My Rabbits Gotta Eat

A lot of times I think that if I just keep screaming long enough and loud enough, somebody will eventually listen or at the very least call the Federales so that they can put me away. I don't worry about my voice giving out because I purchased from "As Seen On TV" a battery operated Mega megaphone that guarantees me my voice will be heard at it's maximum volume for least 30 days or my money will be cheerfully refunded and if I order in the next 10 minutes, I can get an extra Mega megaphone if I pay just shipping and handling. Which I did. But the downsize was, they didn't come with extra batteries.

Now I can scream and rant and rave just as long as I want to and sometimes for

effect, I foam at the mouth. Anyway I was thinking about the concept of friendship and what makes a good friend. First of all I think there must be some sort of mutual attraction between two people. Not sexually. It can be... oh, I don't know, just something about another person, man or woman that makes you attracted to them. Maybe it's a pheromones thing or that person was nice to you or he/she is non threatening. Sometimes, friendships spring up out of adversity, that is, the two of you started out hating each other and through a lot of unnecessary drama, you realized that you had a lot in common and were pretty much alike, even if you happened to be polar opposites, you managed to established some sort of bond.

What has this to do with anything? I don't know, since in today's world everyone is seen as the enemy and people have divided themselves up into small clicks or gangs or social groups or in psychological terms, in-groups and out-groups all of which are the same to some degree only extinguishable by the level of violence perpetrated by said group.

Rarely, if ever, is any relationship conducted on equal territory. It's more like neutral ground. You either turn in your guns at the door or mutually agree not to shoot one another. Looking at this in wide screen Hd with 3d glasses, it seems that this concept doesn't work too well when dealing with each other on a racial basis. Everyone wants to be on top and some think it's their right to be on top.

I am reminded of a story that used to go around among black people not too long ago. We used to talk bout friendship a lot. We talked about the relationship between white people and black people on a personal basis and the fact that two years ago your neighbor, a Mr. Palansky, who was white, loaned you five bucks one morning to put gas in your car so that you could make it to work. Now that happened two years ago and Mr. Palinsky rarely speaks to you, but you know that it's all good and that's just his way. On the other hand, your drinking buddy, who you got just a little too drunk with one night, brought you home and put you to sleep on the couch and left.

You conveniently forgot about that cigarette you had to have and in the process of smoking, fell asleep on the couch, setting fire to your house. Being the friend that he was, your buddy thought he should check back on you and to his horror saw your house fully engulfed in flames and the wail of fire trucks off in the distance. Disregarding his own personal safety, he broke in and pulled your drunken ass, your wife, your grandmother, your dog, and your pet rabbit out the front door as the fire trucks pulled up in front of your house.

Now it's three years down the road and you still remember the five bucks that Mr. Palanski loaned you and what a hellva nice guy he is, but when your old pal asked you to float him a loan, you reached into your back pocket, opened your wallet, fiddled around with bills with your fingers and finally looked up at him and said, "Man, I got just enough here to get the rabbit some food". You saw the hurt and disappointment in his face and for some unknown reason, this angered you , because you felt he was somehow taking advantage of your friendship and you blurted out, "Why you always coming round here with your hand out?" His mouth opened in disbelief as you continued, "What have you done for me lately? My rabbits gotta eat!"

As impossible as it might seem, apparently you can still purchase a Negro here in Amerikkka quite cheaply by today's monetary standards. And still on the subject of friendship and to be fair, you can purchase just about anybody for the right amount of money. Loans are an especially good way to purchase friends, but you also run the risk of turning your "friend" into an enemy when you demand your money back, but beware, these "friendly transactions" have the habit of turning out very nasty.

I'm outta here.

The Adversary Is Within Us

Every time that I think I can't figure out what my next post will be about, I only have to read something on the Web. I think it's horrible that the people of this so called country would boo the First Lady. I think it's horrible that black people are more concerned about who Tyler Perry casts in his new movie than the treatment our children are receiving. Black people are getting short changed in every aspect of society and all you want to complain about is the shit that goes on in the entertainment industry? Or your hair and the upkeep of your hair and why black men are running for the mountains of "I Can't Take This Shit Anymore" with white women.

Your kids are roaming the streets at two, three or four in the morning. Your kids are in

gangs. And it's not their fault, really, it's not. It boils down to join or die. And you can't be bothered, because you need to find out who survived on Survivor or who won Dancing With the Stars of which you will never be one. Your kids are getting killed at a wholesale rate. You're losing your future. WE are losing the future of this country. And all you crazy, infantile, post racial Kneegroes want to talk about is politics. Most of you can tell me what Newt said or who Cain felt up or Ron Paul's latest promise that he'll be unable to fulfill. You want to talk about Entertainment Tonight, The Biggest Looser, The Housewives of one of the many fucked upped cities in Amerikkka, but you don't want to talk about our future in this country, the future of our children, the abuse of our children, the lack of education for our children and why our kids are roaming the streets at such early hours.

I remember when you jumped all over Bill Cosby for telling the truth. He got his eyes opened in a most unpleasant manner and when he tried to convey the problem to you, you and the so called, above it all educated, I'm on a equal basis with white people and therefore this doesn't affect me black people condemned him for airing "our" dirty laundry to the white public at large. Here's a flash for you. We don't have any "dirty laundry". White people know everything about us that they need to know, or you can say the reality of it is... they just don't give a shit. They have the upper hand and aren't in any hurry to abdicate the position. We are the enemy that is us.

When you helped to elect Barak Obama for president, YOU KNEW. Deep down, YOU KNEW that he wasn't going to make your well being his priority. You conveniently overlooked one aspect of his character. He was a politician. You also overlooked the naked hatred of the Big Giant Heads in Washington. But you had hope. You had hope on a deep preternatural level that maybe, just maybe he would be the one to make a difference. But it wasn't to be.

Now your angry. Deep down, your angry, because some time during the course of the current events in this country, you realized that Post Racial America was a lie. That nothing had changed. Same shit different day. The band played on. Your dream of a new dawn died a tragic and ignoble death. And yet you persevere. You persevere in the same old destructive, self hatred behavior that has made you a joke in the eyes of the world, the whole fucking planet. You insist on letting your children wear their pants down around their asses as an expression of what? That they couldn't make it to the bathroom to take a dump? That rap is an art form? Yeah right. Ice T and his white wife, Coco are laughing at your black asses all the way to the bank. And so is the "reformed" Ice cube, the "reformed" Snoop Dog, the "reformed" LL Cool J, the "reformed" Queen, who I understand won't even talk to you Kneegroes. When Are you Kneegroes going to reform?

