CARRY ME HOME

A True Love Story: THE GOOD,THE BAD and THE HORRIBLY UGLY!

2012-01-15T08:00:00.000-06:00

35 years ago, they were in love. Thirty years later, he was locked in jail, while she was locked in a self imposed prison. Her life filled one small room.

Thirty five years ago, he was presented with a new child. Thirty five years ago, she too was introduced to a child, it wasn't hers, it was her husband's. It was a bi-racial child, she and her husband are both black.

This is a short love story. A love story filled with so much pain that it's impossible to have an happy ending, but it does. Yet, how could a woman endure the pain of being presented with four children, by her husband, that he fathered outside their home?

Ten years ago, she stayed locked in her room while her husband stayed locked in the basement, locked in love with his crack pipe. Day after day, she prayed and listened to gospel music. Gospel music is her first love, it has sustained her through trying times. On any given day, she can be heard singing songs by the Five Blind Boys, The Gospel Southerners or Kirk Franklin. On Sundays, while at church, she seldom needs the assistance of the hymn book, she knows most of the songs by heart. Last week she was heard singing "Hold To Gods Unchanging Hand". She owns a collection of over 500 recordings.

Several years ago, I went before a Judge to ask for my freedom. Five years ago, she too went before a judge to ask for her freedom. She wanted a divorce. She was stuck to her her vows - to death do them part. Her husband was stuck in a mindset that the world, and his wife, were his oyster. He believed that he could do whatever he pleased, because his wife had always stood by his side. But she was dying - and he was slowly killing her.

One day she was lying in the hospital - near death. A tracheotomy was performed to save her life. Her husband came by. He took her wedding ring from her finger and took it to the pawn shop. She lived, yet laid bed ridden for nearly a year. During that time, they lost their home. She was forced to move in with her mother. She wasn't raised by her mother. Her mother gave birth when she was only 16. She was raised by her grandmother who now needed care and was living in her home. The wife, her two children and her grandmother moved into her mother's cramped home. Times were very difficult.

Years ago, I stood in front of a church and gave testimony of my sins. Prior to that, while sitting in my jail cell, lonely and confused, I got up and gave my mother a call. I told her I needed some help. My bond was $50,000. She said she had given it to God. I didn't like that answer but it made him think. When I thought about it, those individuals in the church that I thought were squares or boring, were not in jail with me. Those individuals that I unconsciously wanted to emulate were not crying in the dark. I was locked up with a gaggle of fools - I was one of them. Consequently, I was one of the biggest fool on the block.

But see, I didn't know the women in this story, nor her drug using husband, but later...

I prayed. One day I was released from jail. She prayed, she was released from her husband. The day I stood in front of the church, she was there. She said she heard something in my voice. It was a Thursday. Friday would be the last day of the churches fall revival. We met in an area outside the sanctuary and exchanged pleasantries. I told her I was planning on returning the next day. She told me that she might see me again. Outside the church, she spotted me across the street, smoking a cigarette and wearing a baseball cap that barely covered a doo-rag. She thought to herself, "that man has not changed, he's nothing but an educated thug", but she remembered my voice.

I had to accept the fact that I was no longer married. I had lost my love, my rock, and the love of myself. Yet, deep inside, I hadn't lost the ability to love. That Friday, we met again. I asked her if she was seeing someone. She said no, then I asked if I could call. She gave me a strange look, yet grudgingly took my number. Outside the church, she tossed the number into a garbage can.

She had been severely hurt by love. She'd also lost confidence in herself. Her struggles left her insecure. A conversation inside the church is one thing, but she wondered what this man, "I" wanted now.

Before that meeting, there were good times, yet, when God called my wife home, my life spiraled out of control. I wondered if I would ever find love again. Not just for someone else but for myself. I was convinced that if I believed in the concept of God, then I could live again. First, I had to own up to my mistakes, and not just talk about them, but walk the talk. I had to clean my side of the street.

A few weeks after meeting the women in the vestibule of the church, I went back to the church and asked the secretary for the number of my new found friend. I lied, I told the secretary I was looking for a hairdresser for an acquaintance of mine. The secretary had never seen me before my first visit. She gave me the number.

Thinking back to the meeting at the church, I saw a humbleness in her that pierced my soul. Even though her sadden eyes told a story of misery and pain in which he was very familiar, I saw something inside her that spoke of a good woman.

She lost her husband to drugs and divorce. I lost my wife to cancer. She died several years ago. I am doing okay now. We've been dating for a couple of years. This Christmas, we have plans to fly to Atlanta to spend the holiday with my daughter and grandson. My new friend has never been on a plane. She's scared to death.

They say God gives us memories to lead us to our victories. We are not looking back. Both of us remember the good times and the bad times.

What about a time called now!?

Her words on Love:

Love can be a smile, a phone call, a letter or sharing a hug. Love is showing a deep endearing concern for others. But in order to do that, I feel that you must know how to love yourself as well as others. Here are some of the things I feel love is.....

1. Love is a gift

2. Love has no fear.... saying how you feel.

3. Love is complete

4. You don't just visit love. It's not a bus stop.

5. Love has to be deeply rooted, it's a learned behavior.

6. Love heals

7. Love sustains you in the times of trails and tribulations

8. Love nourishes the soul

9. Love does not stagnate, it's always making progress.

10. Love is saying I do when you don't

11. Love is sacrifice

12. Love is loving those when they don't love you back.

13. Love is building.... making a foundation to continue.

14. Love is agape.... never ending

15. Most of all, love is wholeness, love requires a valued contribution

~Cookie

If You Were My Girl Friend - Again?

2012-01-14T12:29:00.000-06:00

Jack & Jill ran up the hill to get a marriage license/ They found bliss and shared a kiss/ and that's the end of the story.

Wouldn't that be great? Through the storms of adultery, physical and mental abuse, uncommon interests, gambling, selfishness, alcoholism, deceit, sloth and boredom, wouldn't it be great if we all could be like Petunia (Ethel Waters) & Little Joe. Yes sir, Little Joe was a gambling womanizer but Petunia still loved her Little Joe. The devil tried to take Little Joe, but eventually they were hand in hand, walking to the Cabin In The Sky. That was a great story. But what about now?

Now I am at a place of wonderment. I found myself here after reading a post by Tha L. http://rippdemup.blogspot.com/2009/11/guest-blogger-put-haterade-downiced-tea.html

Her post was eerily similar to mine. http://rippdemup.blogspot.com/2009/10/guest-blogger-why-are-you-speaking-so.html

Those posts were basically saying the same thing... "Clean up your side of the street". Personally, I wonder what that means to me and to others. Well, I know what it means to me because I wrote the post. Let me say this, I have several flaws - okay. When I think about those flaws, I wonder why my love life has not been that bad.

Now, don't take this as a vane attempt to stroke myself or to stratify myself above the common man, but I've never lost at love. Nope, I've never had a woman leave me and I am still cool with every woman that I've had a serious relationship with. "Then why was there separation, CareyCarey?" . Well, before I went to jail for a serious crime, I was involved with a woman. She was cool, but I was not. I mean, I was in the grips of an addiction when I met her. While I was riding that storm, she was the one for me. She didn't even know I had an addiction, but I did. While I was incarcerated, she supported me. When I got out, she supported me. She bought my clothe and gave me transportation. Yet, when I removed myself from that storm, she wasn't the one for me. Without being specific, she wasn't the one for me when I decided to start over. To this day we are cool, but I doubt we could ever be lovers again.

Earlier in my life, while I was in a committed relationship, I had an affair with another woman. In that relationship a child was born. This woman and I were tight, it's safe to say we were in love. However, again, without being totally specific, I had to leave that relationship because I had a family and a woman waiting for me back home. I am still cool with that past lover. I hurt her, yet we remain friends.

I was married. I am now a widower. My present relationship is strong.

Having said all of that and admitting I have numerous character flaws, I sometimes wonder why the women have stayed around and/or continue to allow me to be their friend. But here is were I am at today.

I have a few boundaries. I mean, there are a few things I do not compromise in my search for a woman that I want to call mine. Again, this is not about me but I am going somewhere. I have a pet peeve that many would call ridiculous. It may not be a deal breakers but it would be a serious impediment to a lasting relation - for me. See, I brush my teeth about 10 times a day. I not only brush my teeth but I wash my mouth. Simply brushing ones teeth can be akin to washing ones feet and not getting between the toes or not putting them in water for any significant period of time.

Anyway, for me, a woman has to have very clean teeth and their breathe has to remain pleasant. Okay, I know some may think that shouldn't be a reason to fight love. But, for "me" it is.

If I can go back to the posts of Tha L, and mine, err'body was talking/complaining about the other person. Well, what about the other person - you?

What if you could go back and be that girlfriend, boyfriend, husband or wife again, what are some of the things you would change about yourself? I mean, it's not always the other person's fault that a relationship did not last. Are there a few idiosyncrasies or outlandish requirements that you have, that might have put a wedge in your love life. More so, are there a few serious character flaws of your own that you've now discovered that you must give serious attention? Isn't it important that we check ourselves before we....

No, it wasn't the suit, it was me. No, it wasn't the woman, it was me, I was fu*ked up. Was it you? What was it about you that you've now come to believe must change. If you can't say it, you can't do it. If you can't find it, you can't fix it.

If you could go back, what would you change about yourself?!

A.Smith said...
Oh gosh Carey. I would change SO much. I remember when things went down the toilet with me and my ex and he was trying to salvage anything he could, he asked me if I would remember anything good about our relationship and I told him no. I regret doing that everyday -- but for reasons I'll share at another time -- though anyone who reads my blog can probably guess why.Anywho, I said "no" more because I felt like it was all his fault than anything else. Since that time I've become aware of how narrow-sighted and selfish that was. I was not perfect, I was horribly imperfect and I get that -- very important lesson I had to learn, for sure.

CareyCarey said...
Hi A. Smith,

You don't know how much I appreciate your comments. I see you are going into social work (I think). To some degree, that is what I do. Well, I deal with people going through a major storm.

Through this journey, I've learned valuable information about myself. In order for me to feel comfortable about telling others how to change, I have to walk the talk. You, my lady, have a gift that many will never achieve. You have the courage to admit to your faults AND voice them. What leaves the heart will find another. I believe you are heading in the right direction.Yes, it's frequently not about the other person. Selfishness is a mean thang. Thanks for stopping by.

Solomon said...
Nobody is perfect. There are always things we would do differently if we could do it all over again. In my last relationship there are quite a few things I would change if I could do it all over again. For one thing I would call more in the beginning of the relationship instead of treating it like a booty call early on. Then I would be more open about what I wanted in the relationship. I don't think I was very good at talking about my needs, especially at first. Then there is my character flaw of me not being able to tell somebody how I feel about them. Well, I think I was so damaged I really didn't know how I felt but at least I could have tried right! I also know that in my past relationships I wasn't always emotionally available. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get to that point of emotional attachment, at least for a while anyway. Then there are the "warning signs" that I was always good at ignoring. If I was serious about the relationship I should have went with my gut and not ignored the signs. As with anyone I can be selfish when it comes to things I expect in a relationship. Nobody is perfect and I'd say I'm far from it. Sometimes I didn't listen to her needs when making decisions and I realize now that I was being selfish. I think I would be in a much better place to be in a relationship now after working on these issues. My last relationship was hard because I felt so damaged from all the drama of my previous relationships. You can only move forward right! Hopefully from here on out things will work out better and I won't be so damn selfish!

uglyblackjohn said...
Whaaaaat? Man, I can only give my nephews and young cousins advice on what NOT to do when it comes to women.I get some really great women but I always seem to eff it up.

FreeMan said...
Why do I feel I'm at a Catholic confessional? I lived in Philly and I met the one! I salsa danced with her on Thursday and she was down to earth and understood money so we ate out occasionally and spent most times chilling at my house. Then I got accepted to Law School and I was so short sighted and she understood how big of a break it was for me that we parted ways. I look back all the time thinking I should've fought harder but I accepted my fate. I was so used to leaving everything behind in order to get on top that I thought shit this is one more of those times. I don't have many regrets but she's ONE! Life picked up so fast after that I never caught up with her and haven't found her again after some searching! I've been fighting so long to right the ship of my life and circumstances that I sacrificed a good part of my life in the process.

CareyCarey said...
Freeman my son, god be with you:-). Man, but don't you feel better now? But really, I believe there's something special in admitting we may have been wrong. Selfishness is one of the core issues of breakups.

@ Uncle Black, man now come on. You can do better than that. Even MadMoney Freeman dropped a tear. You could have at least told us a piece of your ish. There may be a young man reading this and they could learn from your evil ways *lol*

@ solomon, tell me Solomon, how's your present love life? It seems like you have a few answers.

BigmacInPittsburgh said...
Well if you aren't honest about why a rlationship didn't work then you are dume to repeat the mistake. I really have not dug deep enough I believe I keep getting hooked up with the wrong woman. My big problem is the cookie box,I get hooked and ignor the warning signs.

CareyCarey said...
@ Big Mac with extra cheese. See, I'm noticing a pattern and you said it. Ms. A.Smith showed us her's and I'd hope the guys would follow suit. But oh no, the men came up in here talking about money and booty. *lol*I mean, didn't yawl notice how Ms Smith said she was horribly imperfect. She went deep. But lord have mercy, the brothas couldn't dig past their Johnson and their billfolds. Dang, you guys have reduced us to tricks and sugardaddy's. You guys have no excuses either. @ your blogs, you guys go deep. But on this subject, you guys didn't dig deep, you took a short cut - to the tail end. I am so disappointed in my brothas :-)

Mizrepresent said...
I would have kicked him to the curb the first time he cheated instead of giving him another 10 years of my time. What would i change about myself...i would have been more up front about my needs and desires, and i wouldn't have taken a backseat to my dreams so that he could live his. I could have loved him more, if i hadn't stopped liking him.

BigmacInPittsburgh said...
GUILTY,GIVE ME TWENTY JUDGE CAREY!Its a good thing when we can check each other.

