Charm City Circulatin'

Charm City Circulatin'

The Debt Ceiling Crisis

s a self-described political junkie, I would be remiss not to comment on the current fiasco concerning the debt ceiling. Lately, politics has become ugly. Debate no longer seem to be about how to repair the serious problems this country faces, but rather a war has turned into a zero sum game.

Enough is enough! We have less than a week now before the country goes into default and I’ve just learned that some grassroots conservative organizations, as well as an influential fiscal conservative group are hell bent on defeating Speaker Boehner’s plan to reduce the nation’s debt.  These are people in his own party!  This behavior is despicable. Let me be clear:  I’m no economist. I am simply an American who loves her country. I am concerned for the welfare of this nation. Is it not alarming to those same people who claim that their “rights” as “Americans” are being trampled on? Do they not see that we are losing our credibility as a democracy around the world? It is infuriating that our nation’s “leaders,” I use the term loosely- seem hell bent on derailing the political process rather than work alongside one another to restore our confidence in it.  I write these words for my own edification about the debt crisis. I pray that the dysfunctional demagogues in Congress, democrats and republicans alike will consider us-the employee, the tax payer, the elderly, the citizen- ultimately we average Americans who will suffer greatly if an agreement is not made.

What I know about the debt ceiling crisis thus far:

The federal government has surpassed the amount of money we can borrow (14.3 billion dollars). If we don’t get our financial house in order by August 3, when the bills are due, we risk going into default. The government is mandated to pay federal salaries, Medicare and social security, tax refunds, as well as the interest it already owes on outstanding debts. If congress can’t get it together and a  deal is not reached as to whether or not we can borrow more money after the August 2^nd deadline, spending will have to be reduced to the amount of revenue that the government already has to avoid more debt.  This could mean suspended investments, or redeeming securities in accounts like Civil Service retirement, which could bring us closer to default. (www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/politics/jan-june11/debtceiling_05-16.html)

The debate over the debt-ceiling is not new. Policy makers have raised the limit in the past. In fact, it’s been raised 74 times. The first time it was enacted was during World War 1 in order to issue bonds.

The Plan

If only there was one! Instead we have partisan bickering and a refusal to compromise.

At the time of writing conservative lawmakers expressed skepticism that Boehner could come up with more cuts. He has just warned his caucus to get their “asses” in line.

His two step plan is a 10 year cap on discretionary spending to save $1.2 trillion over 10 years and to raise the debt limit by 1 trillion an amount that is expected to last until next year. His plan makes spending cuts larger than any debt ceiling increase and would implement spending caps to restrain future spending, thereby advancing the cause of a balanced budget amendment. Reid’s plan would cut $2.2 trillion from the budget $500 billion dollars less than advertised. Also his plan would avoid another debt ceiling argument before 2013, while Boehner’s requires us to revisit the issue again in 2012-with a hike in the ceiling contingent upon tax cuts. (http://www.advisorone.com/2011/07/27/cbo-boehner-reid-debt-plans-fall-short-of-promised)

Obama criticized Boehner’s plan-claiming that it is too short term and could spark the downgrade of US debt. He also said there should be a balanced approach, which forces wealthy Americans to contribute, not a ‘cuts only” approach.

Boehner blasted Obama and Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid’s plan  for engaging in a “spending binge” and pushing tax increases that will destroy jobs,” he claimed it was  a blueprint for a blank check for more uncontrolled spending that would undermine the economy. (cnn.com)

Currently, both plans fall short of savings they both have promised, according to the Congressional Budget Office. Revisions to Boehner’s plan would bring a total of $917 billion in savings over 10 years, an increase of $65 billion over the initial version. With the revisions, Boehner’s proposal which calls for a $900 billion increase in the debt ceiling-now meets his pledge to match any debt ceiling hike with dollar for dollar spending cuts. Senate Democrats said that this plan has no chance of passing the Senate-and the top Republicans have called the Senate Democratic plan a “non-starter.”(http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2011/07/28/conservative-groups-making-final-push-todefeat Boehner plan.

How Is the Crisis Affecting us now? What about After August 3?

The Daily News has reported that the economy has already started to hurt because of the stalled debt ceiling talks. Investors are wary and stocks are dipping.  A downgrade of the debt-and even worse, a default would likely undermine investors faith in the security of U.S. debt and this would force interest rates to soar even higher, which could hamper an already limping economic recovery. We have already seen the dollar decline.  In Canada, the American dollar is sub par to the Canadian.