When are you going to realize that the only people that you have to fall back on is yourselves? That together you can accomplish anything that you set your minds to. The key word here is "Together". As in a group, as a people who have a future. Other races and cultures that are in this country and come to this country and who have come to this country, understand this concept. What is our problem? Is the slave mentally still, to this day, so deeply imbedded in us that we can't break free? Are we doomed to act out and pass down this self destructive behavior from generation to generation? I can't answer that. I am just a fool. But I do know one thing and of that I am certain. We must find a way to prevent the deaths of so many of our children.

THE BLACK FAMILY PLEDGE

BECAUSE we have forgotten our ancestors, our children no longer give us honor.

BECAUSE we have lost the path our ancestors cleared kneeling in perilous undergrowth, our children cannot find their way.

BECAUSE we have banished the God of our ancestors, our children cannot pray.

BECAUSE the old wails of our ancestors have faded beyond our hearing, our children cannot hear us crying.

BECAUSE we have abandoned our wisdom of mothering and fathering, our befuddled children give birth to children they neither want nor understand.

BECAUSE we have forgotten how to love, the adversary is within our gates, an holds us up to the mirror of the world shouting, "Regard the loveless"

Therefore we pledge to bind ourselves to one another, to embrace our lowliest, to keep company with our loneliest, to educate our illiterate, to feed our starving, to clothe our ragged, to do all good things, knowing that we are more than keepers of our brothers and sisters.

We ARE our brothers and sisters.

IN HONOR of those who toiled and implored God with golden tongues, and in gratitude to the same God who brought us out of hopeless desolation, we make this pledge.

Maya Angelou

The Underground Railroad to the City of the Apes

Just a note of caution. The road ahead on this post is a rocky one.

Psychological Warfare is a term used to describe the new Jim Crow tactics of white people in the 21st century. I think of it as shifting consciousness. I see it as a way for the MSM and TPTB to shift their mythos of bad behavior onto the backs of black people exclusively.

Bad behavior is not the province of black people alone, although the TPTB have made it their top priority to showcase it as such and The Big Giant Heads who are looking for any reason to vilify black people, jump at any story to use as proof that black people as a whole have taken the midnight train to Jungle city.

I remember seeing footage of the capture of John Dillinger, a notorious gangster of the 20's or 30's. The police were lined up to shake his hand and pose with him for pictures. Never was he referred to as an animal or a mad dog, which was what he was. He was allowed to maintain his dignity and humanity. The same can be said for mostly all of the white gangsters of the era. As a matter of fact NASCAR grew out of the running of moonshine by violent criminals. Figure that one out. Bonnie and Clyde are remembered as folk heroes. The only way they could catch Al Capone was through income tax evasion. Each one of these individuals mentioned and those who are not, were deemed exceptions to the rule of the peace loving, I just want to be left alone white person. In fact every crazy, socially maladjusted white person is considered an abnormality and not an indication of the race as a whole, which could live together in peace and harmony if it just wasn't for those pesky darkies.

Black people, on the other hand are a whole different bunch of rutabagas. We are

looked at as a monolithic people who worships a monolithic god with monolithic brain functions that are linked together with a hive mind that makes it easier to deal with us, because once you know what one black person is thinking, then you understand the collective as a whole. Criminality and violence are just two of the primary emotions being transferred throughout the great link that makes up the hive mind of black people. And lest not forget sex. Primarily, the highly motivated and turbo charged sex of the black woman, a female comparable to no other and without peer, who with her highly efficient and salacious body and firm round buttocks, can produce baby after baby on and on to infinity. She Never. Ever. Stops.

Those black people who run afoul of the law or are thought to have run afoul of the law or look like they might run afoul of the law are designated as animals. They are denied their humanity, no matter what the crime they committed, might commit or because of their violent nature are thinking about committing. They are to be shunned or avoided. No matter how rich, well educated or successful, they will eventually commit a crime. They're actually thinking about robbing or ravaging white people while in the process of shopping, driving their flashy cars, taking their kids to school, watching sports, reading a book, using the computer, eating, praying, drinking or taking a shit. To all, if any, white people reading this, that nice, well mannered young black man is probably thinking about robbing you and ravaging your girlfriend or wife, while shaking your hand and smiling at you. In fact, that's why he's smiling. See that poor assed old black man over there? The one with a gimpy leg and the bad arm? He's probably thinking about robbing you as I type this. He's probably thinking that if he was 10 years younger and didn't have a bum leg, he would chase down your old lady or daughter or female dog or your pet gerbil and ravage the shit out of them. Of course he wouldn't ravage your pet chicken. That would be just plain nasty

Of course, I might be wrong. The world is not absolute. Nothing is. Wait a minute. Let me back up a little. Statistics are absolute. Statistics are never wrong. Statistic cannot be manipulated. All of us believe that the results of a poll of maybe a 1000 people is the will of 300,000,000 and should be regarded as gospel. Statistics are the bane of black people. Each time a Big Giant Head wants to back up any racially motivated argument about black people, he pulls out this big stick with statistics burned into it and proceeds to wail the living shit out of any black person within reach. You can't argue with statistics, he tells you, no matter how skewed they are. Statistics are sacred. Statistics are almost godlike in the eyes of the Big Giant Heads.

Black people just can't seem to catch a break.

And so it goes. Now I must remove tongue, which is firmly embedded in cheek and head back up the hill. The picture on the sidebar of Jacquelyn Williams is a heart breaker. She is missing. What's the "community" going to do?

Taye Diggs Goes to the Mountain

Generally as a rule and it's not a hard and fast rule, I tend to ignore the entertainment industry. I'm just not interested in who married who, who got divorced or who cheated on who. It's a little too much drama for me. This is one of those times that I'm going to make an exception. And That exception would center around Taye Diggs.

Now this story broke back in October and it's still on my mind from time to time. Some of you kneegroes, I know, have already forgotten. Some of you went, "aha! I knew it". I bet more that a few of you black women called him everything but a child of God. Then there were those of you who probably said or thought, "his business is his business". I fell into the latter group when I first read the article. His business is his business.

But like I said, why did it keep nagging at me? I don't know Taye Diggs from the pimples on J.Lo's ass. The only thing I know about Taye Diggs is that he's a sometime actor with minimum talent and modest good looks. Well, that's not entirely true. I now know that he has had this longing, this goal, this desire or craving if you will, to make the hook up with a white woman. I know that he has felt that his life would not be complete until he achieved this goal.

I know that in his quest for the only woman who could provide him succor and peace on this earth was white. I know that in his pursuit for perfection, he must have dated (sic) a lot of black women or dare I said played a lot of black women, because they never stood a chance with him.

I only bring this up because I haven't heard this sentiment from a black men in quite some time. Ok. His mother said it. But he confirmed it and I take it she was speaking his thoughts and feelings at the time. There's an old saying that describes black men like Taye Diggs: The only thing a black woman can do for me is, show me the way to a white woman.