CareyCarey said...
LOL @ Big Mac. Yes, it's a good thang that men can say what needs to be said and not get offended.Since you threw yourself on the mercy of the court, I'm only going to sentence you to church :-). But you're on probation. Speaking of probation, I have a woman that's coming into my court.

Hello Miz, the jury is out on you. See, you soft soaped yours. Just like some of the men, you only pulled the change out of your pocket. I mean, did you ever get in a realationship for all the wrong reasons? More so, can any of the fault of a breakup rest at your feet. Now I don't want to hear about your lack of voicing your needs. I want to hear about your screw-ups. Maybe you don't have any faults but.. Like you told me, I know you (somewhat) so tell us whats really on your mind. Hey, you kicked him out after 10 years but did love have anything to do with it?

FreeMan said...
@Carey - Yeah I'm alright I'm just putting it out there for this post!"Freeman my son, god be with you" LMBAO - man I didn't drop a tear I'm just saying for all that I have won in life I still lost on my way.MADAMAN FreeMan whuh? LOL

uglyblackjohn said...
@ Carey - Okay, which one?- The one I sent to England for a semester at college so I could have more time to cheat on her only to have her meet the guy she would marry.- The one who was my dream girl, but I had to get that last piece (from a girl I'd wanted to hit for a month) before settling for "The One" only to get caught because I gave her (the dream girl) the clap?- The one that was perfect in every way except she was only 5'6' (below my minimum 5'7" height minimum)? I was an ass to women - even the ones I truly loved. I had always assumed that it was always about me - but when the women would agree with that, I would get bored with them and try to find another conquest.So you see... three quick examples of "What NOT to do".

CareyCarey said...
Okay Uncle Black, when got to the part about the claps, I was done *lol*

Yes sir, it seems like you could write a book about F'in up. You've been a bad boy.*** okay boys and girls, don't do as Uncle Black does, do as he says... I think ***

Tha L said...
I like this Carey. Good lookin' out on reiterating the message so eloquently LOL! Now, what would I change about myself if I could go back? Hmm...although I don't believe in going back, I know it's so important to learn from the past. For the short time that I was married almost ten years ago, I was extremely bossy, selfish, and a huge clean freak. If I were to ever get married again, I would definitely have to continue working on those things. But honestly, I enjoy living alone too much, so that marriage thing may not be for me :-)

CareyCarey said...
*lol* @ Tha L, yeah reference your "eloquence" I had to come with a different flavor in this post. I tried not to talk all nasty and stupid :-)

I agree, sometimes going back is not the thang to do. But again, as you said, we should never forget the past. You know what, I've always lived with a clean freak and I love it. My mother was a domestic (cleaned white folks houses). My wife had a cleaning business. If I was reading the newspaper and walked away from it, she would fold it up and put it away. My present lady is the same way. If I sit still to long, she'd start polishing my forehead. So maybe it's a match made in heaven. I make the mess and then they are free to do their thang. Someone needs you Tha L *lol*

Anonymous said...
Carey, the thing I would most change is to be like you: more ready to recognise that I do have so many flaws.

CareyCarey said...
Thank you anonymous (I believe I know who you are). I think you also replied to the "reunion" post. I had to change or I would forever repeat my past. More so, I had to realize it wasn't about me. I have children that depend on me. Not financially, but as a way to overcome failures. It's been a process. I have not arrived but I truely believe I am working on chnaging, which require me to go deep.

I am Blogging From The Cheap Seats ...can you hear me?

2012-01-10T12:01:00.000-06:00

Can you hear me? I am up here in the cheap seats. I am a little guy in a BIG blog world.

Some bloggers are like the guys in the top rows of a large sports arena. I am one of them. We yell at the top of our voices only to be heard by a few. We don't have front row seats and the big boys seldom pass popcorn UP to us. We sit in cramped cushion-less seats while others set with their feet extending onto the playing floor. Sometimes we irritate others sitting next to use as we scream ....trying to be heard.

We wait in long lines with the rest of the poor slobs just like us. The eating huts and places to take care of our business are not as plentiful as those of the big boys. Our banners are not very flashy and our templates are borrowed from someone else. Yet we are there to root for our favorite team. We can scream and cheer, just like the men and women in the VIP seats. We can let our voices be heard, if only a few will hear.

I am reminded of a time I was at a sporting event sitting next to a little old lady. I jumped up and yelled toward the events on the floor. I felt kind of bad because I think I sprinkled a little juice on her. Okay, I spit on her. I didn't do it on purpose but I had something I wanted to say and I had to let it go. Later on in the evening the old lady was screaming louder than me. She had something SHE wanted to say. I even heard her say a few lines of mine, while spitting in her popcorn.

But you know what, I've often gone out for a night of dancing. However, when I arrived at one dancing spot no one was dancing. I am not the best dancer but I wanted to get my groove on. Hesitantly I grab my partner and said lets get on the floor. After a few odd moments the floor started jumping. The floor became crowded with laughter and bumping bodies. It wasn't a big spot but everybody was having fun. As I mentioned, I am not the best dancer, so while I am dancing I look at the other people on the floor and steal a few of their moves.

My journey into blogging has been much like that of my aforementioned adventures. At times I feel as if I am standing in the cheap seats talking to myself. I've heard it said that others do not want to hear our opinions unless they're ask for. I believe that to be true but sometimes "I" need to hear what I have to say. It reminds me of things that are important to me.

A serendipitous reward of blogging is that others might hear us and gain insight and knowledge from our words. We never know who is listening or why they are listening but it's safe to say that someone ....someone can hear us.

I've often said that I 'm yet to find a reason or purpose for blogging. Today I received a reward based on something I must have said in my blog. It's not the Oscar but it meant a great deal to me. I will explain the award in my next post. Maybe there's a purpose in this blogging thang that only others can define for us.

Anyway, I need all of you, so I hope that you keep coming back and visiting. I am a pawn on a large playing field. I am a small fish in a vast sea. I like to fish, and sometimes I go fishing and do not catch a thing. Sometimes I go and catch the big one.

I've been on the Internet for several years, I've met some nice people. I've been blogging for less than 2 months. I hope to met more individuals like myself that love to share their thoughts and dreams.

My hat is off to the little people up in the cheap seats.

CAN YOU HEAR ME UP THERE?!?

FOR OVER 80,000 DAYS, THERE WAS A WHITE GENTLEMEN SITTING IN THE WHITE HOUSE.

2011-12-28T02:00:00.000-06:00

President Obama has a huge weight on his shoulders and so did my grandfather. At the beginning of their new voyage, each of them were up against the mighty Goliath. A formidable foe for sure. Sticks and stones could break their bones, but that was the least of their worries.

In 1865, my grandfather (above picture) of six generations past, was released from slavery. Since that time, there has been 28 white gentlemen seated as President of The United States. Over Fifty Three Thousand days ago, since my grandfather was released from slavery, except for approximately 700 measly days, there has been a white gentlemen sitting in the White House. For approximately EIGHTY THOUSAND DAYS, there has always been a white gentlemen sitting in the White House.

Lets move ahead a few years.

That little girl is my mother. Her parents didn't have an easy row to hoe. They had 10 children and were sharecroppers, but that didn't stop them from taking the time to dress my mother in her fine Sunday attire. The landowner wasn't very nice. Some of the other sharecroppers bowed to his wishes and helped him brow beat his tenants. However my grandparents knew they had to keep on, keeping on.

Come on, lets move ahead.

My mother made it through those days on the farm. That's her in the middle, with the glove on her thigh. Her life has not been a cake walk. Well, aside from being a black woman in America, the next picture will tell a more complete story.

She had me and my brothers. I am the confused looking guy on the left. Although I didn't have a nice bow tie like my oldest brother or a fancy pair of shoes like my brother in the middle, I am grateful for my mother and all my grandparents. My brothers and I fought amongst ourselves but we always fought harder for each other. If someone threw a rock at one of us, we threw 10 back at them. My grandmother is in the next picture.

Look at her, she's so proud. She made it through the hard times, and she's standing in the middle of a few good black men as they break ground for our new church. But the church wasn't about her, she was building something to pass down. She passed away a few years after this picture was taken. But if she had listened to some of the other naysay sell-out sharecroppers, the following event might not have taken place. She and my grandfather stayed strong, stayed together, pooled their resources and got off that man's property.

It's our family reunion! Grandma ironed a few white people's clothes and so did her mother, and so did my mother, but they didn't let that stop them.

My father lost his dad at an early age, but he didn't let that stop him either. In the next picture, see if you know where he's standing?

That's my father standing in front of the White House. Since 1789, there had been a white man living in that white house. Our president is now a black man. He's only been living there for a little more than 700 days. Forty three white fellas had called that place home. In their tenure, they managed to keep racism alive, and hope but a distant memory. For 80,000 days and several wars later, they've managed to build a castle in the sky for them and theirs, and yet, a few of my black friends are quick to point fingers at President Obama. They say he's not moving fast enough and he's staying mum on black issues. I wonder if my nay say friends can trace their family history, or the white president's history? I also wonder if they've read a few history books - about our history? More importantly, I've often wondered what rewards they are receiving from regurgitating negative opinions about our president? Could it be they adore speaking in a quasi intellectual tone, while missing the fact that they are being ineffectual? Frequently, their misguided "constructive criticism" is nothing more than 10 dollar words of bubbling babble that's used to stroke an inflated ego.

My father has gone home. I miss him, but I remember his words of wisdom.

He was my little league coach and I was a pitcher. One day, a player on my team dropped a fly ball which caused me to lose my cool. As he scrambled to retrieve the ball, another player stumbled over him. The opposing team laughed and ridiculed the players to a point they both started crying. I didn't make things any better with my mean look and foolish antics on the mound. Consumed by my emotions, I threw my next pitch with the fury of a Tasmanian Devil. I hit the batter square upside his head. My father called time out and approached the mound. His following words I will never forget... "look boy, don't ever play another man's game and don't be nobodies fool. Their job is to get you mad at your players and have you act a damn fool. Don't let them see you get rattled. Go out and tell Tommy it's alright and we are going to win this game. We don't need enemies on our own team"

President Obama has a huge task in front of him. He's standing on the mound and the ball is in his hand. We don't need enemies on our own team. If someone tries to engage you in negative criticism about President Obama, stop, look and listen, and then ask them where they are going? Don't play another man's game and don't be nobodies fool.

Remember, Rome was not built in a day and 43 white fellas have played in the white house for over TWO CENTURIES - THAT'S 200 YEARS YAWL! And that's a loooog time. Taking that into consideration, President Obama has been there but a blink of the eye. My grandfather didn't go back to slavery. He took the good with the bad, and kept on steppin. Step up... when someone tries to bring Obama down.

Lets build something to pass on! I say, move the petty indifferences out of the way and look ahead to a better day. If not Obama then who? Don't be led astry.
ONE MO TIME..... WE DON'T NEED ENEMIES ON OUR OWN TEAM.

THE NEXT PRESIDENT!

2011-12-27T09:46:00.000-06:00

Grandfather & Grandson

There are many things I should be doing today, but I am consumed by the current events. There was an article on Yahoo asking the question "Why Did Obama Win"? I'll get back to that.

I am sure we all have stories of struggle. It's been said that if a man controls your mind, he controls you. I am not the type that blames others for my faults. However, if a person's dreams and hopes are deferred by limited exposure -- who's to blame? Maybe no one, because in doing so, we look back and not forward. When I think about the dreams of my grandfather, seven generation past, I know he looked forward to a day in which he would no longer be a slave, that day came. In 1861 he was released from slavery and joined the 108th Colored Infantry, made up of former slaves from Kentucky. While a slave he was responsible for the care of the farm animals. He was in essence an animal doctor. Skills in hand, he headed North. He was stationed at Fort Armstrong, later renamed Arsenal Island, a picturesque 3-mile strip of land in the Mississippi River. After his stint in the Civil War, he settled into a white community on the banks of Mississippi River in northern Illinois.

Generations later, my Great-Grandmother's dream was to simply go to school. She never had that opportunity. She raised 10 children while working beside my grandfather as sharecroppers. One of my mother's dreams was to go to high school and graduate, she did that.

I was talking to my daughter this morning and we conversed about my grandson. Her voice made me stop and think of a dream my wife shared with me. See, my daughter was not planned. My wife became pregnant while we were in high school. There was talk of abortion and adoption. We married and struggled as young parents, yet, we shared dreams and passed them along to our children.

My daughter went back to Kentucky, not as a slave, nor to find her roots but as a student at the University Of Kentucky. My wife passed away 6 months before the birth of our grandchild. While talking to my daughter she told me that my grandson, who is 6 yrs old, said that he and Obama were just alike. My daughter said, yes, you are both black. He declared, NO MOMMY! We are both presidents. His school held class elections to familiarize students with the voting process; he was voted president of his 1st grade class. Ignoring the comparison that most adults would make, my grandson focused on something greater than race. He was proud of the fact that he won the presidency. He knew the job of president was important, yet too young to understand the significance of skin color in the past election. It wasn't important to him that they shared a color. He was proud of the fact that he was good enough to be president. Maybe one day a person's skin color will cease being a big deal. My grandfather didn't look back, he didn't have a desire to go back there. I have a grandson - his name is Carey -- he's the President.

Why did Obama win? Because he was the best man for the job!

MY MIND IS ON SPIKE LEE

2011-12-26T22:30:00.000-06:00

Spike has a fantastic new book. Take a look at a few pages. That's the cover.

Now, the rest of the story.

I’ve come to believe that a journey shared with another, is more deeply moving an experience than a journey taken alone. Consequently, although I, like everyone who has been caught in the pounce of life’s struggles; that which makes us question our existence, I have managed to maintain my love of watching movies as a form of escape.

Not only do I escape, movie watching affords me the opportunity to visit emotions, sights and sounds - much like reading books - that I may not have otherwise experienced.

