact remains that he is the Commander in Chief, and there is a chain of command. Not to mention the fact that if the enemy senses a chink in the armour, or the fact that there is conflicting views among the top brass it undermines the war effort and puts us all at risk. Again, I don't remember Bush enduring this kind of disrespect, sure he had his share from the press but congress was never so explicitly resistent and antagonistic towards their president as this 112th congress is towards Barack Obama. I mean even his own party seems to hate him-many of them distanced themselves from him during these campaigning months-one of them telling him to "shove" his endorsement!
For as long as I've been following politics I've never seen anything like it! I refuse to introduce the r word though-just like Obama. He knows better, and so do I. After all, h
ow can such an absurd concept as the r word could be possible in post-racial America where a black man is the president?
While I have sworn to stay away from the r word, and all of its socio-political implications-others have not -like our beloved tea party who shout racist and homophobic slurs at their rallies and protests, and lets not forget their candidates,(representing the patriots) like Carl Paladino who sends porn and racist emails depicting the first lady and president as a hoe and pimp-n word included!
What about Michael Steele? Chairman of the Grand Ol' Party! To the right, he's somewhat of an Obama, first African American chair of the Republican National Committee. I'm sure the irony is not lost on him, or is it? He hasn't had such an easy time these last years has he? Stop. We aren't going there...
As I've said-this is only my intro piece. I can't wait to see what befalls us after tonight. So much to write about...I think of my poor 90 year old grandmother who I called this morning to see if she was going to vote-I asked her who she's going to vote for and received should have known better than to receive a straight forward answer. She flipped it on me; begging and pleading with me to vote democrat. "Please," she said, they're giving Obama such a hard time..."
"Oh Grandma," I said, hearing the panic in her voice. "You have no idea."
...To be continued....please stay tuned.
So...today is election day: a referendum on Obama and the democrats. I'm a pessimist by nature, but one does not have to constantly see the glass as half-empty to admit where we're headed. I'm worried for my country. This is not to say that I'm an Obama fan-I had my reservations about him during his campaign and my complaint today is the same as it was then...his goals were/are too lofty. Flowery rhetoric is not going to save this country. Stump speeches are not going to bring the economy back to life. As far as Obama care and the desired effect of the stimulus, I'm sure that revisionist historians will treat our 44th president and his ambitious agenda kindly, as they have done to Johnson, Nixon, Carter and George Bush.
Obama's patience has been tested, and I fear what is going to happen when Republicans take over the house. Remember during the State of the Union Address when Obama was heckled, shouted out as "liar!" Actions that were considered disrespectful by most who witnessed it. I wonder if Bush or any other American president has been publicly heckled like this? What about the Rolling Stone article, in which General McChrystal criticized Obama's handling of the war? Is this not the ultimate disrespect? Regardless of how one feels about the Commander in Chief's handling of the war-the fact remains that he is the Commander in Chief, and there is a chain of command. Not to mention the fact that if the enemy senses a chink in the armour, or the fact that there is conflicting views among the top brass it undermines the war effort and puts us all at risk. Again, I don't remember Bush enduring this kind of disrespect, sure he had his share from the press but congress was never so explicitly resistent and antagonistic towards their president as this 112th congress is towards Barack Obama. I mean even his own party seems to hate him-many of them distanced themselves from him during these campaigning months-one of them telling him to "shove" his endorsement!
For as long as I've been following politics I've never seen anything like it! I refuse to introduce the r word though-just like Obama. He knows better, and so do I. After all, h
ow can such an absurd concept as the r word could be possible in post-racial America where a black man is the president?
While I have sworn to stay away from the r word, and all of its socio-political implications-others have not -like our beloved tea party who shout racist and homophobic slurs at their rallies and protests, and lets not forget their candidates,(representing the patriots) like Carl Paladino who sends porn and racist emails depicting the first lady and president as a hoe and pimp-n word included!
What about Michael Steele? Chairman of the Grand Ol' Party! To the right, he's somewhat of an Obama, first African American chair of the Republican National Committee. I'm sure the irony is not lost on him, or is it? He hasn't had such an easy time these last years has he? Stop. We aren't going there...
As I've said-this is only my intro piece. I can't wait to see what befalls us after tonight. So much to write about...I think of my poor 90 year old grandmother who I called this morning to see if she was going to vote-I asked her who she's going to vote for and received should have known better than to receive a straight forward answer. She flipped it on me; begging and pleading with me to vote democrat. "Please," she said, they're giving Obama such a hard time..."
"Oh Grandma," I said, hearing the panic in her voice. "You have no idea."
...To be continued....please stay tuned.
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