I guess a lot of you think that his life is his life and I'm making too big a deal of this. Maybe I am, but when you put yourself out there, you should be aware of how you're presenting yourself. You should be aware that certain things are meant to be private, certain doors are supposed to remain closed. We all have private desires that we keep in the deepest recesses of our hearts, not to be shared or probed by the pubic at large. When we do happen to disclose one of our desires to the public eye, it's usually an emotional moment and means a great deal to us. Taking this into consideration, I have made the above extrapolations. Of course, like everything else, I'm probably wrong. But I do think that maybe this has gone through the heads of most of you and if it did, you now know a little bit more about Taye Diggs than you want to and that he intended you to.

I have also been made aware of Tyler Perry and his ongoing feud with Black women. What is wrong with you people? All of you are willing players in this Cosmic Comedy of the Circus From Hell. You argue and fight amongst yourselves while our children are literally dying and getting the shit beat out of them by none other than their own parents. Where the hell is this vaunted community you're always hollering about? Where is this village that's supposed to be raising our children? I suspect it's just part of the shit you say to make yourselves seem oh so knowledgeable and wise. One thing is for certain, Taye Diggs won't have to worry about his child being bullied. Maybe, just maybe, Taye Diggs knows something that the rest of us don't, because he sure got the hell out of Dodge and away from you Kneegroes as fast as his little skinny legs could carry him.

I'm glad I got that out of the way. But you know what? I'm getting really, really scared. I'm getting scared that there's no hope for us as a people. I'm getting scared that we're becoming as twisted as those that twisted us. No wonder I moved to the hill. And so it goes.

The music of an unhappy people, of the children of disappointment; they tell of death and suffering and unvoiced longing toward a truer world, of misty wanderings and hidden ways. W.E.B. Du Bois

Dead Children

1. Jasmine McClain - 10 years old. Hung herself
2. Ashlynn Conner - 10 years old. Hung herself
3. Carl Joseph Walker Hoover - 11 years old Hung himself

These were just in the last few months!

Zulus' , Black Men and Ninjas

Before you get into this post, I should tell you that I've been posting pictures on the side bar of Old Skool artists. Without the link. Which, I take it, you already know about by now. Is that stupid or what? I apologize. It never occurred to me that you might want to have a look at the particular person being showcased. There's a wealth of history available to us as Black people and I failed in showing you where it is. Again. Please accept my apologies for overlooking the obvious.

The history of the Zulu people can be traced back to the 19th century hero, Shaka Zulu, who, after the death of his father Senzangakhona, conquered many nations and amalgamated them under his reign, thus creating a huge Zulu nation.

In 1828 Dingaan, Shaka’s brother, assassinated him. After Shaka’s death in 1828, Dingaan became the king of the Zulus but was killed in the battle of Ncome. However, the Zulu people won this battle. Cetshwayo, his brother, took over the reigns and in 1879 the Zulu warriors defeated the British in the battle of Isandlwana. In 1887 the British annexed Natal, today known as KwaZulu-Natal, and later incorporated Natal into a colony.

Many of the cultures, customs, and traditions of Shaka’s time remain the corner stones of the Zulu people, and each year the Zulu nation celebrates the Heritage Day during which they commemorate their hero, Shaka Zulu and also revive their cultural tradition.

The reason I give this very brief history of the Zulu people is because they

represented everything black men should be. They were warriors, with a warriors code of honor, not killers. They took pride in who they were. They were men. They protected their women and children. They were Zulu. If you belonged to the the tribe, you were Zulu.The same applies today. If you are black, you belong to the tribe.You have responsibilities. To your women. To your children. You are the "people of heaven". You are survivors. Why is this such a difficult concept to grasp?

The white society romanticizes the American Indian and elevates him to a near supernatural status after systematically trying to wipe him from the face of the earth and although I have nothing against Indians and they did get supremely fucked over by white people but the fact is, Indians don't want to have nothing to do with you Kneegroes anymore, even though some tribes held your ancestors as slaves and you can trace your genealogy back to certain tribes, you have been outed. Pure and simple. What you gonna do now? Because now you ain't entitled to all of that good stuff the government gives the Indians anymore and your feelings are hurt.

Let's take a look at the the Japanese Samurai, the ultimate warrior, poet and lover. You might think that these labels conflict with each other, but if you bother to check with the history of the Samurai, you'll find that all of these labels come together to form a complete person, because they involve intelligence, spirit, soul, dedication, honor and humanity, something that is lacking in the current generation of black men entering the world stage.

My intention is not to be harsh or to preach. It's just that there are certain

things that a man will not do or stand for. There are certain things that only a man (any man) can impart to his male child. And he can't do this stuff if he's not present. All the child support in the world won't remedy the situation. You can buy all the pampers and baby blankets and the books and the clothes and the lunch money that you can afford, but nothing... nothing can serve as a substitute for your presence in the life of a small child. You need to be there.

If you don't or think you can't be there or don't believe you have it in you to be there, then keep your tallywhacker in your pants. If you don't believe you are ready for a family, then either keep a good supply of condoms on hand or get yourselves fixed and stop shifting blame onto the woman in the relationship.

This is for you cheap assed Kneegro men out there who wrongfully think that condoms are for sissy's and think they dilute the experience of "new" punani, because you're too cheap or full of the white definition of what a man should be to spring for the the minor cash that would protect your and your partners futures and when, down the road, she shows up at your jobs, asking what you gonna do about your unborn child, you have the nerve to get upset.

THAT IS INSANITY!

Zulu warriors took responsibility for their choices in life. Can you black men say the same?

I'll Take My Bologna With Lard

Did you know that bologna (Baloney) is the closest thing to dog food that you can eat without actually eating dog food? This thought was going through my mind while making me a bologna sandwich, with cheese. I don't know where it came from, since I've been eating bologna almost all of my life. It was a staple in my house as I was growing up. Talk about an "aha" moment.

Here's what's in bologna. Bologna sausage is an American version of the Italian mortadella (a finely hashed/ground pork sausage with lard pieces). The American version can alternatively be made out of chicken, turkey, beef, pork, or soybeans.

It's got lard in it! (that's why it's so shiny) I wouldn't give lard to my dog!!! OK? Pork AND lard cannot be good for you. So......now I'm back. Here's something to think about. Any part that comes from a cow is considered 100% beef… any part, except for the hooves. Same applies to pork, lamb or whatever. You ain't gonna get a burger made from rib eye or sirloin. You couldn't afford it. Think about it. Think very hard about it. That's all I have to say.

Now. On to my original post. I had to get that in there. It's a Fool thing.