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/national/2011/07/25/2011-07-(25_stocks_slip_as_debt_ceiling_deal_hangs_in_balance_and_threat_of_us_default_looms.html)

Apart from the governments mandated obligations, the cost of capital will go up, which means most of us (the middle class who will be most affected by the debt plan as it stands right now) will have less purchasing power.  Food prices have already gone up and it will only get worse. It will affect people with mortgages, or car loans. They could get badly hurt. Interest rate increases are a huge concern for people in commercial real-estate. So, in other words it doesn’t look good. And worst case scenario-what if we were to end up like Greece?  Morning Call’s commercial investment guy reported that at three out of every four lunches he attends people are talking about the debt ceiling. I can do him one better. At my job, everyone is talking about it.

The American people don’t want to hear their elected representatives talk about how much they care about this country and want to do the right thing and then do nothing. It’s time for them to put egos and partisan politics aside. It’s time to compromise. Let’s talk about that word for a moment. Compromise has become synonymous with treason in Congress these days. The infuriating aspect of this crisis is this divisiveness in Washington. It seems these days that people go to Congress to look for a fight. They have this macho desire to prove how tough they are. This is not the fist time legislators have disagreed about economic policy-it won’t be the last. What does seem unprecedented though is the deliberate, malicious nature of the debt talks. There seems to be a willingness to derail honest efforts to reach an agreement that will SAVE OUR ECONOMY.

In conclusion, my plea is a simple yet urgent one: Washington-please put politics aside and come up with a balanced-meaning everybody shares the cost-not just wealthy Americans, and not just the middle class. We need a balanced debt plan for the sake of the economic future of this great nation. As for the dysfunction that represents Washington these days, here is a chance to redeem itself-the world is watching.

Now I've done it!

Even though our team didn't make it to the superbowl "again", I would say that poetic justice was achieved when the whole night was a flop, starting with Christina Aguilera's flibber, to the weak-ass ads, (although the one where the guy licks the cheese off the dude's fingers had me rolling.) to the tepid half-time show(why did Fergie feel the need to rub herself all over my man like that-sooooo inapropriate! Say what you will about Axle Rose, but she DID NOT do him justice.)  And THANK THE GOOD LORD I  MISSED THE DAMN KARDASHIAN COMMERCIAL. Yes, God is GOOD!
Anyway...Congrats Green Bay-but this is not the purpose of my return after an unexpected hiatus. It is to let the world know that I have begun tweeting, and also to apologize in advance for the "ahem" inconvenience that this may have caused some of my friends, past and present...who may recognize themselves in one or more of my scribes.

First and foremost: all names, dates and places have been altered to protect the not-so-innocent. If you recognize yourself and are offended, I apologize...but, if you're mad now...whatchu gon' do when the book comes out?

Ha ha!!!! Deucessssssss!!!!

Throwback-Part II

Folks...I apologize in advance for the inconsistency of fonts...

 

Tia’s Pumpkin Party: The Night I learned to Listen

8:00 p.m. Tia and I paint our nails and are sort of watching t.v. waiting for our guests to arrive. We're having a party tonight! Well-she is-there mainly her friends...

At about 8:30 the door bell rings. It’s Kate and Toya. Kate is a friend of  Sam's ( the boyfriend of Tia's friend Tara) and
Toya is Kate’s roommate. Toya is beautiful; thin, brown skinned and large doe-slanted eyes-a gorgeous smile and southern drawl. She’s the walking, talking poster child  for la vie Brooklyn Boheme. She makes me sick immediately. Fine, I’ll admit it- I’m a tad jealous. But in a healthy way-meaning, I’m the expert at repressing those feelings.

Kate is pretty too-laid back and soft spoken.  She has long red hair and huge, green "searching eyes."Very “hippie chick;” very Fort Greene.

We introduce each other; get the pleasantries out of the way-and Kia brings out a bottle of wine. It’s about time.

For the most part, I hate socializing, and tonight I really wasn’t in the mood. At that moment, Angela-’s Tiacousin arrives, with a bottle of rum and watermelon punch.  Now I’m excited, and a little more in the mood to socialize. The guests begin to arrive all at once-exactly one hour after the official start time of 8 p.m.

I suppose as  general party etiquette, if you don’t want to appear overly eager, and you don’t want to miss the food-which is why you probably came in the first place, you should arrive precisely an hour after the official start time. I think it’s a foolproof way to ensure that you’ll be fed, without sitting around starving, trying to be polite waiting around for people to show up so your starving ass can eat. And God knows we’re all starving.  Isn't that the real reason any of us attend these things? 