See, I am just a black hick from the flat lands of Iowa (yes, there are black folks in Iowa) that loves to stretch-out and view the world from different perspectives. And, as I said, I love watching movies.

That’s me - in the above picture - standing in Harlem waiting for the Apollo Theater to open. I don’t remember who I saw that day; possibly the famed amateur night, but on that same trip, I do remember catching Debbie Allen in a Broadway play.

My wife and I are in the next picture. We’re at the Telluride Film Festival in Colorado. Wonderful times, wonderful days, a wonderful experience.

See if you recognize anyone in the following picture?

Okay, that’s sort of a gimme. That’s me on the left and Harvey Keitel on the far right. But I bet you don’t know the guy in the middle? Well have you heard of the actor Gérard Depardieu , a French actor and film-maker. He has won a number of honours including a nomination for an Academy Award for the title role in Cyrano de Bergerac and the Golden Globe award for Best Actor in Green Card. In addition to a number of American awards, Depardieu is a Chevalier of the Légion d'honneur Chevalier of the Ordre national du Mérite and has twice won the César Award for Best Actor. Well, the above actor is his son. He was an experience and a story all in itself. He later went on to gain popularity - in not a very respectable way. Well, Guillaume Depardieu never fully recovered from a life of drug addiction, a road crash and a hospital infection which forced the amputation of his right leg. He also had been a male prostitute and gigolo as part of a teenage revolt against his father's famous name. He also served two jail sentences for theft and drugs offences.

Shortly after that picture was taken, he boarded a plane and later was arrested in Paris - for Heroin possession. In 1992, he received the Cesar award for the most promising actor. At the age of 37, he died of pneumonia.

Wow! But now, on a more upbeat note, Spike Lee is my guy. I’ve never met him, but the following story is my detailed account of how I’ve been trying to rectify that problem and why I believe our visit is right around the corner.

I’ve been riding with Spike Lee since his 1986 breakout movie She’s Gotta Have It. Back then, aside from a few movies starring Bill Cosby, Sidney Poitier, Harry Belafonte and Richard Pryor, I can’t remember if a movie featured a black cast or if the directors were black. Well, there were movies like Super Fly, Shaft, Cotton Comes To Harlem, and those black exploitation movie, but Spike‘s narrative and direction was a new day.

Before Spike Lee’s arrival, many black faces in cinema were reduced to caricatures that displayed people of color in a negative light. We took it all with a kind of astringent good humor, refusing at times, even to consider defending those false images, because, for the most part, we didn’t have enough avenues to do that.

But now, as the world turns, we now have a black president, and I, a black man, was given the opportunity; in this racist society, to express my opinions in a local newspaper, that in which I intend to share parts of this post.

Much has been written about race and racism; I personally feel that it will demand a far less guilty and constricted people than the present-day American to be able to assess it all; it’s importance to the survival of our society, however, I can safely assume that others, albeit begrudgingly, need to hear the narratives/voices from people of colors.

Anyway, before I get too far off the core of this post, in short, I believe Spike Lee was a fresh new voice of black consciousness. And, I’ve been following him every since he hit the block.

So, a few weeks ago I was tickle pink (dark brown) when an acquaintance (Sergio Mims, a writer for Ebony magazine) informed the blogsphere that Spike Lee was going to be in Chicago, promoting his new book Do The Right Thing. The book is celebrating just more than 20 years since the seminal debut of the movie by the same name. Okay, now it was my time to met Spike and get an autographed book to boot. However, two days before the scheduled day of the event, Dec 22nd 2010, I had reservation on a flight to Atlanta. I caught my flight but all goodbyes were not gone. I have a cousin that lives in Chicago on South Lake Shore Drive that let me convince her to stand - tall and proud - in my place. I got my autograph “to Carey, my greatest fan in Iowa”, (Photos above) but I didn’t get a chance to meet Spike.

But wait, remember my friend Sergio Mims, he again informed the blogsphere, through one of my favorite blogspots, Shadow and Act http://www.shadowandact.com/, that spike had booked a return engagement in Naperville, a suburb outside Chicago. Spike is scheduled to be the keynote speaker at a Martin Luther King celebration, Jan 18th, 2011. Oh boy, here we go again.

I have another cousin - a niece - that lives right in Naperville. So, upon hearing that great news, I scurried to the phone to apply for my hookup tickets. I also contacted Sergio, who lives in Chicago, to see if he’d like to join me. At first he said it was too far for him to drive waaaaay out to Naperville, but if I came to pick him up, he’d be glad to ride along. Now I’m thinking, I would have to drive 200 miles to attend this event and he lives a stones throw away, but I said okay. You know, "a journey shared with another, is more deeply moving an experience than a journey taken alone"
Now... the tickets.

Well, you know how it is when a friend or family member says they have you covered, and then, they don’t. Yep, my niece carries all the genes of a young black woman, and so, things got a little shaky. I had faith that she could acquire ticket because she copped six tickets when Cornel West spoke at the same function - just last year.

After I informed Sergio of our quandary, he went to work. He told me that he might be able to get a couple of press passes. I forgot Sergio was the man, who probably was on the A-list of writers in Chicago, so I was thrilled when I heard that great news.

Now we’re set to go, but wait, Sergio hit me with another e-mail... “Well [Carey]I've got good news and bad news. I just got a call from them. They gave me a ticket for the Lee event. That's it's ONE ticket. I couldn't get another one”But like a true trooper “the show must go on” he hit me with another message saying, “O.K. but we're still going together right?”. I started to call him back and tell him, hell no, there’s no way I was going to let him in my car, wearing a tuxedo, smiling, as he waved his front row pass - in my face. But again, I wavered and said, yes, we’re still going together. So it's on, the two of us are off to see Spike Lee. I finally managed to get a ticket in the nose bleed section.

But see, Sergio doesn’t know this (unless he reads this post) but I am planning on getting a big ass camera and pretend I am his camera man or personal assistant. Yes sir, it’s my plan to buy a fake, but great looking press pass, and strut to the front, like I am somebody. And then, when the evening progresses to the Q&A portion of the program, I’m going to drop that camera, jump to my feet, frantically waving my hands in the air and say “Right over here Mr. Spike Lee, I have a question for you” . Hopefully he will say “Yes, Mr. CareyCarey, what can I do for you?”. Then I’ll say, “Nothing, I just wanted to tell everyone who will listen, that I met you”

NEVER FORGET!

2011-12-25T09:11:00.000-06:00

There are lessons to be learned from the Jewish community. They are adamant about never letting the world forget about their Holocaust. We as "post racial blacks" have closed our eyes to the horrors of slavery. Yeah, we have a few museums that display a bronzed slave catcher standing guard over a bent head African. I saw Alex Haley's Roots, it was a nice sterile movie. How, or why have we given our history to the ones that shaped it. To the victor goes the spoils - huh.

Didn't we lose millions to the middle passage and the years of slavery!? Can you imagine your skin being rubbed off in the bottom of a dank dark slave ship? Can you imagine the horrors of smelling death laying next to you .....for months? Go a few days without a bath and then imagine laying on your back shackled like a dog while another person's feces dripped down on you - day after day for months on end. How much therapy or medication would it take to rid oneself of the images of a daughter been led away to be raped and raped again and never returned. When death becomes a viable alternative to living, that which ushered in that existence needs to be remembered, I've been there. I've lived through my own holocaust.

I rarely write social commentary and although this post started in that direction, it was merely my way of saying... NEVER FORGET. It was inspired by pprscribe @ http://postpostracial.wordpress.com/ . Now here is the core of today's post.

Have you ever felt like giving up? I've been there! Well, there's no more rain in these clouds. My new motto is "What About A Time Called Now"!

However, I been to a place that I don't ever want to forget. Not just a place in time, but in my heart and in my mind, there is a place I don't ever wish to return to. Never forget!

But, be my friend for a few minutes. I need to take someone with me. Lets go back together.

I was talking to Tia @ http://tias-mind.blogspot.com/ she was saying how she used her blog to get through troubled times. She said writing about her pain helped her get to another place.

During the darkest periods of my life, I started a journal. I started that journal over 15 years ago. I had bought into the ideology that men didn't cry, so I cried to and in my journal. I did not have a place to hang my hat, so I wrote in my journal. In retrospect, I think I may have been unconsciously leaving a suicide note. I've never contemplated suicide but there's been periods in my life in which I didn't wish to wake up.

If you would, come with me to my journal. I never want to forget where I came from, and thus, never return. So I want to share a little of my struggle with you:

*Journal notes, May thru July, 199*:

I am down on the ground. My demons have kicked my ass. I lost my home. I went to jail for a major crime. I am lost, I don't know how to do this thang called life. Man, I am lost. I have no real friends, they are all gone. I do have one friend named Gerald who has saved me on several occasions. He too lost his wife so he can relate to this journey. However, that is our only similarities. Yet he has truly been a real friend and I am blessed to have one.

Cont....I am broke and jobless. I have no direction, yet I still have dreams and hope. I am lost but I haven't given up. I am lonely, I am blessed. I am continually amazed at the blessing that have come my way in spite of myself. I like nothing about my life. I am trapped in this nightmare and I continually go down and down. I've lost my way. I still have dreams and hope but I am lost. I've hurt my children by my self destructive ways. I have a wonderful daughter and a strong son. I've let them down. They need me and I need them. I have a grandson named after me. Yeah, my daughter named him after me and my son. Damn, what am I doing? How can I get right. I am drowning. I tried for days to fight this thang and I could not hold out. I went out and threw bricks at the penitentiary. I don't know what to do. I am confused. I can't do this on my own and I know it. I have to ask for help. I can't do this on my own!

Cont.... Was not welcomed. I have past experiences with them. I'll try something else but what? Further down, I am falling deeper into despair. The car stopped on me today. I have been hearing strange sounds coming from under the hood for about 2 weeks. Today I lost all my gages on the dashboard. Shortly after the car........forget it. The car is dead! My demon is rampant.
Pain-hope-death-jail-depression-fear-love-work-jobless-breadline-salvation army-homeless-no running water-no lights-stealing-lying-church-calling out to god-loss of my children's respect- a GRANDSON! Depression-lights aglow- hope on the horizon-dark tunnels-awake to emptiness-loneliness-music-car problems- the loss of my best friend, my rock, my love ...she is gone. Years without her. I've been floating on the brink of ........of........ nothingness. How could I go from earning six figures, to this degree of living? How, when ...when will I know. I can't give up!!! I must pray for the courage to fight. I love my kids. I think I did a good job of raising them. I showed them right and wrong. They are good people.

jjbrock said...
Great post Carey I never contemplated suicide but I sure wanted to walk away from life.

CareyCarey said...
Thank you jj, I feel you. I didn't know where I was going but I knew I couldn't stay there

Keith said...
INCREDIBLE WRITING, JUST INCREDIBLE
IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY!!!

I think all writers have had their own seperate hells.

CareyCarey said...
Thanks Keith. If a person doesn't believe in the adage "no pain, no gain" I will simply tell them to live a little and maybe they should stock up on a few items because I've yet to hear of a life that's absent of tribulations.

Tia's Real Talk said...
I am not often lost for words or speechless, but the Carey has caught my tongue. lol
If at a poetry reading, you would get a standing snap! (they snap instead of clap)
Let me first start by saying thank you for the plug, and thank you for sharing and revealing your soul. Even if you felt it didn't help you, it did. Satan now knows that you are no longer holding on to this. He want secrecy so he can play with your mind, but you are overcome by your testimonies! This will help so many of us learn what to say and how to help others. We dont always have to experience things to learn a lesson. I learn very well from others. My heart felt pain when you spoke of losing your wife but mostly of how you speak so negatively about yourself. Your daughter naming her son after you is because of the man you have become, not because of the man you once were. You have strength beyond belief. It didn't kill you, you lived to tell another story and for that you are strong. He wouldn't allow it if it was meant to kill you. Thats not HIS purpose or plan for your life. Thank you so much for trusting us to share your most inner thoughts with. My hat is off to you!!!

Don't you feel better just a lil? Admit it. lol

CareyCarey said...
Well Tia, I first have to say that you did inspire this post. We've shared a few "exchanges" and I thank you for that. On the issue of feeling better, I have been working on the belief that no words can harm me ...mine or others. By that I mean, if it's the truth I either can accept it or let it drown me. As I mentioned, those words were written several years ago, so I've had time to process the emotions that go along with them. It is however a new experience to share them with the world. Of course there is more, but even though I believe my words can not harm me, I decided to post parts of my "middle passage" before the first and last parts of my journal because some of my journey is still hard to visit. I may explain that in a future post.

A standing snap huh? Okay, thank you. I know that you do not go clubing anymore (read you post) so I am sending a hug your way and not a shot of Jack Daniels. Wait, you probably are/were a cognac drinker. But no drinks from me, only a kiss on the cheek.

FreeMan said...
WOW, and I'll be the first to tell you I've been down that hole myself now your way to get there wasn't the same as mine but I can truly understand. It's not suicide but it's the long hard trek to right the ship and there ain't no sunshine for a while. I used to tell people my life was so bad I just kept my head down until I bumped into the sun. So when you talk about suicide in the I ain't going to do it but if I'm not here tomorrow I'll be cool with it way I have had that experience too.

The good thing brother is we live to see another day. Out of that craziness came a reason and also a bravado of thinking to myself I've taken the blows and I know these cats who say they are like me are way the hell off.

On point, the reason why Blacks don't speak of their holocaust is because we are still with the Germans. Also, most educated Blacks want to say we have moved on and no need to dwell on the past. If anyone really looked at what was done it'll be hard to want to be an American with these white guys. The it wasn't me it was my ancestors speech wouldn't fly. Look homie we just don't have as many pictures as the Jews do to build a museum, but we have our last names and their religion to proves something is obviously wrong!

CareyCarey said...
Good point Freeman, several educated blacks wish others to believe the struggled started with Martin luther king. Truth be told, if there wasn't a Malcolm, Huey or even H Rap Brown, there wouldn't be a King holiday.