Annnnd. In keeping with the food theme. Some times back in one of my posts, I mentioned that growing your own food in a community garden was a good way to bring together a neighborhood and a way to get to know the people who share this reality with you. Well, it seems I might have been wrong about that. Check this out.

City Destroys Fruit Puree During Kitchen Inspection

City health inspectors (in Chicago) used bleach to destroy hundreds of pounds of

frozen fruit puree and threw out other food in a West Town kitchen on Thursday night, citing not safety violations but a lack of proper licensing.

The fruit -- apples, plums, raspberries, pears, blueberries and peaches from local growers harvested and frozen last summer -- belonged to pastry chef Flora Lazar, who valued it at thousands of dollars.

Lazar had rented space for her business, Flora Confections, at Kitchen Chicago, a shared cooking facility for small artisan bakers, candy makers and caterers. A second business, the caterer Sunday Dinner Club, said it lost more than $1,000 in discarded cassoulet, granola bars and baking supplies.

Both businesses said they have sought licenses from the Department of Business Affairs and Consumer Protection to operate at the kitchen, 324 N. Leavitt St. At first, they said, they were told multiple business licenses could not be issued to the same address.

Two weeks ago, the department issued a cease-and-desist order to the firms and said they could apply for the licenses. Spokeswoman Efrat Stein said it has had a consistent policy on shared kitchens since August.

The companies applied, paid the fees and invited the Chicago Department of Health inspectors. Lazar said they didn't know the inspectors would destroy any food that appeared to have been cooked, processed or opened before they arrived.

Lazar, who had planned to use the purees to make fruit gelees for Valentine's Day, tried to give the fruit to her son, but an inspector called in the Chicago Police Department to intervene. The bags of fruit were then slashed open and treated with bleach.

"We didn't know how the food would be handled after it left so we could not allow it to be moved," said Frances Guichard, food protection director at the health department.

"This puts me out of business for six months," Lazar said after losing the "irreplaceable" fruit. "I have done everything by the rules. Instead of making the food at home, which I could easily do, I sought out and rented space in a licensed kitchen. When [the city] finally said we could apply for a separate license, I did that. I paid my $600 and invited the inspectors here today."

Kitchen Chicago owner Alexis Leverenz said the city's rules seem to penalize small businesses like hers. Each time a renter applies to work in her kitchen, the health department inspects it again. Even Chicago's busiest restaurants may be inspected just once a year.

Even harsher, she said, is the department's threat to fine all of her clients if they find any one of them has committed a violation. "That's like giving everyone in the car their own ticket when a driver is stopped by the police," she said.

"Businesses like ours are good for the city," Leverenz said. "We have launched successful, well-loved businesses, created jobs and gotten people out of their unlicensed home kitchens. By making it so difficult they are sending people back home to work instead of going to a licensed facilities like ours."

Leverenz said the inspectors told her they would return Monday and that no food remaining in her kitchen was to be touched before then.

What can I say? It's back to bologna. They got you coming and going.

The people carrying out these orders are clogs in the machine. The same clogs existed in post World War 2 Germany whose only answers to cross examinations during the war crime trials was: "I was just following orders" These clogs will take your houses, they will call you at all hours of the day or night, they will lie to you, cheat you and steal from you and if you call them on it they will all say the same thing: "I have a job to do. I am just following orders."

These people are protected by layers of bureaucratic paperwork, which gives them a sense of anonymity and relieves them of any personal or moral responsibility. Some of them, maybe a lot, are just plain evil and enjoy the hell out of making other peoples lives as miserable as possible. And you wonder why I call them Big Giant Heads.

This country is changing right before your very eyes and you better find your place before it's too late, because the underclass can offer no resistance. You need to educate yourselves. You need to keep abreast of what's going on. You need to know what your options are. Kim Kardashian, Justin Bieber and Brad Pitt don't give a shit about you. In this day and age, "I didn't know" is one of the lamest excuses you can give. Nobody cares about: "I didn't know". You see all of that tiny print in a document and you don't pull out your glasses? You don't see: "two year contract?" Is that what you want? Do you want to keep eating Boloney with lard in it? Yall need to quit.

And they call me a fool?

A Vigorous Beat Down Builds Character in Black People

In my ongoing and foolish attempt to keep you Kneegroes informed, I came across the following rules to help you keep from going to jail, getting tased or participating in a plain old fashioned beat down wherein the officer piously strikes you around the head and shoulders when you are stopped and feel the need to talk back to him or her, whatever the case may be.

Now I know a lot of you already know the rules for Driving While Black and it would seem that a lot of you have forgotten and then there are those of you who still insist on thinking that somehow you've woken up in a parallel universe where everyone is equal.

Please discuss this with your children. It might save their lives. So let's just jump right in. The words in red are my comments.

1. When confronting an officer during a traffic stop, exhibiting anger or frustration at the onset of the encounter can change the outcome dramatically. Remain calm, keep your hands on the wheel and do not reach for your license or insurance papers until directed to. Most importantly, be respectful and do not challenge the officer’s authority directly – that’s what the courtroom is for. (Also turn off your car, take the keys out of the ignition and put them on the dash)

   Chino Hardin, an organizer with the Institute for Juvenile Justice Reform and Alternatives, recommended making mental notes of the officer’s words, and getting their name if possible. This information will be invaluable to your defense should you end up under arrest. Hardin also said that department heads will absolutely read formal complaints against their officers, (And ignore them) which can often be filed over the Internet. Follow up if you feel your rights have been trampled upon. If an officer has enough complaints registered against him or her, it creates a public record of bad behavior that can be used by lawyers to trigger settlements or pressure management to fire an officer, if necessary. (That's a lie)

   Pro tip: If it’s night, turn on your vehicle’s interior light to provide the officer with an additional sense of security, and make no movements without first telling the officer what you are reaching for and where it is. (Good idea. It might keep you from getting shot about 14 times. It's YOUR duty to make the officer feel all warm and cozy)

2. Keep quiet and assert your rights (Huh???)

   The U.S. Constitution (sic) gives every citizen the right to remain silent, even under police questioning. Whether you’re under arrest or not, you do not have to answer police questions, and you are always entitled to a lawyer. Since police can legally lie in order to use a suspect’s words against them, silence is always the best option. Simply inform the officer in a respectful manner that you wish to remain silent and would like to speak with an attorney. You should also politely ask if the officer is detaining you or if you are free to leave. (Now you've just gone and pissed him/her off)

   “You have to own these things,” Hardin explained. “You can’t just [be meek] about it. Police do know when you start asserting your rights. What you want to say is, ‘Am I being detained, or am I free to go?’ Once they say you’re being detained, which means you’re not free to go, then they must have reasonable suspicion to detain you. At that point you can say, ‘What is the reasonable suspicion that you have to detain me?’ Then they will have to articulate it.” (You are asking too many questions, which he/she perceives as a threat to his/her authority. The shit is now officially ON)

   Pro tip: Neill Franklin, the executive director of Law Enforcement Against Prohibition and a former undercover officer in Maryland, told the audience to always be aware of their surroundings during a police stop. If there are any witnesses to the encounter and you do not get arrested, try to reach out to them to discuss the incident immediately after it is over. (Good luck with that.) This is especially important if you plan on filing a formal complaint, as witness corroboration can substantially strengthen your claim.