 Sam and Rich(who is supposedly semi-dating Kate) arrive. Rich is a drummer for a skinhead ska band. He’s about four feet tall, black, stocky and chock full of tattoos. I  met him a couple of times before, hanging out with Sam and his girlfriend Mara. Tia couldn’t stand him, but I could find no fault in him, at least not yet.  Finally, John arrives, the last of Tia’s guests. He’s a musician and another Brooklyn Boho. I overhear him tell my roommate that he’s fasting, and will only be able to drink the home-made ginger-iced tea he brought with him, and whatever other juice she may have  in the house. 

Ever since I’ve known him John’s been fasting. All I know is that he better eat something-he looks like he's going to die. It’s like the flesh is hanging from his bones, and his face is gaunt.
Where his eyes should be are two deep hollow spaces. I wonder how in the hell he thinks that’s healthy. I can’t bear to look at him. 

The guests are settled and I’m feeling nice. I’m tipsy enough to be friendly and sociable. Tia’s retired to the kitchen to put last minute touches on the entrees she has prepared. ( I refuse to take responsibility for any nasty food).

People are talking, the mood is light and fun. I’m getting my drink on because I don’t know how much longer I can take talking. I want to moooove something. But I behave and do the right thing. I try to enter my two cents worth on the political conversation that has taken over the party. 

“I just wish people would vote their conscience”, I say.  I want to talk about who I want to vote for, and why everybody else should too-but I don’t, and the guilt has been eating away at me. What kind of activist am I? How can I have a political career if I can’t voice my opinion without fear? I make myself sick. 

Heads nod all around. We can’t believe the outocome of the election, even though we knew he would win again. I should have voted my conscious. Conservative republicans and the Christian right could actually count on the democratic vote based on so-called liberal-democratic views on abortion, gay marriage, and so forth. I can’t believe how big a role religion played in the campaign.

“I know,” said Kate-the Catholic Church told its members, that it was a sin not to vote for HIM.” Heads shake in disgust and contempt of the new administration. We’re fucked for the next four years, says Rich. He’d been quiet all evening, his mouth didn’t open the entire evening except to put a fork full of food in it.

“What bugs me is this whole democratic/republican bullshit. If you ask me, the candidates are the same, it’s just that one supports big tax-cuts and the other doesn’t. One supports social welfare, the other doesn’t. But they are both rich, sons of bitches that don’t give a damn about you or me.  You know who was a flip flopper-and a stump speecher. I didn’t trust him at all. “

”Yeah,” said Kate-but you know that flip flop thing was created by the right…

“I don’t buy that bull-shit!" I said, a little louder than I wanted to.  "I’m tired of the left blaming the right and the right blaming the left."  You-know-who did did vote for the war:  it doesn’t matter if he thought it was the right thing to do or not. He just has to man up. He voted for it. Who cares what party you belong to? I know he can’t come right out and say he’s for or against gay marriage, but you can’t be on all sides of an issue-especially if you’re running for president. Let’s face it-voters want a president that they can count on. So what if the right introduced it, it’s what helped them win the election. You-know-who-didn’t do enough to defend why he flip- flopped. We knock the right down too much, but I think if other parties-well, the democrats especially-took a page from the republican handbook the democrats may be able to win back the White House. Personally, I want to see labor issues and the plight of the working poor in this country addressed, they never are, except as sound-bites.”

“I agree,” says Kate, nodding her head solemnly. 

As if on cue, Tia came into the living room with a tray of food. I caught Kate staring over at

Rich, in the corner pouring himself a drink. I got up and went to the kitchen to make myself a stiff drink-all that political talk made me thirsty. The democrats had really pissed me off this election. I took a sip of my drink and seriously considered becoming a republican.

“Everybody! Everybody! Tia called, interrupting my reverie. Just a quick word about the food…” The mini conversations emanating from every corner of the living room ceased as Tia took the floor, looking quite pleased with herself.

She walked around the table pointing to each entrée. “This is pumpkin fettucini with mushroom, cheese and…, pumpkin seed salad with olive oil dressing, olive oil and pumpkin topenade and pumpkin soup. Actually, it’s not reeeallly pumpkin soup-it’s butternut squash.”  She giggled and looked around. No one else got the joke.

”You made all this?” Asked Toya, her wide eyes glistening.  I hated her.

“Yeah…”she said, casting glance to the floor, feigning humility. I wanted to slap her.  She knew she loved the attention.

Wows and hmmms and aahhhhs could be heard around the room. I stood in the kitchen and admired her presentation.