You're right, we don't have the pictures of piles of bones or people being thrown overboard. I could have went somewhere with that post but I decided to go in another direction ...some can't stand the truth or don't want to hear it.

Yeah man, as I've said in other posts, I've been nigga rich but my struggles showed me the importants of finding out what really matters. When I took my fall I had a brand new car sitting in the garage. I ordered it ...I backed that baby off the delivery semi. I was the first one to fart in it *smile*. I was a rabbit. I jumped out of the gate real fast. Now I am a turtle, slow and steady.

Suicide wasn't an option for me but at the time it looked real good. Hell, I was a dead man walkin', all I needed was a grave.

I now live by the motto: "What About A Time Called Now" it's gonna be alright in the morning, just hold on and do the right thang.

I am very grateful to be here ...alive and sane!

Mizrepresent said...
This is one of your most poignant posts, so real, so you...all of which we talked about before. It takes a whole lot of courage to share your life and your pains with strangers, so i commend you on that...but u should know, your sharing is a blessing. It helps others...funny how our pains heals others huh...God is truly at work here.

CareyCarey said...
Thanks Miz, but before you throw out any more "good stuff" another post is coming up and ...yes, I think I drpped your name *smile*.

Nope, didn't even ask you *lol*.

Sweet Drops Of Rest

2011-12-24T15:24:00.000-06:00

Patience is man's best virtue - that's what they say. Well, I doubt if I'd be considered of moral excellence, but I'd like to think I have some admirable qualities. Yet, patience is not my best virtue. I've known for some time that it's been hard for me to accept delays and inconveniences without complaint. I hate waiting in long lines.

So I love sweet drops of rest. I love a good thunderstorm. When it rains I sleep like a new born baby that's nursing on it's mother's breast milk. I am full and content and the world is my oyster. However, one day, many years ago, a thunderstorm caught me by surprise. I lived in an area called the corn belt. Life was good, jobs were plenty; everyone could get a job. The home offices of major farm implement companies were in the area. John Deere was there and so was International Harvester. The Case Company was nearby. They all make tractors and combines. I could look out my window and see the smoke billowing from their foundry's. Blacks folks could even get a job. Some of the work was very hot and very dangerous.

The Companies raw materials and finished products were transported by railways and river barges. The barges could be a nuisance. The bridges on the Mississippi river had to be raised so they could pass through. I hated the trains, there were hundreds of them and many of them passed through the city.

Having lived in the area for some time, I sort of became accustom to delays, sort of. Well, I knew the times in which each manufacturer would likely be shipping out large orders. Train traffic slows down at night, the loud whistles can disturb the peace. Without failure, early in the morning the loud roar of train engines and their warning whistles permeated the air. On my usual route I had to cross three different train intersections but I had a plan worked out. A plan of action was necessary because these were not small engines and several were used in unison to pull hundreds of box cars. Waiting for a train to pass could mean being late for work and the boss didn't play that. My plan involved timing.

One day my lover, Mrs. Thunderstorm didn't love me anymore. Well, she threw a wrench in my game. Did I mention the fact that the area is frequently visited by tremendous tornadoes? Yep, it is. One morning while I was on my way to work, my progress was impeded by trees in the street and downed power lines. I could weave through the down branches and drifting garbage cans but trains were stalled across several tracks. A tornado had come through overnight - my time schedule was shot. I became annoyed waiting in line and decided to take a different route. My lack of patience took me to a place I will never forget.

I thought I'd be clever and go through the white part of town where the trains were not so prevalent. It was a longer route but I thought I could gain time if I didn't get arrested for being a black man on the wrong side of town.

Don't most funerals take place in the afternoon? I didn't know what was going on but I turned a corner and again I was stopped by a long line of cars. This time a funeral procession was passing. The deceased was in a horse drawn carriage. I didn't know the name of the deceased but the person was popular -very popular! There must have been five hundred followers. So, while waiting, I noticed a pay phone. I got out of my car and called my employer. I told him I was going to be late and might as well take the morning off.

As my patience wore thin, my curiosity peeked. I was wondering who this person could be that had so much family or so many friends. I decided to follow the procession to where ever they were going. After driving several miles it was obvious this was not your ordinary run of the meal type person. I found myself in a secluded area. I parked away from the gathering crowds and slowly approached them. They all were dressed in strange attire - several were crying. One said if the deceased had only waited he'd still be alive. Others questioned if he jumped to his death. I stuck out like a sore thump but I had to find out the identity of this person. I walked closer to the crowd that had gather around an open casket. At first I thought the person had died from a broken heart because I heard one saying "all of those men couldn't put him back together". When I heard another say that he had no business going up there, I realized he had fallen to his death .

As I was about to peek my head through the crowd to get a look at the person, I heard children begin to sing. I thought I heard the words king and horses, then I heard the sounds of car horns. The children continued:

..." Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall/ Humpty Dumpty had a great fall/ all the kings horse and all the kings men/ couldn't put Humpty back together
again"

I woke up to the sounds of someone taping on my car window. I was still in my car waiting at the train tracks. Sweet drops of rest. The thought of a passing thunderstorm must have put me to sleep and my impatience took me on a ride to Humpty Dumpty's funeral. I can't wait for another thunderstorm. Maybe next time I'll be the president of the United States. Well, maybe I should think about that?

LOVE JONES GONE COLD

2011-12-23T01:07:00.000-06:00

Who cares about a man that robbed banks to satisfy the wishes of his lover... a lover who was never satisfied? Who cares about a maddening love affair that - like a tornado - tore through their lives and the lives of their family and friends? Who really cares how a love triangle... tangled in a world of despair and lost dreams - found redemption? Although their love at times was a satisfying love, they eventually had to part ways, each carrying away a lost soul. But who wants to hear about how one of them, through the spirit of human survival and a belief in his God - found a way to relieve their soul, and thus, find a peace of mind? I can't help but believe - only a few - really want to hear how they made it to the end of their Jericho Road. You know, like that winding meandering road on the way to their Jerusalem, which was 2200 feet below sea level, started at their Jericho, which was 1100 ft above sea level. It was a very dangerous road. Treachery and trickery and faint hope, awaited all that traveled it's path. Thousands had traveled that road, yet only a few, with the conviction Job, ever made it to their destination. They, the lovers, had to develop a kind of dangerous unselfishness to find the real meaning of life.

Love jones gone cold.

The power of love is a curious thing, make a one man weep, make another man sing. Change a hawk to a little white dove. More than a feeling, that's the power of love. Don't take fame. Don't need no credit card to ride this train.

Huey Lewis said it, THAT'S THE POWER OF LOVE!

I know a little something about love. And, I need a new kind of drug cuz love whipped my ass.

But let's flash back.

I 've seen the images of junkies on television. I watched Frank Sinatra in The Man With A Golden Arm. I saw the mug shots of Nick Nolte and Robert Downey Jr. I've witnessed the distant gaze of Keith Richards and Ozzie Osborn. Who hasn't seen Jungle Fever and watched Samuel Jackson do his crack monkey dance in an effort to obtain a bump? Pookie, played by Chris Rock, was a shining example of a crack head gone wrong. Marvin Gaye asked What's Going On? And we all saw his demise. I think it safe to say, all the above were looking for a little "bump" - of something. I wonder if it was a bump of life? You know, a sparkle in their otherwise boring life or boring day. But, how could someone be bored with a life of riches and fame, or a life that others would die for?

Well, if you have a little time, let me tell you a story about a man I know. This man had a college education, a loving wife and family, and a six figure job. He didn't always make that kind of money, but he was never a candidate for the cheese line.

He owned his own home, his wife and children could dress with the best of them. Yet, through it all, he had a chronic addiction starting at the age of 18. I know that man because that man is a close friend of mine. He fell into that abyss - that deep dark dense blue world - not with the mind of Socrates or Euripides, but with with the mind - a common mind - a young mind - that didn't know the power of love, nor the meaning of it.

At first glance, one would believe I am referring to the reciprocal love we receive and give another person. Oh no, he had that covered. He knew the dangers of giving one's heart to another. On many levels, I saw the hurt and pain of that kind of love; that seemingly intoxicating, trance producing elixir, that propelled people to jump out windows, cut their wrist, and kill their lover who didn't love them anymore. Those who kissed it's lips, frequently bare witness to someone who wished they had not found love. No way was he - this wannabe intellectual - going to give his heart to another, to have them do as they pleased. Consequently, for many years he ran from any resemblance of an unconditional love - regardless of how nice and pleasant the women looked. He had serious doubts that he would ever find a love that would love him - till death do they part. Many opportunities came his way, but his mind was made up; that kind of love don't love nobody.

Yet, trite but true, ignorance is bliss. He found a lover that always loved him back. She was a foreigner with chocolate brown skin and a sweet smell, all her own. She was quiet and humble and always made him smile. When he wrapped his arms around her, she made him feel like a king; holding him, loving him, never to let him go. The world was his oyster and she was his queen. Hip hip array for love at first sight. He found his dream come true.

But something was very mysterious about her. She didn't require much. He could sleep in all day and stay out all night, yet she never said a word. She was loving him but, she was smoothing him; always by his side, married but not married, she was always there when he needed her. However, she was too much - to much love, the sex was right - she was always on his mind - even in his sleep. He wondered how he - this strong man - could have fallen so deeply in love. Not he, who kept a keen eye on his heart, this couldn't be happening to him. But it was and he was scared, so he left, he ran, he ran to a place called Center City, Minnesota; a small town outside Minneapolis.

It was a rural town of mostly white folks.

The place that my friend temporarily called home, was an enclave for the rich and famous. Politician and their children were there, along with a host of entertainers, airplane pilots, models, sports figures, and of course, the common blue collar worker. There was even a couple of federal FBI agents. He, my friend, was the only black face in the crowd.

His lover called while he was away, but he didn't answer her cries. He couldn't, his mind was made-up. Yet, as the story goes, he did, however, eventually return to the comfort of her arms. Yet, before his return, he married another woman and she became his chick on the side.

In many ways, he loved the other woman more than his wife. His wife knew about her but she seldom broached the subject. He was a hard working father, and she and their children had all the material things in life. Yet, one day, she did say "you don't love me, you love her".

Well, I've often said that I don't write much social commentary, nor gossip, and today is no different. So, today - since I plan on continuing the story (only if you care to read it) - I have to say the above "HE" is me. I wasn't talking about a friend, I was giving a snap-shot of my life. And, the mentioned "enclave" is a place called Hazelton; the most prestigious drug and alcohol center in the USA. My lover; her name was HEROIN. Not the person but the drug. For many many years, I loved heroin, and it loved me back and I was hooked on her. I would die for her and even go to jail for her... the latter of which actually came to fruition. But the story does not end there. There is shame and blame, hope and pain in the middle of my story.

Whomever cares to read more, just whistle, or holler, or say whatever is on your mind. Ask questions. Until then, I'll hold mine, very close to my vest. But you have to know, in order for me to keep what I have gained by going through that struggle, I have to give it away.

A.Smith said...
Several things come to mind... I'll share a few.My ex, the one I write so much about, was addicted to heroin. At the time, I didn't have much patience for his addiction. I had a lot, maybe too much, patience for him, but not his addiction. That may not make sense, but it was true.I've since gained a deeper understanding of just what addiction is and how it functions and I have a lot more patience for it now than I did then and I wish I had been more understanding. That may read wrong -- because I don't regret being repulsed by his addiction, I just wish I could've conveyed different feelings for him instead of my repulsion for his addiction.In any case, he did what he wanted. Always.Thank you for sharing, Carey. I'm looking forward to whatever else you share.
January 30, 2011 2:01 AM

CareyCarey said...
Hello Ms Smith, everything you said made absolute complete sense. I know his story and your story; you, the bewildered lover, and he, the addicted."In any case, he did what he wanted. Always"There it is. Many may not understand what I am about to say but, "HE" is the addiction. "HE" will always come first and do what it wants to do. Ashley, I am glad you showed up. By listening to your stories (about your guy) I knew what his problem was. If other folks stop in (and want to hear more), I'll share more. The purpose of me telling my story is two fold. First, I have to, so I'll never forget the horrors of my addiction. It's part of the ongoing process. Second - and the most important - the loved ones of the addicted individuals, suffers as much pain, if not more than the addicted. They are frequently lost, blaming themselves at times, because they didn't know what to do, and few places to share "their" kind of pain and story. In short, my story is not for the addicted - they know the story - it's for those on the outside.So, if nobody wants to hear the story, I'd just be preaching to the choir. Thus, I'll hold it close to my vest.Btw, I try write my stories in an interesting fashion, as not to bore the reader. So I hope I accomplish my goal.
January 30, 2011 10:08 AM

Mizrepresent said...
Great post Carey. I've heard your story from your own lips, but this writing here is very touching. I had a brother as well who was addicted to Heroin after leaving VietNam and he finally was able to walk away from it only to find another. I would love to hear more...Excellent.

And, the following music video is something to reflect on.

TO MY NAY-SAY FRIENDS OF TYLER PERRY AND FOR COLORED GIRLS.

2011-12-22T16:16:00.000-06:00

Blow it out your ass! Yeah, that's what I said, find a clue and some toilet paper.

Well carey,"Tyler Perry is a Black dysfunction porn pimp. He thinks that because he's so dysfunctional that all Black people are as well. I think Oprah falls into this category too"

Is that right? Well let me tell you a thang or two. I get so tired of negros that watch a movie, and then cry about how it makes "us" look. Give me a freaking break! First, it's a damn movie, okay. It's one story in time. It's one of a thousand avenues in which one could draw a conclusion and/or opinion on any number of topics including race, sexual abuse, or rather or not the Miami Heat will win the NBA Championship. Depending on who you ask, it's highly probably a mega-ton of thoughts will follow.

And please excuse me, did I miss the memo? When did the mystical "ambiguous" other folks (eye in the sky) ever love us? I mean, did I miss the call that said we've been loved for the last 200 years? If there was no such doctrine, then why (NOW?) are some folks concerned with how a movie (one movie) projects a black face, or highlights real issues within our community?