3. Never consent to searches.

   Thanks to the nation’s drug policies, invasive searches for contraband substances or firearms are commonplace – but this is also where most people get tripped up. While you cannot tell an officer that you won’t let them search your vehicle or your person, you can say you do not consent, which triggers important constitutional protections under the Fourth Amendment. They may still execute the search, but even if they find contraband or weapons, a lawyer has a better chance at getting the case dropped if you did not give permission.

   “The only way to come out ahead is to say, ‘I don’t consent to a search,’” explained Ronald Hampton, former director of the National Black Police Association and a 24-year veteran of the Washington, D.C. metro police. “You have to say that. If you don’t, you’re not protected. If you don’t say that, [your lawyer] can’t represent you. The minute you say that, you’ve set the stage for the legal battle in court. (Or an ass whooping) You can’t argue with them on the street. They can be wrong and you can be right, but you can still get hurt.” (I just said that.)

   Pro tip: If an officer asks you to empty your pockets, respectfully decline and reiterate that you do not consent to any search. Emptying your pockets is the same as saying you consent. (Also, if you do and you do spill out a pharmaceutical store or the equivalent of a couple acres of marijuana, the officer can get you for having drugs in plain sight. Remember this one). The officer may still reach into your pockets if they claim to have felt something that may be a weapon, but by refusing you retain constitutional protections later on in court.

Ok. That's it. These rules apply mostly to white people, I think, although they say they work across the board. How little they know. I discovered late in life that it depends on who stops you. The phrase above in number 2 says," Police do know when you start asserting your rights". They also know that you haven't done anything when they stop you because they've already run a check on your plates and you know it too because you've glanced in the rearview mirror to watch them fooling with the computer. So your shit is already in the wind as soon as the lights go on and the siren gives you a couple of whoop whoops. It can only go down hill from there. And Lawd help yo black ass if you pull out your cell phone. In your hand. With the camera function on.

I do believe whole heartily that you should not agree to a search whether in your auto OR at home and don't let that old "nothing to hide" line fool you. Ignore it. It's a lie. Police lie. It's their job to lie. They are on the job. And by the way, if a policeman knocks on your door, DO NOT LET HIM/HER in. When you do, you're granting consent and consent is a VERY important word

I'm headed back up the Hill now. Ignore this post at your own risk. If you've read this and still believe the police have your best interest at heart, then you're on your own. But whatever you believe, keep one thing in mind. WHO is stopping me.

Welcome to Poeass City

It would seem that things are not as they seem here in Amerikka. The MSM is talking about the beginnings of Class Warfare as if it was something new. See,... that's how you're manipulated and always have been manipulated. Class warfare has always been with us. We use to call it the haves and the have nots. That's why TPTB separated us into tiers, that consisted of the rich, upper class, upper middle class, middle class and just plain poor. There's even old money vs. new money.

So. According to the MSM the middle class is disappearing. Which section of the middle class would that be? Would it be the upper middle class, the middle class or the lower middle class? Since class warfare is almost amongst us, it would be to our advantage to know the difference.

I think we can forget about the lower middle class. They're toast. They were just hanging on anyway. They were the paycheck to paycheck crowd that shopped at Wallmart, wore off the rack clothes, drank beer, wore too much make-up and were not too concerned about hygiene. It's a shame they couldn't make it across the river to the other side. That river Jordan is a bitch. So what's the cut-off now? Statisticians say middle class is a household income between $25,000 and $100,000 a year. Anything above $100,000 is deemed “upper middle class", but that doesn't factor in location or family size.

But I ain't talking about the middle class, or am I? Well, maybe I am since they just got demoted to poor status with all the entitlements and privileges that comes with such a position in life. Mainly-none. So it is with open arms, I welcome them to Poeass City, the place that they thought they would never end up in, even in their wildest dreams. I'm talking about the place that is populated by one and only one class of people. I'm talking about the often maligned and ignored poor who have been around, existing alongside the very rich from the very beginning. I'm talking about ancient history here. I'm talking about serfs, bondsmen, slaves,indentured servants, the under class, outcasts and sidecasts and those unfortunate enough to be born into such a retched position in life. And so it goes. So in the interest of all you newly poor out there I would like to welcome you to Poeass City, population about 45,000,000 and growing.

As you new residents are finding out, life is sorta different in Poeass City compared to what you're used to. We still have stress here. We have lots of stress. We also have depression, futility, hunger, crime ( oh, boy, do we have crime),ineffectiveness, uselessness and just plain give upiness. And lest not forget bad hygiene. Poeass City does not have that clean mountain smell.

Surprisingly enough, we do have a pecking order, which is one of the many

secrets you might discover while living here. For instance, we are a divided city. Poor ass whites usually hang with other poor ass whites and cling to the beliefs of their richer brethren, not realizing that everybody- well almost everybody, has to shit in the same park. But they are slowly coming around. Our poor ass Hispanic population tends to stay to themselves and cling to their native tongue and which- I find hilarious- demand that other residents learn. Now our other and oldest residents are poor ass black people. They've been around for quite some time, in fact, they lay claim for naming the city. Not unlike poor ass whites and poor ass Hispanics, they have a lot of babies by broke dick dog ass boyfriends. Although, I must admit, a lot of our female residents are beginning to see the light, because raising children by oneself is not the phantasmagorically fabulous life style that they see on the TeeVee. But, then again, learning is a slow process.

I know a lot of you are here through no fault of your own. A lot of you were born here and a lot of you might be short term residents. Whatever your state of mind and situation, your main goal should be to demolish Poeass City. I know survival is a full time job and depression and stress are always stalking you, spurred on by the MSM and those a little more fortunate than you. Some of you used to be one of "them". Some of you used to berate "them", belittle "them", browbeat "them" and bemoan the fact that "they" were taking "your" money when the fact was, it wasn't "your" money to take in the first place. You should have known better, because now you have to send your kids to the same poor ass schools with their out-of-date books and their gangs and their overworked and underpaid teachers, who, by-the-way, deserve to get paid much more than they're getting.

NOTE: I cannot understand the mind set that lets you turn your most cherished possession over to strangers for 5 to 6 hours a day to teach them and shape them, then turn around and demand that they work for a lower pay grade. THAT'S JUST INSANE. You have no idea what your little darlings are like once they're out of your sight. You need to get a clue.