Tia’s no joke,” John piped up. He was the first one in line for a plate. It was actually nice to see him eat something. 

 “She cooks for my parties all the time. Tia’s infamous in Fort Greene for her parties and her cooking. You haven’t had a party in a while though, Tia? What’s up?” He asked, shoveling mounds of pumpkin what have you in his plate. He actually had to take two plates.

“Oh…I don’t know, she said. It’s just so much work.”

“But you’re so good at it.”

“Ahhh, thank you, and there’s plenty more so please, don’t be shy folks,-eat!”

And eat they did. 

I cannot tell a lie- the food was superb. One of the best meals she had ever cooked and it was going to be my last with her.

“Hmm….Tia, this butternut squash soup is to die for,” said Kate.

I watched Tia mingle with her guests;  envying her and pitying her at the same time. I envied her for having the guts to do what she did-she really put herself out there.  She would always be successful because she was a giving person, but I pitied her because I knew she did it trying to impress people and meet “real” friends through these parties-The guest list for her parties had changed over the four years I lived with her.  I knew she was trying to meet people that she could relate too and share a closeness with, rather than just having random friends. I realized it because I lived in New York City for four years hoping to find the same thing. I just didn’t try so hard. Perhaps I should have. Time for another drink.

“You’re drinking my favorite beer,” I said to Rich, who was still hovering by the table, sipping a Yeungling.

“Oh, you like Yeungling? We brought a whole bunch. Rich tapped Sam on his shoulder, interrupting his conversation with some poor, drunk chick.

She was having a hard time keeping her head up.  “She wants a Yeungling,” he nodded his head in my direction.

“There in the fridge, help yourself.” Sam said, returning to his conversation. He either didn’t care, or didn’t notice the girl was half asleep. Knowing Sam he didn’t care. He was proving his point and that's all that mattered.

“Thanks," I said. "I’ll get one later. Right now, I want some of the hard stuff”-I poured myself a glass of coconut rum and watermelon punch, and returned to the observatory, my spot in the kitchen where I had the best view in the house.

A few minutes later, Sam  and Angel call me out to the terrace for a smoke. Finally!  Since I lost my job, and had no income, I wasn’t able to afford the luxury. I had been without smoke or drink for months-I didn’t know you couldn’t buy beer with foodstamps, which is why I looked forward to these parties! I had to give up everything, because I could no longer afford it. All I had was my foodstamps. What I couldn’t buy with them, I’d have to do without.  So when Gerrard lit up , and my nostrils caught the aroma of fresh smoke, it was euphoria!  I was happy to be here. My needs were being taken care of. Tia’s friends were my friends.  I decided that I wasn’t ready to leave my apartment.

“Act like this is your house, go out there and entertain people,” Angel whispered in my ear.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked between puffs.

“Act like this is your house, and entertain people,” she repeated, inhaling deeply off her Capri slim.  I was feeling the effects of the smoke and drink so it took me a while to process things, and when I did, I was dramatic about it. She meant that if I wanted to stay, I had to act like I belonged there, instead of hiding in the shadows and letting Tia run the show, like I usually did.  I thought about it, and decided that she may be right-except that Tia really was running the show-it was her party. The one thing Angel did help me realize though was that if I wanted something, I better act like I wanted it. I wanted what I had tonight.  Intelligent debate, smokes , food.

“When Tia told me about your situation  I was so sad.” So she and Angel were talking about me...

“ I hated that bitch Tia roomed with before. Rich handed me another cigarette.  I took a long, deep pull. “Oh… yeah, well…I don’t want to leave, trust me. I’ve tried every avenue available to me-we’ll see what happens…” I was really feelin' the effects now, and I was cold. It was time to go back inside and re-enter the party.

11:00 p.m.

Angel, , Sara and Tia were showing Toya how to belly dance. Tia must have been waiting for us to come back inside because as soon as we came in, she ran into the kitchen, to retrieve the Pumpkin pie and ice cream for dessert. 

Pumpkin Pie and pumpkin ice cream. I didn’t realize the shit would be sooo damn good! I lost myself for a moment devouring it.  At this point, the party had broken off into two groups, with two separate conversations.  On one side of the room, was John, Angel and Toya. On the other, Sam, Sara, Kate and myself.  I couldn’t  participate in either of them,  I had nothing to contribute. And besides, I wanted to dance-not talk. We talked for two hours straight already.

“Everybody,” I shouted, cutting into the conversations, you’re all talking way too much.” I wasn’t trying to be rude-just stating a fact.