Come on, if a person gets their core knowledge from a damn movie and uses that "limited" knowledge to draw a conclusion based solely from that source, THAT person is an idiot! Consequently, if someone worries about that fool's opinion, then hey, what does that say about them? If you talk to a fool long enough, there will soon be two fools talking - and arguing - talking about absolutely nothing.

So Tyler Perry portrays the black man as an evil usurper of woman. Really... how so, and even though, so.... and? And what, those monsters don't exist? Spare me, Tyler Perry didn't create those brutal men, look out your window, or look in your family tree. Please, lets keep this real. Who's fooling who?

Listen, personally I do not think Tyler Perry is a great director. But that opinion is not based on the subject matter in his films. Why should it? And now we have some folks attacking the man's character because some of his films include abused women and whorish men. Lordy lordy, we don't want that to get out. The general public can't handle that new (news). What will they think of us now? Do you hear me.... nothing has changed because there's nothing to change.

Didn't the same freaks come out at night when "Precious" landed. Didn't I hear the same black zombies and mammy rags cry foul? Sure I did. In fact, I wrote a song about it. Here it goes...

The greatest show on earth. The most super-fabulous, splenderocious, Mega-magnanimous event of the year. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Ray "Jamie Fox" Charles vs Mary "Mo’nique" Jones. Tyler Perry and the man that raped the woman in For Colored Girls.

But first, let’s get the preliminary fights out of the way.

I am still alive. I mean, I watched the movies "Precious" and "Ray" and For Colored Girls, and I am still here. That must make me a special kind of survivor - huh? I don’t feel compelled to shoot heroin or rape my daughter, so I must be special. My white neighbors still wave at me as they pass by. I don’t know what they are saying in their homes, nor do I care.

A Precious lived down the street from me. The rumors and whispers surrounding the father of her children have stood the test of time. We called her father, Icewater.

The other day I passed by the welfare office. I spotted several "Mo`niques" exchanging Newport cigarettes. I knew some of them – I waved and kept driving.

I know several women that have been brutalized by the hands of men. In fact, last year, one was murdered by the hands of her lover. And check this, ol'boy had done it before. After doing a ten year bit, he got out and did it again. Now he's doing life.

Let me continue. Last week I accompanied my granddaughter to her school. Ms. Cornrolls, the schools receptionist , greeted me with a smile. I returned the favor and threw in a hug.

I’ve coached teenage thugs. I know their mothers and fathers.

I am still alive. "Precious" and "Ray" and "For Colored Girls" are movies. Can we move forwards?

Did Mo`nique kill the part of Precious Jones!? Did she not waver in that role? Wasn’t she the epitome of every abusive mother in the world. How about Kimberly Elise in FCG? Did she bring her A-game or what? Thandie Newton might not get an Oscar nod for her performance but she was the best whorish tramp that I've seen in some time. But wait, they were black women in despair, so we can't champion their roles, can we?

Jamie Fox was Ray Charles. While watching "Ray" I witnessed Jamie morph into Ray Charles, one of the greatest R & B singers of all time. And remember, Ray Charles was a heroin addict. I wonder how many people bought a trey bag after watching that movie?

In every detail, Mo`nique captured my vision of the quintessential angry, hostile, vicious, manipulative, cunning and insecure women. She took me there. And wait, Ray Charles was a womanizer. I wonder what the white man thinks about that. Well, no I don't. Again, I could care less about their views of us. I mean, why should I? They will continue to do what they've always done. That is, let us hang ourselves, while they sit back, and wait, to pickup the trash.

I understand Ray Charles addiction to heroin. I also understand the resentment Mary Jones had for her daughter, however, I do not condone either’s behavior. Yet, I am sure neither individual signed up for that road of ignorance. Therefore, I refuse to convict them for their character flaws or lay total blame at their feet, nor that of Lee Daniels, the director of Precious. Mary Jones said "I did what my mother told me".

I few days ago, a friend of mine told me that Mr. So-n-So was a good man. I asked her how she knew that. She paused, then said "well, he had a good job and tired to show his son’s how to be men". I asked her if she’d ever been in his house. She said it was a dirty mess. She went on to say there were rumors of him abusing his wife. Rumors mind you, but she did notice his wife’s soft steps when in the company of her husband. My friend was married to this man’s son. She said he was the worst SOB she’d ever known. He abused her for 30 years. Opps, I shouldn't talk about that, right?

Mo `nique (Mary Jones) did what her mother told her. She pointed a finger at Precious and said, "It’s this bitches fault, she made [my man] leave. She let him have her. She made him leave, who else is gonna love me!?". That damn Lee Daniels and Tyler Perry, they're always throwing that mess in our face, right? Wrong, the mess was already in our face, some folks just don't want to look at it.

Jamie Fox’s portrayal of Ray Charles was one of the best performance I `ve seen in my lifetime.
The scene in the welfare office with Mariah Carey (Ms. Weiss) and Precious was grand theater. Mo `nique’s acting in that scene was probably the best performance that I `ve ever witnessed by a black actress. No, not probably, it was the best performance I ‘ve ever seen. I’d argue against any contenders.

Tyler Perry's latest effort may not be Oscar worthy, and truthfully, it's not. However, much of the criticism is pointed in the wrong direction. But really, and more importantly, what can we REALLY do to change the minds of those that love to swim in negativity? Think about that.

And think about why I didn't give my overall review of For Colored Girls? Well, I'll tell you. This morning I talked about this movie for about 3 hours. I got strung out debating this movie with the poet laureate of our city. Really, that's her official title. So I had my hands full. Then my daughter called and it was on again. So I was worn out. But if you ask me a few questions, I can't tell a lie.

When it's all said and done, black directors make movies they feel are relevant to their personal agendas and those of their targeted audience (which is generally black). White people have nothing to do with it. Negroes need to move past their paranoiac race fantasies of persecution and see reality for it is. And listen, the Negroes who were upset about Chris Rocks movie were embarrassed that non-whites would now know the astringent details of the difficulty of grooming and managing black hair (as if they didn’t already know!). Outside of the deep rooted shame and self loathing of their natural hair, there is no sane reason for Negroes to protest such movie as Precious, FCG and Good Hair. I personally heard two black women bitterly complain that Rock had “exposed black women’s secrets” (I know…I know, as pathetic as that sounds -I actually heard them say it!). Same can be said for the movie Precious. It was a hard core gritty story about a young black woman’s tragic life. All the trappings and characters in the movie are real and black America is filled with legions of Negroes who are carbon copies of every single character in this movie. So why all the histrionics and temper tantrums about situations, behavior and characters that are pandemic in black America? Makes no sense to me.

Bishop Eddie Long, Steve Harvey and Tyler Perry: Pimps up and hoes down.

2011-12-20T16:07:00.000-06:00

Welcome all you facebook travelers and Google-ooglers. Click on the thang and have a few laughs. If you don't think it's funny, you're probably a member of New Birth MBC. But don't shoot the messengers. I'm just presenting the news *smile*

If you enjoyed this little humorous clip, there is another that you might enjoy. It's an interview of Eddie Long *wink*... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-hDu7wqQk0&feature=player_embedded

BABIES MOMMA DRAMA, ONE TWO and THREE

2011-12-18T11:32:00.000-06:00

It's crying time again you're gonna leave me, I can see that far away look in your eyes. I can tell by the way you hold me darling, that it won't be long before it's cryin' time.

I borrowed those words from a popular song to set the tone for this post. Well, the following piece is one of my journeys. It includes mommas and drama... a whole lot of drama. This was originally submitted in four parts. I've combined them into one post.

If a women has children by different men, what is she? Some are quick to call her a scank or a ho. Others might say she's a woman of low principles. Let me tell you a story and I'll tell you what I call them. I have a definition that's counter to popular opinion.

This story is about a man and a women that fell in love. Do you like a good love stories - I do. Like most love stories, there's a beginning, a middle and the end. This story begins with a man that had lived a few years and a young beautiful black women that was just leaving her nest. They met in the military; he a fast talker, slick walker. She was a young innocent girl out to see the world. He had a history. In fact, he was denied entry into one branch of the military because of past criminal behavior. He was young but the streets called him at an early age. Being of a criminal mind and no ones fool, he found a way to slip into a different branch of the armed forces.

Since he considered himself a lover and not a fighter and wasn't going to shoot anyone, he wiggled his way into the cool confines of office life. He felt like one of the Beverly Hillbillies ....swimming pools, movies stars AND air conditioning. Life was good, he had a first hand view of all the new women that arrived on the base. Aside from greeting them at the door, their records preceded them. At first he felt kind of funny looking at their past but he rationalized that feeling by telling his-self it's his job to make sure all their records were in order - it was one of his duties.

He came from the streets so he'd witnessed all the pimps and hustlers trying to lay their magic on women, but his thang was different. An old player told him that women love sincere men that make them smile. So his thang was sincerity with a smile and a pinch of dishonest ....just a pinch. He knew that most women felt isolated in the military and longed for home. Well, while looking through their records to see if they had any ...ahhh, any ...ahhh, things he didn't want to catch, he would look to see what high school they attended and the city they were from.

He was a clever old fox. While greeting them at the door he would extend his hand and then quickly pull it back with a startled look and say, "Helen Lampkin, German Town High School, women you haven't changed one bit". The ice was broken, the women was comfortable with her lost and found homie. Now, he still had work to do but friends before lovers was the name of the game, and two friends had found each other on a lonely military base.

One such women tweaked his heart along with his love of hide and go seek. She was a city girl that walked with a long stride that said, I know I look good and you can't have any. Her shoulders were back and her chin was slightly tipped up. She had heard all the lines. Women like that don't have to sleep alone. The old wolf knew he had to come with a new game. He decide just to be sincere without any lies. He told her what he generally did when anticipating a new arrival but that he just want to be straight up with her. He told her that he just wanted to meet her and he didn't want to start a friendship off with a lie. She paused and asked him if he looked in her medical records. He looked deep into her eyes and told her that he had not - he lied but the relationship blossomed :-). Hey, he was a wolf, okay.

Life was good, they were the talk of the base. They drove around in a brand new block long Oldsmobile Ninety Eight that she helped him pay for. They yelled out the windows at the other soldiers and turned up their music to blast Marvin Gay .....what's going on .....what's going' on.

They were in love. There was only one problem. This wolf turned serious lover had another lover - back home ...a child too.

Love is a funny thang, it doesn't divide in equal parts, well, not exactly.

This is part 1 of Baby Momma Drama ....Don't turn that page.

We all can rationalize our bad decision and give excuses why we committed errors in judgement. I don't wish to live in the past but I do not ever want to forget why I may have chosen a wrong path.

Even though I may have given the impression that I was promiscuous in my early years of military life, I was not. The military is much like any job or career. The workday has set hours and one goes to work and then goes home. Many military bases are like small rural communities. Some are in isolated areas. Even though I spoke of meeting women upon their arrival at the base, there were not many women.

I went in the military to start a new life. But as my mother would say, if you play with a puppy, it will lick you in the face. My father's version was, if you sit in a barbershop you will eventually get a haircut. I fathered a child as a teenager and her mother was waiting for me back home. We had planned a life together yet I was in the arms of another women. I was hesitant about telling this part of my story because there remains a sense of guilt that I hurt others by my selfish ways. The shame and guilt goes away when I address the issues and honestly accepted my wrongdoings. When I jacked up my slacks and said I messed up, I can then move on. But to share my story and my pain with others is a new journey. The road is tough when the fingers of fault are pointing directly at me. However, I've grown tired of many depicting mothers with children by different men as some sort of women with flawed character or low morals. I was involved with two wonderful women that just happened to run into a guy like me.

While playing house with my new lover we brought another child into the world. I wasn't man enough to tell either of the women about each other so I maintained two separate lives. I was close enough to my home town that I could drive home when I choose to do so. I lived this lie for 2 years until everything came tumbling down. I had become so comfortable with living like this that I even drove my second family to my parents home to let them visit with their new grandchild. I put them in an awful position. My father would give me the look of deep concern and ask me what the hell I was doing. My mother was force to take the route of don't ask don't tell. Everyone paid a price when the news broke.

After visiting my parents one weekend, I decided to stop at a local horse racing track. My skills at picking winners wasn't very good so I decided to leave after the 5th race. I was with Rita* (*name changed) and my son. As we approached the car a voice said, "how are you doing Carey", it was Debbie*, the mother of my first child. She had a gun in her hand, a 2 shot derringer. I was stunned, I walked toward her. My son ran behind me saying daddy daddy. He didn't know there was danger, he just couldn't understand why I was walking off from him.

At that moment my life changed and so did the lives of several others.

To be continued ........... Part 3 coming

This piece was written as a series for http://coparenting101.org/.

The blogs mission if to have a place where co-parents can share their struggles of co-parenting - "the new father/the old ex/the new girlfriend/dating/ visitations, etc,.

Co-parenting is like the game of Tic-Tac-Toe; the game with the 9 squares. The square in the middle is the key. But unfortunately some parents always want to be the "ex" in the middle. The game is won when three "X's" or three "O's" are all aligned in one row, not when the ex is in the middle. It doesn't matter if they are aligned diagonally, across or up and down, they just need to be in line. But some parents are like the actor that wants to write the screenplay, build the props, and direct all the other players in their own way. They desire to be the "ex" in the center square at all cost. The co-parent turned director unknowingly turns a nice family movie into a horror flick. They stay stuck in the middle square failing to grasp the concept of a team player - family player. Tic-Tac- OH NO! Although the center square can be key to winning the game, the game can be won without it.

There I was, stuck in the middle. A man that had walked a tightrope of life was about to fall down. I was stuck between a gun wielding women and another woman lost in disbelief. Debbie's eye left mine and slowly traveled to the child running behind me. She looked back at me and then back to the child. Her face said it all, she realized that was my son. Her eyes swelled with tears. Rita was behind me calling my name.