There is no difference between you and your poor ass neighbors. You are buying into the mantra of: "I only owe allegiance to myself" ,which I have noticed, doesn't include your own children.

Unfortunately Poeass City will continue to grow. People will continue to stream in with all of their shit that they could salvage. They'll bring all of their problems and their attitudes. They'll still think they are better than the other poor assed residents. They'll walk their starving, scraggly, poor assed dog in the unkempt park and pretend they don't see all the other poor assed people shuffling by. They'll continue to flinch and clutch their purses, even though it's worn and empty. And as it is won't to happen, poor assed people will continue to rob other poor ass people.

As I see it, black men, followed by Hispanic men-who seem to love the gang life and white men, who are studying ways to get chipped so that they can enjoy sports 24 seven, have fallen by the proverbial wayside, and for the life of me, I don't know why. So once again, it falls to the women to lead the way. Oh me, oh my, did I just write that? Like I said before, the truth is a skanky bitch. Stop with the babies. Get some knowledge and some skills. Give yourselves some choices in life and when the time comes, that punani will still be as tight as a rusty bolt on a '57 Chevy and with the proper lubrication work just as good.

My apologies to all you women out there. I was speaking metaphorically. But you do and are going to have a heavy load to bear and if history is any indication of where we're headed, then our survival depends on you.

Welcome to Poeass City. May your stay be a short one.

The Head Bone is Connected to the Neck Bone

What is Black culture? The Fool wants to know. I hear a lot about the "black Community". Okay. I'll give you that one. Somewhere in this country there are black people who have their own businesses close to a neighborhood populated mostly by other black people. Harlem immediately comes to mind. I'm sure there are more.

One of the definitions of culture found in Wikipedia is: (and I can hear you kneegroes-with a small k now. Don't this fool ever stop asking these damn questions?)

In the twentieth century, "culture" emerged as a concept central to anthropology, encompassing all human phenomena that are not purely results of human genetics. Specifically, the term "culture" in American anthropology had two meanings: (1) the evolved human capacity to classify and represent experiences with symbols, and to act imaginatively and creatively; and (2) the distinct ways that people living in different parts of the world classified and represented their experiences, and acted creatively. Following World War II, the term became important, albeit with different meanings, in other disciplines such as cultural studies, organizational psychology and management studies.

My interpretation of this definition, as referring to black people is... culture is the shit that is left over on our racial psyche after being supplanted with the bullshit of the for-bearers of the Big Giant Heads. Meaning, stuff that we can call solely our own, stuff that we do that has somehow survived more or less intact. For instance, Jumping the Broom would fit into this category or Kwanza, which defines how we celebrate and give thanks. Our music which has always been unique. Or the phrase and it's only a phrase that we pay a lot of lip service to: It takes a village to raise a child and incidentally, white people have taken that too. Those are parts of OUR culture. I don't expect I'll be seeing white people jumping the broom any time soon.

Are we known as a physical people? Are we known as a musically inventive people? Are we known as comedians? Are we known as the people you go to to get shit done? Are we craftsmen, warriors, writers, weavers, rich men, poor men, beggar men or thieves?

Does the black man have a moral code of honor? You know- scruples, a conduct of how he lives his life, stuff that he just won't do under any circumstances. I've never ever heard this question discussed before. I mean... all of our moral standards are Judeo Christian in nature. It would seem to me that something would have rubbed off on us black men. What do we pass down to our children? What do we pass on that's solely ours as a race? Are our religious beliefs our own or just another overlay? Oops! Sorry. I got a little too close to the line that time. Just how do we define ourselves in such a manner that would bring us together as a culture? How do we get the neck bone connected to the head bone and the shoulder bone connected to the arm bone? What is it in the black Diaspora that will bring us together as a people? Are we doomed to follow the path of self loathing from generation to generation? Is this the only legacy that we have to pass on to the future?

Surely those of you who are of the black persuasion and have achieved a modicum of success in the white world have no need to consider such things. You have actively sought out and pursued your vision complete with your white partner and soul mate. That was your choice. I don't judge. But please stop the whining and complaining about those of a less tolerant disposition of your life choices, because you burned a lot of bridges and sucked a lot of ass to get to that point. You're only conscious of your fellow black travelers when you're reminded of your blackness by those self same individuals who aren't so in love with your vision of your success.

I guess you figured out a way to connect the arm bone to the shoulder bone and the knee bone to the leg bone and the leg bone to the foot bone (oh dem damn bones!), because you sure got up and ran the hell away pretty fast. What is that they say? Keep your eyes on the prize and don't look back, because as Satchel Page said: "somebody might be gaining on you". You are the black man who puts the handle on the watermelon or carries it home in a bowling ball bag and cuts it up into very small, very neat uniformed slices so that it doesn't drip onto your linen napkin.

Culture to black people is a fine woman covered over in scented oil that slides from our embrace every time we try and reach for her. She's just out of our grasp and the few time we do manage to get her to bed, she's so oiled up that she just slides from between our arms and back onto the carpet, rises and runs merrily away. We never get the chance to tell her how much she is needed.

We all make choices. We make the choice not to make a choice. So how can you make the choice to abandon something that is possible that you didn't have in the first place?

I Ain't Got No Fuckin' Chicken

What is a thought? What makes up the substance of a thought? Where do thoughts come from?

This is some pretty complicated cogitation and it makes my head hurt, because The Fool is not a heavy thinker,so please be patient with me on this journey. This subject in one form or another usually comes up when someone is interviewing a writer or some other wordsmith. The question usually goes: "Where do you get your ideas from?" The one being interviewed usually returns a blank stare and mutters something about research and ideas and such, which is all very well and good...as far as it goes.

It's really not a difficult question to answer. A writer sees something and does a "what if" and a story begins to form (the operative word here is form). The rest is research to flesh out the rest of the story which develops during the process of research. Sounds overly simplistic doesn't it? Well it is. It's much more complicated, but still doesn't address the question: What is a thought?

Being one not to be shy about offering his opinion, I submit, the Fools Definition of a Thought.

One more thing though. I was reading awhile back the answer to this very question from a religious point of view. But before I get going, the scientific community has it's own take on the subject. Here's a simple breakdown: "All these little neurons and chemicals and stuff in our heads get together in the brain to do the Hokey Pokey. They dance around and swirl and blink on and off until they get tired. Then they go over and sit down and have drinks, get drunk and have sex. The results of all of this electronic cohabitation is a thought. Since many neurons are engaged in this orgy of electronic lust at any one time, many thoughts are born". At least that's what I got out of it. The fewer electrons you have in your brain doing the nasty, the fewer the thoughts you'll have romping around in your head.