“She’s right”, somebody agreed. I think it was Rich, but I don’t remember. It didn’t matter, they continued to talk amongst themselves and I continued to drink.

Rich came and sat beside me. I don’t know if he expected me to start a conversation with him or something, and maybe I had offended him but he claimed he had a private joke to tell, and moved his chair away from mine, and closer to Kate, Sara and Sam. Eventually, he moved to the couch, and I could swear he was giving me dirty looks. But then again, I was drunk, and paranoid. Well, whatever it was, it was rude, and I knew that I wasn’t imagining him acting like an asshole, and after I gave him crackers too. I was offended and horrified. Did my feet smell? Did my breath stink? What did I do? Was it my imagination, or was Rich antagonizing me? I had to ignore him because I already knew his reputation. Besides, Kate was vying for his attention the whole time-weren’t they seeing each other? It didn’t look like it, because Rich hardly paid her any attention. I had been in situations like this before-real and imagined, where some chick gets mad at the dude she’s interested in because he’s paying more attention to me then her. I was really trying to avoid that tonight. Which is why I wore an oversized dress over my tight jeans-nothing form fitting, no titillating cleavage showing. Anyway…as the night progressed and I got drunker I relaxed a little bit, and resumed doing what I do best-judging people.  That Toya chick was really pretty. Did she and John have something going on? Sam  and Sara were trying to compete for control of the room, Sara like myself was just an innocent bystander-and Kate well, I couldn’t tell what was up with Kate. I was sitting in my own world observing-when suddenly John asked Tia a question about the doorbell. We always tell people to ring the middle buzzer when they come over-but I forgot that we have two.

“Oh yeah,” I heard Tia say. “The Raja bell, remember that Renee?” How could I forget?  She installed that bell so that Raja, "my boyfriend"  wouldn’t wake her up when he rang the original bell, which rang in her room.  Raja used to come over early in the morning-I can’t really blame her for being upset, but it wasn’t my fault that the bell only rang in her room. The problem with the
Raja bell was that whenever it rang, it would buzz our next-door neighbors, and whenever their bell rang, it buzzed our bell. There was a lot of annoying bell buzzing going on around the time that the “Raja bell” was installed. We reminisced about all the time he spent in our apartment, and how she hated him so much that when he came over and rang the wrong bell, she would come to her window and tell him to ring the right one, rather then answering the door and letting him in. It was strange to be laughing about it now; I never thought I would. The same went for the next dude-Kory, whom I think she hated even more than Raja. There sure were a lot of memories in that apartment. The rooms were full of us.  I learned a lot about my roommate and myself during our tenure together.Tia was a control freak. None of my friends ever came over, my family stayed away-except for my sister, because they noticed that she controlled the apartment; non-threateningly but matter-of-factly. They saw that she controlled the apartment while I was left to the tiny cupboard that was  my room. Part of that was my fault; I should have acted like I owned the apartment then too-I was paying half the rent, but I realized tonight, that this was not my apartment. I did not own it. It was time to get out into the world and start having my own parties; no talking allowed.

1:00 a.m.

The Questions Game-warning: never play this game while you are drunk. You will have to answer for things that you would never have admitted to if you were sober and in your right mind. What happens is that you ask someone a question, they can’t answer the question-they’re supposed to answer back with a question for you or for someone else. The game was fun for a while until Angel asked John if he wanted to sleep with me, and he simply answered yes.  Thank God alcohol was involved and I pretended not to hear.

It was time for the party to end-people were restless and ready to leave. I was feeling bad for Tia; she was oblivious to the fact that people were bored now. Especially Rich , who already had his coat on and was pacing back and forth by the door, like a dog anxious to go out for a  piss. He was begging Sam to leave with him. Sam was drunk and wanted to stay-he lived on the upper west side and didn’t want to have to take the train home at this hour. He extended the invitation to Rich, and the rest of the gang. Sam was trying to convince Toya that she should stay as well. 

“Let the girl go,” I insisted, with a hint of bitterness in my voice.  “She wants to leave.” And who the hell did Sam think he was-inviting people to stay in our apartment? The look she gave me was a cross between-“thank you,” and what the fuck is your problem? Rich vehemently refused to stay. He actually got nasty about it, shaking his head with disgust when Sam beligerently  told him he wasn’t going anywhere. I handed Toya and Kate their jackets, discreetly pushing them out the door. Yet somehow Sam had convinced Toya to stay long enough for her to recite her butta-fly chocolate pie-sugar- sweet nursery rhyme, which called for audience participation. These goddam Fort Greene boho’s-they just don’t know when to quit. 