Debbie was by no means the type of woman to carry a gun. Years later I asked her what she was going to do with the gun, she said, shoot your ass! I asked her why she didn't do it. She said, what kind of woman would she be if she shot a man while a crying child ran behind him saying, daddy daddy. I then asked her where she got the gun and she said, your brother.

I think it's safe to assume that many have a few choice names for me. I do not think it would be a stretch to include louse and jerk, and I would agree. However, in defense of myself, I would rather have been a wolf, a pig or a dog than to presently be a bad parent. I am not saying it's okay to be bad person or to have been a bad person. I think it's wiser to learn from our mistakes and grow through them. Some individuals are lousy husbands and dreadful wives yet good parents. Many people can not live with another person or at least their ex. Some didn't know how to love another until a child came into their lives. To a large degree, my story is no different than any other co-parent. There's a relationship or relationships that didn't work out. We can start right there. Who was at fault? Does it really matter?! Who's the judge of righteousness?

Parenting is not a reflex move - our emotions control us. We are the only animals on earth that get up by alarm clocks, and not because we are no longer sleepy. We drink several bottles of water because someone said it's the right thing to do, not because we are thirsty. We do so many things on the advice/words of others. Frequently they no nothing about us, nor our predicaments.

I had two great parents. My father has passed away. My father was the best man I've ever known. Not simply because he was my father, just because he was a good man. After my father passed away, I found out that he too had an affair. In fact, he also had a child by another women. The man was about the same age as my older brother. I came across this information by accident when a person asked me why I didn't attend my brother's funeral. I knew "my" brother had not died so I went to my mother to ask questions. They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. My father made a few mistakes as a young man and I knew nothing about them. Had my mother used this information in a spiteful way, it could have affect the whole family dynamics. There's a valuable lesson in my mother's silence. I think it's important that the child make the determination of the character of the man and it should not come from the mouth of the other parent - it serves no purpose.

The Momma drama continues....

Standing between two women, I was riddled with shame and guilt, I didn't know what to do. Debbie dropped her head and walked away. Rita was furious. I picked up my son and walked toward the car. It was a five hour drive back to the military base. Rita lived in base housing. I frequently stayed there several nights. We were not married, I had an apartment off base. That night I stayed at my apartment. The next day, after talking with Rita, I drove back to my home town to talk with Debbie. She said not to come but I went anyway.

To be continued ....... The final cut is coming up.

This piece is part of a series written for http://coparenting101.org/.
The blog's mission is to provide a place for those going through the struggles of co-parenting to share their stories and to maybe find answers. Many issues are examined - the new father/the new girlfriend/dating/problems with the ex/visitations, etc,.

This 4 part post was written for a series @ http://coparenting101.org/

I do not profess to be an expect on women's emotions. I am not a psychologist. looking back over my life, I've often wondered why the two women in my life didn't treat me differently upon finding out my secret. At that time, neither of them shut the door on me or called me dirty names. I continued to live a life with two families.

A day came when I had to make a choice. Obviously at that time I had not matured and I was trying to take the easy way out by having either Rita or Debbie make the choice for me. But neither ran off and I had to grow up. I honored my commitment with Debbie and we eventually got married. We were together for nearly 35 years. She has passed away after a battle with cancer. Looking back, I've come to appreciate how strong these women were and how they played a vital role in the development of our children.

Rita took an early discharge from the military and vanished with my son. At that time the emotional journey was too much for her to handle. My wife was sympathetic to her pain and that of mine. I had "lost" a son and she insisted that I find them. I was able to track them down through military channels. They were living in a state far from mine. The following years were a learning process.

When a person decides to entertain the overtures of another, they are attracted to that person and not necessarily the children that come along with them. Frequently the issues of co-parenting involves the new wife or the new girlfriend.

On the ex-husbands side, it involves the new husband or the new boyfriend. Divorce rates are up and families are not staying together as long as they did in days gone by. Men can be possessive and so can women. The new lovers are often intimidated by a good relationship between the ex's. Frequently, depending on the reasons behind the breakup, the old spouse has been known to oppose visit, or limits visits to the house of the ex-husband or wife while "she's" there.

Debbie told me later in our marriage that she always thought Rita was more attractive than her. She also said that since Rita had my first born son (had another son with Debbie later) that my sense of responsibility to that boy would drive me away. I learned these things later in our marriage. I also learned that was one of the reasons she agreed to let my son come and live with us for periods longer than summer vacations {less visits to her house}. I never really knew women as much as I thought I did. Some of my son's high school years were spent with us; summers with his mother. He played on a state championship football team.

I never faced the drama of the "other" women making demands. I think it was partly because the women were mature adults and had compassion and respect for each others dilemma. More so, I now believe it had something to do with the father's in their own lives. Each had a different story. Debbie's father left the home when she was a child. There were issues in Rita's childhood as well. Hence, they knew the importance of having a father in a child's life even though co-parenting puts a strain on those dynamics.

I've come to believe it's just as important that a good man be in the life of a young girl. I've met women who have said they've never been around good men, including their fathers, and therefore, thought all men were the same - bad. Debbie and Rita were never in each others company although they had to talk to each other on the phone.

Of course children try to throw parents into the middle of their compliants, mine were no different. Once my son called Rita to tell her that Debbie had "spanked" him. Well, Rita told him that if he ever calls her again in regards to Debbie spanking him, that she was going to tell her to spank him again - for her. Another time my son called his mother and told her that I made him walk to school. I never got a ride to school and thought the distance wasn't too far. She called me and asked about his situation. I told her I might have been living in the past "boy, I walked 10 miles to school" and decided to change my view. It was a pretty long distance. So I decided to buy him a bicycle. He said he would never be caught dead riding a bike to school; that was for nerds. The bike was relagated to short runs to the store and he walked to school ....he didn't die.

As I mentioned, I look back and have regrets that I didn't voice my appreciation more than I did. I was never around other co-parents, yet these days I hear the same arguments from the ex-husband or ex-wife. "The new wife is not fit to have their child around her son". It's weird because even if the children love being around the new mate, for some strange reason the ex's are not having it. Although I am not a doctor, I have my opinion why this may happen. Rita called me one day and said, "so, you have a big house, is it bigger than mine?" . In the early years of our co-parenting, I guess my son made the crucial mistake of saying something nice about my home and Debbie. Heck, I had to purchace a larger home when the children started eating more and getting bigger. Before the new purchase it was no big deal for boys and girls to sleep in the same room. But when my daughter started to develope, we knew it was time to make a change.

I don't know how this goes in other co-parenting households, but it was a sticky issue in mine. I don't know if women are more comfortable thinking the other women is a poor mother that doesn't clean her home? But it's been my experience that women don't want to hear anything good about the other women.

The problems of co-parenting are not solely related to the relationship of the parents. We thrust children together that have different parents or at least one different parent and expect them to get along just fine. More times than not, this is not the case. Children can be cruel. My son once told me that Debbie's children told him that his mother tried to steal "their" father from their mother.

Also, my children by Debbie once told me that I let Rita's son get away with murder. I wonder if we do that? I wonder if we overly protect the child that is away from his other parent? I do know that Debbie went out of her way to show love to my son. She would ask him what dinner he would like for her to cook and I will never forget, it was tuna casserole. Every time it was tuna casserole. I never liked tuna casserole.

Today I am a grandfather. Looking back, I probably would change some things. But I wonder what I would change and if that would be a good thing. I was watching the movie "Benjamin Button" and there was a scene that stuck in my mind. It was a scene in which one of the characters was hit by a moving car. In the movie, the viewer had a chance to see all the different factors involved in reaching one defining moment in life. For instance, what would have happened if the driver of the car hadn't stop to pick up a package? Also, the women that was hit by the car was detained in her apartment. What would have happened if she hadn't misplaced her keys?

Maybe most events happen for a reason. Maybe my purpose in life is to tell my story. I've made a lot of mistakes and maybe others can learn from them. I love being a father and there's nothing I would change about that.

It's hard telling a story in which others are involved and try to keep their anonymity. Sometime we want to share the good parts of our lives. I wanted to share a little something but I don't want people going up to a man and telling him that he knows this and that about his mother or his father. So, one of the sons by one of the women in this story is presently playing quarterback in the NFL. I wouldn't change a whole lot about my life, including co-parenting.

I miss my father. If he was alive today I'd look forward to calling him and telling him thank you for being a good dad.

Thanks for reading along.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
I was trying to sneak in a comment at work and accidentally posted a Father's Day greeting on the wrong post. I think it went to Mz. Jackson...Anyhoo, Love ya and wishing you a very HAPPY FATHER's DAY!Free Spirit!

Keith said...
Man this was an incredible story..I held off commenting until the entire story wa told.. A lot of times when I read you,I feel like except for a few details, I'm reading my own story...I too know about Air Force life and women and the problems that come along with both...This was very insightful and I hope it ispired at least one young reader out there..It was certainly a story that needed to be told. Big Up's to you man..for being more man than a lot of these cats out here! You were blessed to have two wonderful women in your life..That's more than a lot of guys ever get (or deserve)Happy Father's Day to you, (From one Grandfather to another :)

Opinionated Diva said...
Totally agree with Keith...incredible story. I literally said, "wow" out loud at the end.Takes strong people to co-parent and maintain their sanity...your wife was an amazing woman.

Blu Jewel said...
Having been decieved by my mother as a child into me thinking my stepfather was my biological father, I have a lot of respect for Debbie who encouraged you to find your son and have a relationship with him. I was 5 when I finally met my biological father and even though he and I grew pretty close, there was a lot he did to fail me over the years she shared. I later found out that I not just the two children I grew up with at his house, but 5 other siblings; whom I didn't meet until late in my life; save for the eldest whom I met when I was about 13.I think it's important; regardless of how the child was conceived that he/she be afforded a relationship with their parent. I think it's cruel and unfair to use adult drama as a tool and a means to manipulate or hurt the other parent. I'm happy that your situation worked in your favor in the end and that you were able to have and maintain a relationship with all your children.Love to live; live to love!

blackwomenblowthetrumpet.blogspot.com said...
Hi there!Thanks for sharing this!Wow...I commend you for finding your son and for maintaining a relationship with your children.You said:"I've come to believe it's just as important that a good man be in the life of a young girl. I've met women who have said they've never been around good men, including their fathers and therefore thought all men were the same - bad."I encounter so many black women who have had negative experiences with men - beginning in their childhoods. Many of them to feel a bit of resentment that I don't share that history. My parents got married BEFORE having children, and were degreed professionals BEFORE having children. My father wanted his children. He loved being a dad. There was no "oooops I'm pregnant!" aspect of the way he encountered fatherhood. His encounter with fatherhood was COMPLETELY intentional.I think that is a huge factor with most black men... how they encountered fatherhood and if they actually SOUGHT parenthood.As for the situation with the women... I think that men need to be EXTREMELY careful not to become involved with a woman who will not treat his children as HER OWN. Sooo often, a brotha will be enamored with a sista who is devoted and affectionate and committed but she really doesn't have those same feelings for his children. She politely tolerates them because they are part of the package...and this always surfaces later on in the relationship.Happy belated Father's Day.Peace, blessings and DUNAMIS!

Maxine said...
This is a beautiful post, Carey. It is honest, and real, and confronts issues all of us are dealing, or will probably deal with, in our lives. It's rare that men speak honestly about these things, particularly in an open forum. And while the preacher in me wants to chastise your infidelity, the reality is that monogamy is often an unrealistic aspiration, and who knows if it was even meant to be...

FEAR AND FAITH CAN NOT CO-EXIST IN THE SAME HEART: Negros Gone Wild

2011-12-16T12:05:00.000-06:00

Lippy The Lion & Hardy Har Har are a pair of Hanna-Barbera cartoon characters, a lion in a tattered top hat and vest, and a hiena in a pork pie hat and bow tie, respectfully. Hardy is the eternal pessimist that suffers from a major depressive disorder. Lippy, on the other hand, was the stereotype of someone in which hope springs eternal, hence, “lippy”.

Their cartoons revolved around ever-hopeful Lippy with reluctant Hardy serving as his sidekick. Whatever their journey, Hardy's words were always the same "Oh me, oh my, oh dear". Hardy had little faith. Consequently, he always lived in fear.

Let's see, you make the call; are you Judas, Brutus or Hardy Har Har , or can I depend on you?

Well, here’s where I am at today.

There are few things that I really hate, but I can not stand monkey see monkey do negros that proclaim they are standing with you, side by side, shoulder to shoulder in troubling time, yet at the first sign of trouble, they are gone like a turkey through the corn. And, of course, they frequently take along like minded fence straddlers.

Let me explain. Here we are at the mid-point of president Obama’s first term in office. I am reminded of his message of change and the words of - what has turned out to be - his quasi supporters. You know, the ones that have taken off their badge of courage and exposed the underbellies of their real nature; a stankin pig and a funky black cat. You know the story... “Who will help me make the bread“ he asked?... “Not I,” said the pig. . ... .“Not I,” said the cat. ... “Then I'll do it myself,” sputtered the baker.

For sure, all the funky black cats, stinking pigs and Hardy Har Har's of the world are now crying “oh me, oh my, oh dear” as they jump on their new bandwagon of “I told you so”. I’ve been seeing their Step n Fetchit asses as they throw down their signs of “we shall overcome", and then, pickup their new sign “massa, can we come back home”

Change came, but their hearts and their fears were not ready for the uncovering of the new-jack racism and cunning ways of Obama‘s detractors that have raised their ugly heads. It was always there - yet somewhat dormant - but now alive and kicking. So now all the funky black pigs have taken on the persona of their master. They bemoan the alleged errs of President Obama in an attempt to fall back in the ever so comfortable graces of their beloved Mr. Charlie.

The harshest criticism always seems to come from those that have no idea of the political process, nor the duties or restrictions of the presidency, and truly have no gift of their own. And are the epitome of a do or die cynic that’s just plain pissed off at their station in life. That is of course, unless you’re making the world a little more ugly, then that type of personality, will gladly hold your hand and dance through the stankin muck filled trappings of life, proclaiming that you, just like they, see only how awful it all is, but take pleasure in the celebration of it. Lord knows we've heard their pitiful cries... “lets get rid of Obama, we need change”. Negro please, didn’t I here that before? But now your ass wants to scurry backwards on the underground railroad.