I tend to lean towards a more "cleaner" version that was supplied by a member of the religious sector. Yeah, I know. Religion is bad. But it doesn't mean that there aren't any caring thinking and loving people involved in religion. That old saying," don't hate the player, hate the game" also applies to religion.

Okay? Here we go. A thought is a metaphysical function that interacts with the physical world. See? Simple and clean. And if you think about it for a minute, a thought has no physical characteristics. You can't see, touch, taste or smell a thought. Yet it exists. Cogito ergo sum: "I think, therefore I am" is a philosophical statement courtesy of Descartes. And if you come at this from a different angle, you get: we think, therefore we are, whatever we think, we are, I think and I am, my thinking makes me, me and I ain't got no fuckin' chicken!

Of course we are the sum total of our experiences, but our thought process is how we express those experiences. We basically are the product of our thinking. We are the "am". Since our thoughts are a metaphysical function, it gives rise to the possibly of a relationship to the divine. There. I said it. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. You haven't run away yet, have you, because these are just my own personal opinions and ruminations, crazy though you think I might be.

Spirituality used to be a big thing with black people. At one time we were pretty close to figuring this stuff out. Too bad we fell down the shit hole of life and never found a way out. It's too bad that we can't wrap our heads around the concept that we think, therefore we are and that that gives us a connection to the divine which binds all life here on old planet earth where, incidently you can get some pretty good chicken, even at two in the AM.

These are just my crazy musings that I use to justify my relationship to something greater than I am. As I said previously, religion in and of itself is not a bad thing. If it floats your boat and allows you to do the Macarena with the Universe, then by all means, sit down with the divine, have a few pieces of extra crispy, a glass of beer (although I've heard wine is the beverage of choice), some smashed potatoes and rolls and knock yourself out.

I tend to refer to khalil Gibran a lot. Here's one on Good and Evil. Back to the Hill I go.

Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil.

Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters.

You are good when you are one with yourself.

Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil.

For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.

And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to the bottom.

You are good when you strive to give of yourself.

Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself.

For when you strive for gain you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her breast.

Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, "Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of your abundance."

For to the fruit giving is a need, as re- ceiving is a need to the root.

You are good when you are fully awake in your speech, Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose.

And even stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue.

You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.

Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping.

Even those who limp go not backward.

But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness.

You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good, You are only loitering and sluggard.

Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.

In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you.

But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carr- ying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest.

And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore.

But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, "Wherefore are you slow and halting?"

For the truly good ask not the naked, "Where is your garment?" nor the house- less, "What has befallen your house?"

The Signifying Monkey

Here's a little somethin' somethin' for you kneegroes. Old skool, hard core black people will remember this. The rest of you- not so much. It's just a break from all the bullshit that might be going down in your lives. I broke it up into paragraphs to make a better read.

"Way, way down in the jungle deep The badass lion stepped on the signifying monkey's feet. The monkey said, "Motherfucka, can't you see? You're standing on my god damn feet!"

The lion said, "I ain't heard a word you said." Said, "If you say three more I'll be steppin on yo muthafuckin head!"

Now, the monkey lived in the jungle in an old oak tree Bullshittin' a line every day of the week. Everyday before the sun go down, That lion would kick his ass all through the jungle town. But the monkey got wise and started using his wit, Start telling "I'm gonna put a stop to this old ass kickin shit." So he ran up on the lion the very next day He said, "Oh, Mr. Lion. There's a big, bad motherfucka coming your way. And he's somebody that you don't know. He just broke aloose from the Ringling Brother's Show." Said, "He talked about your people in a hell of a way. He talked about your people til my hair turned gray. He said your daddy's a freak and your momma's a whore. Said he spotted you running through the jungle sellin asshole from door to door!

Said your sister did the damndest trick. She got down so low and sucked a earthworm's dick. Said he spotted yo niece behind the tree, Screwin a muthafuckin flea! He said he saw yo aunt sittin on the fence Givin a goddamn zebra a french. Then he talked about yo mammy and yo sister Lou, Then he start talkin about how good yo grandmaw screw. Said yo sister's a prostitute and yo brother's a punk, And said I'll be damned if you don't eat all the pussy you see when you get drunk!

He said he cornholed your uncle and fucked your aunty and niece, And next time he see yo grandmaw he gonna get him another good piece. Said your brother died with the whoopin cough and your uncle died with the measles And your old grandpaw died with a rag chunked up in his ass, said he's goin on home to Jesus. And you know yo little sister that ya love so dear I fucked her all day for a bottle of beer.

So, Mr. Lion, you know that ain't right. So wherever you run up on the elephant, I want you to be ready to fight."

The lion jumped up in a hell of a rage Like a young man smoking some gage. He ran up on the elephant talking to the swine. He said, "All right, you big, bad motherfucka, It's gonna be your ass or mine."

The lion jumped up and made a fancy pass, But the elephant side-stepped him and knocked him dead on his ass. He fucked up his jaw, messed up his face, Broke all four legs and knocked his ass out of place. They fought all night and all the next day. Somehow the little lion managed to get away. He drug his ass back to the jungle more dead than alive, Just to run into the monkey and more of his signifying jive. The little monkey said, "Look here, partner, you don't look so swell. Looks to me like you caught a whole lot of hell." Said, "Your eyes is red and your ass is blue. I knew in the first place it wasn't shit to you. But I told my wife before you left 'I should have whipped your ass my motherfucking self.' Shut up! Don't you roar! 'Cause I'll jump out of this tree and whip your dog ass some more. And don't look up here with your stuck 'ol case Because I'll piss through the fork of this tree in your motherfuckin' face!"

The little monkey got happy; started jumping up and down His feet missed the limb, and his ass hit the ground. Like a ball of lightning and a streak of white heat, That lion was on his ass with all four feet. Thus, rolls of tears came in the little monkey's eyes, Nothing he could see and nothing he could hear But he knew that was the end of his bullshittin' and signifying career And SIGNIFYING CAREER!!!!"

For the benefit of you Kneegroes who are unfamiliar with the Signifying Monkey tale and its function in African American folk lore, a little background is in order. The rest of you black people, I know, forgot all about this. This is also part of your history that you're supposed to forget

The Signifying Monkey is a character of African-American folklore that derives from the trickster figure of Yoruba mythology, Esu Elegbara. This character was transported with Africans to the Americas under the names of Exu, Echu-Elegua, Papa Legba, and Papa Le Bas (voo doo). Esu and his variants all serve as messengers who mediated between the gods and men by means of tricks.The Signifying Monkey is “distinctly Afro-American” and is thought to derive from Cuban mythology, which depicts Echu-Elegua with a monkey at his side.