This brought back bad memories for me, and I wasn’t in the mood for this wanna be def-poet shit.  Tia gave me a funny look when she realized I wasn’t playing along.  I wasn’t trying to be a bitch; I just didn’t want to play.  Toya was ruining my buzz with this poem-it was wack and it made no sense. Besides, it  brought me back to the first party Tia and I had together. When I fell in love with the other def –jam wanna be poet Raja,  fell in love, and had my heart broken.  The irony of the whole situation was that, she was the kind of woman he would have been attracted to-the kind of woman I wished I was.

When she finished her poem, I clapped for her as loudly as I could to show her that there were no hard feelings, (it might have come across as a little bit obnoxious) and I didn’t hate her stupid, talented and gorgeous guts.   She was definitely talented, but didn’t deserve all the accolades  Sam was giving her. It was like he was doing it on purpose--to get back at me or something.  He had embarrassed me earlier on at the party-making me repeat my own silly rhyme, which was in no way intended to be heard in public by strangers, or  judged, like I was in some kinda def-poetry slam competition.

Tia asked me to check on the pumpkin pie before I went out on the terrace to smoke and I made up a little rhyme about not trusting a girl that’s high (me) to check on the pumpkin pie.  He keeps bugging me to recite it, even though I tell him it’s not worth repeating, it's a stupid drunken diddy, but as is his nature, Sam persisted, and so I recited it. Toya laughs me off, and says to Gerrard in her stupid southern drawl, “Oh, she’s trying to do a spoken word thing,” Sam laughs,  turns to me and says, “Oh…that was really bad.” The whole party laughs. “I know,” I shoot back.  “I’m not a def poet, asshole.”

Rich is as phony as the Luis Vuitton purses that wide hipped  chicks carry on the subway when he gives us the goodbye kiss on the cheek. He’s mad as hell and won’t take it any-more!  He’s the first one stomping out the door. The rest of the entourage follows behind.  Kate mouths,  “I’ll call you” and then starts bragging to Tia about something that Toya does and is really good at. I don’t remember what it is, and I don’t know who cared.  Toya doesn’t needs any more marketing. She’s the last one to leave. She gives me a hug and I practically push her out the door. Party’s over.

The Wrap Up

I’m cleaning up getting ready to unwind. My roomate’s talking about what a great success the party was. This was the first time in the four years I’d lived here that I wanted to slap her. Could she be that self- absorbed? The party was wack-and I was tired having to fake my feelings. I had been doing it for four years, and it was catching up with me.  How could she not see Rich anxious to leave-and didn’t’ she think it was odd that everyone was ready to leave at the same time? That pissed me off. I mean, I understood that people had to go-but it was the way they left that pissed me off.  For her, not me, after all, these were her friends.

We’re all sitting around after the guests left, shooting the shit.  Tia, of course,  was patting herself on the back about what a great success the party was. I knew that she was leading up to something because she kept talking about Toya. And sure enough, here it comes:  

“I feel really intimidated by beautiful women.  Does anyone else feel that way?”

I may be drunk, but I know when I’m being psycho-analyzed. She’s been doing it to me for four years. I was tired of it. I knew she was referring to the way I was acting towards Toya. I took the bait. 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh I don’t know, I mean whenever I see beautiful women, they just look like they have it together, and I think wow-it must be cool to be them.

“I don’t know…I suppose I look at them, and think hey-I’m just as beautiful!” It’s not hard to be beautiful. You should know that, I shot at her. She winced. I knew it was mean, but she deserved it. I really had her thinking I was stupid, all these years allowing her to make judgments about me. I probably should have addressed the issue right then and there, but I didn’t. Instead, I got off the couch and began to clean up the house, which is what I always did.

Tonight would be the last time I cleaned up after her.

Welcome to the Curmudgeon's Corner

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????

My Humble Opinion-Part 2

I just read this article in the New York Observer about Jay Z’s new book “Decoded.” It talks about  his rise from drug dealer to millionaire mogul. 

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.  

 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.  All of that gun and gang bullshit is imported from here.

The ghettos of the United States, are a consequence of socio-economic injustice and inequality stemming from slavery. American slavery, which resulted in Jim Crow, defacto and de jure segregation. Canadians do not share this history. ( I will never say that Canada does not suffer from racism but-American racism is a very special breed, which is a consequence of it's economic system. Lack of quality public school education, health care woes are also specific American issues.

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)

 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.

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...

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-