Btw, you know (don’t you) the braves slaves, while traveling through the underground byways, shot the weakling slave that wanted to turn around. They couldn’t risk the chance of them persuading other slaves that bondage was the light. More importantly, there is no doubt the weak slave - back peddling slave - upon arriving back at his place of comfort would point fingers at the escaping slaves and sing...

I wish I was in de land ob cotton,
Old times dar am not forgotten;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
In Dixie Land whar I was born in,
Early on one frosty mornin,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

Dar's buck-wheat cakes an 'Ingen' batter,
Makes you fat or a little fatter;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
Den hoe it down an scratch your grabble,
To Dixie land I'm bound to trabble.
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

But in the end, Sam Cooke and Martin Luther King said it best.

A Change Is Gonna Come

"I was born by the river in a little tent. Oh and just like the river I’ve been running ever since. It’s been a long, a long time coming. But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will. It’s been too hard living but I’m afraid to die, cause I don’t know what’s up there beyond the sky. It’s been a long, a long time coming, but I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will. I go to the movie and I go downtown, somebody keep telling me don’t hang around. But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will. Then I go to my brother and I say brother help me please, but he winds up knocking me back down on my knees!"

Many people fear nothing more terrible than to take a position which stands out sharply and clearly from the prevailing opinion. The tendency of most is to adopt a view that is so ambiguous that it will include everything and so popular that it will include everybody -- Rev Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yes, it's true, fear and faith can not co-exist in the same heart and some negros fear the mountain. They will never find the faith to say "verily I say unto you, who so ever shall say unto this mountain, be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea; and shall not doubt, and it shall be done"

Even the cowardly lion found the strength to pass through the yellow brick road.

HAS THE SMOKE CLEARED? IF SO, N-WORDS GET READY, THERE'S A TRAIN A COMIN

2011-12-13T00:27:00.000-06:00

I was going to say negros get ready, but I didn't want some N-WORD-ERS getting mad at me. But check this train-of-thought. And remember, it's just my opinion. But hold on, cuz there IS a train coming.

Her Excellency EJS President of Liberia was recently in the states visiting a friend of mine. It was sort of a book promotion thing. I didn't know that much about Liberia. Well, Okay, I thought Marcus Garvey was the president of Liberia. Didn't he swindle a few black people with a promise of new Cadillacs, in a new land? Wait, maybe that was Daddy Rich. Dang it, that's not even right. That was Richard Pryor... wasn't it? Anyway, all I know is some negroes got together and got on a big boat and went to Africa. Don't get mad at me for saying negroes because I'm just trying to be historically correct. I can't say some niggas got on a boat. Some negros might get upset. I mean we were called negroes, okay. Yep, sambos, darkies, niggers and negroes. Hey, I didn't make up the word. I'm reminded of the time I had to fight a brotha because I called him black. So please, you say afro, some say negro, and some say the N-word. So lets wait for another personality to use the N-WORD before we go downstairs to that smoky juke joint. I'd rather sit in a tub of frog spit than debate that NeverEndingStory.

OuuuuWeeee, it's too too tuff for me.

But see, in all seriousness, I was lost about the history of Liberia. So I asked my friend a few questions about the country, the president and her book. Mocha, from "In the Cafe with Mocha television show" was the presidents host. This was her reply :

"You should definitely try the book, Liberia has a very interesting history and she does a great job of laying the foundation so that you really understand the underlying reasons for their 14 year war.

She is a very cool lady, very intelligent and warm. She was on the John Stewart Show on Thursday and actually made him a Chief"

See, I didn't know anything about a war. Well, I sort of heard about wars in Africa but I just throw them all in the same pot. I am not trying to be funny. I am sure there are many that keep a keen eye on the current events in the homeland but I have to be honest and say... I am not the one. I could fake it like the Wizard of Oz. But I'd be a fake, just like the Wizard of Oz. And who likes a faky jake... I don't. So, I asked a few more questions, she replied:

"Carey, the war was in its most simple explanation was about class. There are indigenous Liberians and what are called "Americo-Liberians" descendants of freed American slaves who were sent back to Africa with the permission/expense of the US Government. Of course many of these now freed slaves were generations removed from Africa and basically thought of the indigenous. It did not help that the US government established a government system that mirrored that of the US and placed the freed slaves in positions of power to rule over this newly settled land of Liberia. After years and years of simmering animosity as most oppressed people usually do, they rebelled. This led to 14 years of coups, corrupt government, and extreme poverty. When Ellen came into power she had a country that had no electricity or running water for 8 years, no school systems in place, 90% unemployment rate, debt 30 times more than the annual budget.

I looked at those statistics and was blown away. I looked at the poverty and the US governments part in the whole process. Then my mind went to a place few has ventured. What if the US got tired of black folk and decided to call them all in. Hold up now, let me finish. What if they preempted all programing and told all African Americans to report to "staging areas"?

Okay, we know most black people have 1 gun - or none - and 6 bullets. For the sake of argument, lets say several have a bunch of weapons. First, they would tell all white folk to get out of the cities and then bomb that bitch. You feeling me? That would corral a bunch of negroes. All your white buddies would then be nothing but white - not buddies - simply white. They sure wouldn't run to the cities with your ass. Let alone hide you in their attic. The US can't find Bin "Thin" Latin, but they'll find negroes hiding under the boardwalk.

I don't know if you've driven across the US, but if you have, you know there are miles and miles and miles of places that a brotha CAN'T hide. What? Don't believe me, ask the Indian about that.
That reminds me. The American Indian had strong warriors on swift horses. But apparently, they were not fast enough. So, we can't forget about communications. Do I need to say how vital a role that plays in any... ahh, war. A 30 day phone card is not going to get it. And BET is owned by white folks.

The Jewish community could blend in. Yep, all they have to do is change their names and take off that Star Of David. But black folks can't hide. Where are they gonna run? If they run to the West there's a great body of water called the Mississippi River. Uh huh, that's going to stop many right there. And, if some make it to the other side they will not be met by the underground railroad. Not Harriet Tubman, nor Oprah, will be waiting for them with a glass of kool-aid or a new refrigerator. Nope, cornfields, haystacks and shotguns will be the name of the game.

How many airplanes do black folks own? Heck, how many black pilots do you know? Who's going to come to the rescue of the black man in America? Is the black man really needed? Affirmative action will not fly. The bill of rights and civil rights will be null and void.

Is the black man really needed? There will be jobs for everyone - white. Unemployment will be at it's lowest. No more BET to wreck the minds of the inquisitive white kids. White folks could turn on the TV and root for all the white guys shooting 3 pointers. Dunking will be banned. There would be no more debates about immigration because everybody that even looks like they've ever kissed a dark skinned person would have to run for the hills.

I know this scenario might sound a little crazy but am just saying... is the black man needed in the US? Some might argue the contributions the black man has made on this country, like jazz and the peanut, but really? Who needs the black man to make more babies they can not afford, nor feed? Who needs the black man to sell more drugs and increase the crime rate? Why doesn't America take the black man out of his misery before unemployment hits the levels of Liberia? Heck, they're already killing each other. Should the black man get ready because isn't there a train a coming? Do we need another million man march or HBO special about the plight of the black man? Should we call Cornel West and his boys to hold another round table discussion. Maybe we should just bitch and moan and cry and bullshit while telling others what "THEY need to do"

Yawl gonna make me lose my mind, up in here, up in here. Yawl gonna make me act a fool, up in here, up in here. Yeah, some believe America can do without rap music too. To many blacks making money off that mess. That gutter bowl - jelly roll - bump yo booty, don't you know. I don't know, is it me or does America really need black folks?

I think there's a train a comin'. And... that's my opinion.

Keith said...
Hahahahahahaha, Funny, but good points made there. I love this blog because you make me think..Even when I don't want to..Does America really need the Black man?But of course...America would have no rythem without us...no soul...and God knows..America needs a soul.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
It doesn't matter what America needs... GOD said it and it is so!Love ya. To copy off of Keith, you got my brain doing stuff it don't want to do when it's home just chill'n (LOL)Ms. Butterfly

CareyCarey said...
@ Keith ...I tried to keep it light, but it was written to make us think.

freemanpress said...
I think the time when they needed us has long passed and now they don't know what to do. Since the Mexican cats have crossed the borders and taken all the sharecropping jobs we are in the cities. Now never forget taking care of sick people is also a money maker so as long as we remain sick we are a tax base to be exploited.They needed us to do the work they didn't want to do now they need us to be a exploitable people so they can make money. Overall we are not needed but they will never get their own folks to do anything but say they are entitled to the land. Can't grow with someone who feels they don't have to do nothing at all.

CareyCarey said...
Dang Freeman, you've made some very interesting points. Yeah, the only way some feel like they're up is to have others beneath them.

Mizrepresent said...
Well the way these folks are acting up around here...i wouldn't put it past them to give it a try. One friend of mine told me about how gun sales have went up almost 50% in the last couple of months. Somebody out there is stocking up on guns, and from the looks of it, it ain't us.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
Just checking in. Have a great weekend! Love ya crazy, I mean Carey (LOL)Ms. Butterfly

El Nuyorican said...
This shit was funny, but it also made some excellent points. It reminds me of a story, Space Invaders" by Derrick Bell in "Face at the bottom of the Well." In it, aliens come from out of space and promise America all the free fuel they'll ever need and some other shit, but the catch was they had to tuen over all black folk. The story is both funny and very insightful.This post reminded me of that story. I like your stule, bro! LOLEddie

CareyCarey said...
@ Miz ...I've heard similar talk of gun sales increasing. I don't know Miz, I 've seen plenty of brothas get killed AND they had a gun. If you had a gun I doubt it would stop another from killing you.

"But of course...America would have no rhythm without us." What Keith says sounds real...Perhaps every nation, ethnic group or culture finds it rhythm eventually. But without us, it would have taken America so damn long!
.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
Just stopping in to say Hello and wishing you a happy whatever day you happen to check this day!Love and hugsMs. ButterflySending prayers your way!

A Lady's Life said...
Thanks for visiting my post:)I think America(and the world) needs good people. I think you find good and bad in all races, in all countries,in all religions. You can't just clump people and stereotype them. I don't like rap because of the swear words. I don't like women being disrespected by calling them bitches and telling them they need to go down.That is not love. It's not love that is going to last. Women are Mothers and no child likes to hear its Momma being called a bitch. Fathers have to look into the eyes of the babies they create and I know they love them but all children need and Mother and a Father and peace and joy. No child worries about money as much as they worry about not having parents. Money never made much of a difference to me as a child.:) Then the gun issue is disturbing. You know, if there were no customers for the drugs, the business would go away on its own very quietly. Why do people take drugs? There are so many other ways to get a high without it hurting you or anyone else.:)That's what I believe:)

YOU CAN'T TURN A HO INTO A HOUSEWIFE!?

2011-11-23T06:58:00.000-06:00

ADDENDUM: THAT'S NOT TRUE... SOME OF US BREAK AWAY

I threw away all my prophylactics and candy panties, but I've been turned out. Mizrepresents and PPRscribe pimped me. They promised me a cabin in the sky and a Cadillac with a sun roof top, but they only gave me a Jones. They didn't tell me that Heroin had nothing on blogging. I've cooked dinner and cleaned my house but I remain a whore.

I woke up in the middle of the night with cold sweats. I staggered to my refrigerator and poured myself a cool drink. I felt someone standing near. Was it was another john, another hit? No, it was my computer. Like a warm syringe filled with a speed-ball, it winked at me, it blinked at me . I rushed outside and hollered at the moon.

There was no place to hide. I knew I needed to get outside myself, so I went for a walk. The warmth of the day felt real good, but as I glanced up to take a peek at the sun, a pigeon pooped in my eye. I said, "where the hell did that pigeon come from" . I looked to my left and there was a library. It was the pigeon's home and it was calling my name. I found myself peering through the glass windows, looking at the books inside. Like a drunk waiting for the opening of the corner liquor store, my hands started to shake when my eyes spotted a row of computers.

I go to the place where the feeling awaits me, self destruction's in my hands oh lord, so stupid minded, help me, I can't help myself. But I go crazy when I can't find it. I am hooked my friends, to that boy who makes slaves out of men.

That boy called Blogging is a mean thang. Oh believe me, help me somebody! I have to withdrawal from this opiate. It's using me like I am a 2dollar ho, and it's not kissing me in the morning. I have never been a housewife but I am tired of being pimped.

Keith said...
It's like I said in one of my posts last week ("Where's Don"?)A lot of bloggers say they are going into retirement..but they all come back!Glad you didn't make a liar out of me! lololol

PPR_Scribe said...
LOLOL @ CareyCarey! Welcome back.

LoudPen said...
Carey, I should've known you were coming back.
September 29, 2009 7:14 PM

CareyCarey said...
See there, in true drug dealer fashion, you two are saying welcome back and I haven't even returned *lol*.I am just like any true addict that tries to ease his pain by using a substitute in place of his drug of choice. See, I wasn't really blogging, I was crying out for help - I think. But nooooo, Lady Scribe and her partner in crime, Keith Sweat, were standing on the corner pouring salt on my wound. Come to think about it, they say the drug dealers will give you the first one, but nobody told me they'd be back.Yes sir, they were standing right outside my door.But see, they have competition. I visited Maxine today, just to say hello. Well, I had yet to tell the world that I was going through withdrawals, so she too thought I was up and running, but upon rushing to my house (her words) and not finding me at home, she left disappointed. Later that day I went back to her house to see if she'd opened my letter, and she had. My friend Maxine, the poet that she is, was not at home but she left me a short note ....it said, I went by your house BUT ALAS......:-(

CareyCarey said...
Oh Lawd, The LOUDEST PEN EVER, Miss longpen, has joined the round table ....I mean the crap table. I am rolling snake eyes and they say keep playing.