How you Black women doin'? Just a fool's question. Don't get mad now.(grin)

Doing the Holocaust Hussle

This is not the original post I promised. It's not ready for prime time yet. See- You just can't count on you Kneegroes to be on time for anything. In my defense though, I am a fool. Anyway, I like this one better.

Let's take a trip in the Way Back machine. We'll be leaving Slavey Time and heading to Germany, circa 1939 or thereabouts. What do you think we'll find there? About now I imagine you're thinking: What's with this fool? And that phrase just about sums it up. I kinda zig zag back and forth in time because, well... we are our history. And because the Big Giant Heads are constantly telling us to forget the past and stop whining, because it doesn't matter what happened back then, because ,THEY WEREN'T there and it was before their time and as we all know by now, if the Big Giant Heads weren't there, it doesn't matter. They are absolved of the sins of the father. Well, that's the current line of bullshit that's making the rounds now.

I did some cogitative reasoning and it seems to stand that if we are the sum total of our experiences and our history and our experiences are constantly coming under attack on a daily basis and our history is something that can be churned down the cosmic garbage disposal with the flick of a switch, then we are nothing. Did I get that right?

So this time around, while zigging around the space time stream, I happened to zag into Germany. A little before World War 2 to be more specific. And guess what I discovered? Black people were doing the Holocaust Hussle along with those of the Jewish persuasion. Now some of you black people already know this and I am late coming to the party, but now that I'm here, we gonna boogie, boogie, boogie til you just can't boogie no more.

Here's a snippet. Professor start the music.

The fate of black people from 1933 to 1945 in Nazi Germany and in German-occupied territories ranged from isolation to persecution, sterilization, medical experimentation, incarceration, brutality, and murder. However, there was no systematic program for their elimination as there was for Jews and other groups. (sounds pretty much like Amerikka in the mid 20th century to me)

After World War I, the Allies stripped Germany of its African colonies. (Yeah, you read that right. Germany had colonies in Africa back then.) The German military stationed in Africa (Schutztruppen), as well as missionaries, colonial bureaucrats, and settlers, returned to Germany and took with them their racist attitudes. Separation of whites and blacks was mandated by the Reichstag (German parliament), which enacted a law against mixed marriages in the African colonies.(bears a striking resemblance to the south, don't you think?)

European and American blacks were also interned in the Nazi concentration camp system. Lionel Romney, a sailor in the U.S. Merchant Marine, was imprisoned in the Mauthausen concentration camp. Jean Marcel Nicolas, a Haitian national, was incarcerated in the Buchenwald and Dora-Mittelbau concentration camps in Germany. Jean Voste, an African Belgian, was incarcerated in the Dachau concentration camp. Bayume Mohamed Hussein from Tanganyika (today Tanzania) died in the Sachsenhausen camp, near Berlin.

Forgive me for jumping around. You can read the article in it's entirety HERE. You can also read about the lovely lady who's picture is at the top of this posting HERE. Her name is Valaida Snow. She was a jazz musician who prospered in the male dominated world of jazz during the 1930's. She was also held in a German internment camp.

The song that we sing as black people is sometimes melodic, sometimes rousing, sometimes somber and just plain in-your-face, whale shit crazy full of deep bass and high crescendos that make you want to shit or go blind. It's the sweet soothing, crooning sounds of the black woman that holds us, comforts us and strokes our egos and calls us "baby" that binds the cloth of our souls to each other. That in the darkness of the night, when everything's right, make us realize that we matter and that as long as we have each other, we are not alone.

Here's a shout out to all you Black men out there who are trying to do the right thing by your woman, courtesy of Solomon Burk.

"If I fall short. If I don't make the grade.

If your expectations aren't met in me today.

There's always tomorrow night. Hang in there baby, I know I'll get it right.

Please don't give up on me. I know it's late in the game. But my true feelings haven't changed.

Herein my heart."

I just had to put that last paragraph in there. Solomon Burk wouldn't leave me alone. When you're a fool, strange shit like that just tends to happen.

At Play in the Fields of the Lord

When I started this blog awhile back, I wanted to do something different. There are a lot of blogs in the blogosphere that concentrate on politics and they do it quite well but, I didn't feel the need to add another one. Besides, these political blogs are brutal places to hang out. Field negro comes to mind when writing this. This man must be one of the most level headed and calmest individual on the Internet. Nothing fazes him.

Anyway, like I said, I wanted to do something different, but the mind is a funny thing. If you've read some of the stuff I write about, it would seem that I'm stuck in "slavey time". It didn't start out that way, but in my opinion, I think that a majority of our problems can be traced back to that period in time and all the way up through the fifties and into the early sixties, which is just forty some years ago. We didn't get our groove on until the middle and late sixties. But something went horribly wrong. Some one put a couple of sticks of dynamite under that bridge we were crossing and blew it the hell up. A lot of our leaders at the time fell by the wayside or were just outright killed.

Because the MSM told us so, we believed that we had arrived. Kinda like today with a black man in the White House. The MSM felt the need to invent the phrase, "Post Racial America" to lull us into thinking, once again, that all was well and would be well, because the people of America had spoken and it was official: racism was dead. All the clouds would fade away and the sky would open up and the Lord himself would come down and bless each and every one of us and "those children got so happy- they just went struttin' right through the fire. Just a laughin' and a talkin' bout the power of the gospel." That was a lie... and thankfully a short lived one, because no matter what you might think of the kids today, they ain't stupid. They are more connected and informed and aware than we ever were and it doesn't take them long to see through the shit that's being shoveled at them.

But I digress. See what I mean? I get side tracked easily. (Sometimes I go away, but then I come back.) I thought very hard for a handle that I could use. Mad Dog2020 came to mind almost immediately. Luckily it was taken or unluckily. It depends on your point of view. But there were a lot of questions on my mind, mostly of a spiritual nature, but just observing the day to day activities of black people and where their priorities lie, sometimes drive my mind in a totally different direction from where I started out. Herman Cain is another name that's popping into my head now. But I refuse to do political commentary.

I will have another post tomorrow. Strangely enough it's a short story about, yep, you guessed it. Slavey Times. Carry me cross that river Jordan. But I also, in my limited way tried to explain the enmity between black men and black women. I thought a story format was the way to go. It's an important subject that black people can't quite seem to wrap their heads around.

I would like to apologize ahead of time if it upsets anyone who reads it, but we need to talk about this stuff to each other. We need to get it out in the open and air it out. This is just my awkward way of doing it. I wanted to know. I still want to know.

Back in the medieval days, the fool was the only person in the court who could say dumb shit to the king and keep his head. Oftimes, when the people took the time to think about what he said, it wasn't all just dumb shit.

I hope I can have the same outcome and keep my head in the bargain.