Mizrepresent said...
HAAAAAA! I knew you'd be back...so so does this make me the PUSHAWOMAN! lol! Enjoy! Glad to see you are back!

CareyCarey said...
Well Miz, you said it, not me. You guys are nothing more than a bunch of thugs, hanging out on the corner with your pants saggin'. I need to go to rehab. AND, I am NOT back. Iam just running old posts as I clean my house. You're going to go to jail if you keep hustling drugs. Get off that corner and get a real job *lol*

FreeMan said...
Hey Bruh I just took the summer off and changed the topic but I came back. I think sometimes you just have to walk away and if it comes back to you then it's yours. Oh snap that sounds like some love advice huh?Either way don't get the shakes and have take out Blog Withdrawal on your close friends and loved ones.Keep writing because as you can see you have become part of everyone's life and their normal rotation of their day.

CareyCarey said...
The Compton killer has shown up. Whatsup Freeman. That's a good line "take out blog withdrawal".You hit me with something. I've posted at another place for nearly 10 yrs and I also pulled back from that site. Well, like you and others (at that site)have said, we never know who is lurking/reading. You mentioned people having a rotation in their day. That is so true. Even though I haven't been posting, I still run through my daily spots. You and I have had some nice discussions on motivation, pain, neighborhoods (Thruths blog),debates, confidence etc, and I listened. In this game of blogging I've never really felt confident that my stuff was worth reading. Therefore I didn't find a purpose to continue. Like I said, I could run my mouth for days but what was the purpose. I did use my blog to seek feedback on issues in which I was going to talk about in a different forum/medium, but that was selfish. But if people stop by as a normal flow through their day, like their morning cup of coffee, or their late night bath, I can work with that.

Anonymous said...
LOL @ Mr. Dang Fool 'this ain't for me' Carey. Signed: a 'friend' in L.A.

CareyCarey said...
Lets see, a friend from LA, uummmmm? Well my friend, could you break that down for me. I mean, dang fool, splain dat to me? I get the laughter part, you know hahahah, but .......
But don't make me call you by your real name. *smirk*

And, like I said. This is another love TKO. I am just going through withdrawals.

Taking A Short Walk Back To Another Time

2011-11-21T18:07:00.000-06:00

Michael Jackson & James Brown

2011-11-07T09:34:00.001-06:00

No two men done it better: James Brown & Michael Jackson

LOOK MOM, THERE'S A BLACK MAN ON TV, HE'S DOING THE DONKEY Herman Cain..

2011-10-19T08:33:00.000-05:00

Hermain ~~Cocaine~~ Cain! It's final, now I've seen everything. See, I live in Iowa so I sorta know white folks, but this Hermain ~~Munster~~ Cain is a new Frankenstein. He was in Iowa doing his best slappy white so I had to write about him. He's running for POTUS!

Seriously, I don't do much politics but I turned on my boob tube and that clown was doing the 2011 Buckwheat for president. Really, I couldn't believe my eyes so I set my video recorder. Then, after he was done, I sent the tape to my lab boys and asked them if they could somehow give me back a 3D version. I wanted to see this guy from all angles because something wasn't right. After a week went by my package arrived. There was a note attached... "We slowed this down and noticed Mr Cain had a small mic in his ear and something was protruding from his rear end. We were able to filtered out the words in the small ear piece. They sound like lyrics to a song that some use to get hyped before they go on stage. here they are:

I wish I was in de land ob cotton,
Old times dar am not forgotten;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
In Dixie Land whar I was born in,
Early on one frosty mornin,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

Those lyrics, written in a comic, exaggerated version of African American Vernacular English, tell the story of a freed black slave pining for the plantation of his birth.

Damn, now my curiosity was on high alert. I couldn't wait to see what was running out of his booty hole. I popped in my remastered 3D video and there it was. I couldn't believe my eyes, it was a tail! Yicks, a big black funky looking hairy tail was hidden under his jackass suit. But if you haven't seen this guy or heard his rhetoric, you better hurry because he's a black republican. And we know what they do with them. Yep, they use them up and throw them away like a dirty scummy dishrag.

Aside from the funky mouth monkey man, here's my basic point of contention:

Raise your hands in the air if you just don't care. Or, wave the flag for Ms Palin or any old Mr Charlie & his wife, or any ol'negro?

Let me cut to the chase. Some negros and political blogs should change their names to BootyForSell.

That's right, they should flash a red sign and adorn it with big purple lips - and a big fat booty. You know, them big booty lips that compliment deep ass kissing. But wait, dez some smart negros that may not know the errs of their ways. I mean, they have great writing skills - that most would die for - but many of them ain't talking about a damn thang except what Obama has "allegedly" done wrong. And, Mr Cain was the past CEO of a huge national pizza chain.

Listen, I am a ride or die Obama supporter that....

"HOLD UP CAREY, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO STOP HERO WORSHIPING?"

No, you hold up, and you can miss me with that one. I mean, you should define hero worshiping. I know you may believe that's a clever phrase, but it's nothing more than a tired and trite remark that allows you to run from the truth. Get back to me with your definition of a hero worshiper.

But first, tell me, who would you rather have in office, Obama, or any ol' nondescribt Mr Charlie? I know most of my wayward friends will have a hard time answering that question. Well, since they claim to be supporting Obama's mission, they can't say, "we love Mr Charlie". On the other hand, if they say Mr Charlie, I'd say "give me his name". Who, Herman The Munster Cain... with the funky tail feather, or any pasty face Betty Crocker? Who would be a good replacement? And, since I am referring to smart negros, they wouldn't say anybody except President Obama. I mean, that reply would instantly discredit them. And lord knows what that would do for their egos.

That reminds me, I believe much of the wayward negros whimsical hater-aid (conscience of not) is rooted in an ego that's in grave need of constant stroking. What else could justify their negative rants about our presidents?

"But Carey, we can't give him a pass just because he's black"

Who said anything about a pass you knuckle head? Again, if not Obama than who?! See, some folks wish to run from that question, while they hurl ambiguous quasi- intellectual short burst of nothingness.

Really, that's the big elephant in this house "who would my naysay negro friends chose as a replacement". If you can't stop the elephant, then your house will become very raggedy. And, we all heard what Malcolm said:

"if your kitchen is dirty, your house is dirty"

So, would it be right to invite someone to dinner and feed them Cracker Jacks? Wouldn't that be kind of dirty? Well, inside a box of Cracker Jacks, there's always a surprise. But I am still wondering who they would bring to the table.

Who?... Any ol'cracker-Jack?

Remember, the elephant is still there. He ain't going to disappear because the question is side stepped. Consequently, until the chicken head naysayers can tell me the purpose behind their eloquent dissing of President Obama, I can't help but believe they are unconsciously soothing a soul that needs to sound intelligent. More importantly, they have to know their words are a cheap cloned edition of Mr Charlie's. I wish they would just speak the truth and come out of the closet. I wish they would change their names to Black Booty For Sale: The place of intelligent BIG BOOTY for your Disposal.

"But again carey, we can't give Obama a pass because he is black, we have to make him accounting"

Okay, one mo gin for all the circle jerks. Do you really think you are making him accountable by mimicking the words of his arch rivals?! I mean, really? Do you think you're making him accountable by sitting at home or at a blogspot, with a bunch of negros that acquired their political science degrees on-line or off the 10 o'clock news? I mean, what's accomplished by listening to rants, half-baked solutions, haters and naysayers - huh? Surely that's not making him accountable. That's nothing more than a game of spades or dominoes. Any negro can sit around a table and talk trash. I mean, making him accountable??? Tell me, tell me exactly how you're doing that? I mean, considering the un-focused willy-nilly rhetoric that's the final product of most political discussions, I find it hard to believe it's a package that would make the president accountable. Having said all of that, in the very least; would your words move people toward Obama or move them away from him? Don't duck now, but the BIG ASS ELEPHANT is still in the house. If not Obama than who? Think about it. Play the story to the end.

I know this post will not get me invited to soft music and satin sheets, but as Martin Luther King said,

"Many people fear nothing more terrible than to take a position which stands out sharply and clearly from the prevailing opinion. The tendency of most is to adopt a view that is so ambiguous that it will include everything and so popular that it will include everybody"

So please, don't take this personally, but negro please, let your conscious be your guide.

Hey, if a person cannot truly define what they are receiving from voicing their dis-pleasures of our president, I'd be a fool to engage them in any form of debate or discourse.

I raise my hand. I've been at a place in my life where I didn't know why I blamed others, chided others, pointed fingers, and went to places (mentally and physically) I had no business going.

I would imagine that many people are stuck in that dilemma, and possibly, don't know how to get out. It's very hard to say I was wrong and you were right. However, there's no mistaking the fact that the Herman Cain Thang is a pied piper - donkey - for hire. He's a fool who thinks the name "Republican" will get him in the cabin in the skies of Washington DC. I am not a gambling man, but I'd bet this new jack negro gets fried like a cheap piece of lunchmeat.

Day O, Daaay O, Eli's Comon' And I Should Have Stayed Home: The Book Of Eli... Book'em Dano!

2011-10-07T19:53:00.000-05:00

Hughes Brothers

I work all day till the sun go down. Money short, but I go anyhow. Eight foot, seven foot, tally me banana. Daylight come and I me wanna go home.

When I found out Denzel was in a new movie, I had to get some of that! The Hughes Brothers were the directors. Oh boy! I had to have some of that. The movie, my date, pop & popcorn... could cost me 50 bucks. I got that.

I went to see the movie The Book of Eli. I didn't get it. I mean, I got it, but I want my money back. But wait, outside the theater I asked a woman what she thought of the movie. She said it was awesome, okay. Well, different strokes for different folks but check this. If you like the following, this movie is tailor made for you.

Did you like the movies "Mad Max In The Thunder dome", "Escape From New York", or Martin Scorsese's campy "Kings Of New York? If yes, you'll love The Book of Eli.

How about your taste of unbelievable endings that are totally ridiculous, even by Hollywood standards? If you like being pimp slapped by the director's fat hand, step right up... you'll love The Hughes Brothers.

How about fight scenes, do you love them? Okay, let's crank it up a notch. What if the hero of the movie was able to kill 10 people -- at one time -- while wearing a dark mask, which blocked any chance of him seeing his victims? Hold it, we are not done. What if this same man -- while wearing this same dark mask -- was able to shoot down flying birds? But wait, slow your roll, the good gets better. lets say he was able to do this fantastic feat while using a bow and arrow? Yes, a flying bird, a bow & arrow, and a man wearing a mask... how ya like me now?

I don't know what tickled the fancy of the woman outside the theater, but a movie wouldn't be complete without a religious message, or T & A, blood and guts... right? Well, it's all in the Book Of Eli. Reserve your tickets on-line if that's your cup of tea. Eli has it all. Denzel doesn't remove his clothes in many movies, and he doesn't do it in this one, but loose women are at his beckon call. Yes, if leisurely women ring your bell, this movie is for you. Wait a minute, check that, Denzel does give the women something to talk about. You'll have to use your imagine on this one. What can be sexy about Denzel and KFC wet napkin? I didn't get it either, but some women sucked it up. But don't go to the movie just to see Denzel wipe his behind with a left over Kentucky fried chicken handy-wipe.There's more things to get excited about. Not for me but....

Speaking of love, Al Green appears in this movie. Well, he doesn't, but one of my favorite songs explodes on the scene. Really, I love his version of "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart". See, I'd like to think of myself as a romantic, and when that song came on, they almost had me. Check out these words: --- How can you mend a broken heart / how can a loser ever win/ [tell me] how can you stop / the sun from shinning / what makes the world go round?

Boy oh boy, while listening to that song, I remembered a past lover that is now long gone... I dropped a tear. But like a flash flood, the scene quickly changed. All of a sudden we're a to the back lot of Mad Max -- In The Superdome -- Gone Wild. No expenses were spared for these scenes. They were complete with armor plated 1956 Edsels and rocket launchers. If you like suspense, these scenes will hold you, because Denzel flirts with death. Well, although the house in which he's hiding is blown to shreds by rockets and Gatling guns (yes Gatling guns), Denzel manages to come out unharmed.

I don't want to give away the movie, but if you like epic adventures like Guy Johnson's "Standing At The Scratch Line", you're gonna love Danzel's (Eli) 30 year adventure. Did I say thirty years? Yep, Denzel evades the most notorious pirates, murderers, thieves, scanky women, flesh eating cannibals and an assortment of damn fools, while on this 30 year journey. But if you're not feeling any of this, how about a little religion with your mission impossible?

I am not going to go there, I can't spill all the beans, but another blogger thought it was a propaganda movie. I don't know, but God does work miracles in this movie.

Like I said, movie watching is a very subjective experience. But for me, this movie tore through my soul. Look, I've been riding with Denzel from day one. I've seen all of his movies. Who can deny the brilliance of the Hughes brothers? When they broke-out with Menace II Society, I was theirs for the long haul. I even enjoyed a movie that many didn't see... "From Hell". It was their take on Jack the Ripper. In anticipation of seeing The Book of Eli, I was as giddy as a child on Christmas Eve. Heck, I even bypassed my bootleg man to watch it at a real theater. I guess Santa must have checked my list. He must have found out that I've been naughty... not nice. I was left with a black piece of coal.

Like "Precious", this movie had a great supporting cast. You can't go wrong with a cast of pretty women and Gary Oldman. Who can forget his role as the white skinned Rastafarian pimp, Drexl Spivey, in the movie "True Romance"? But see, I am still wondering how his character, Carnegie, was able to maintain his power over a ruthless town of renegades? Maybe it was his secret water supply? Well, since an atomic blast totally scorched the earth, food and water were at a minimum. Devious Carnegie sold water by the shot glass. But see, I don't know if the town folks were complete idiots, or if the director thought I was, but come to find out, water was a few miles down the road. Salty, but nevertheless, water.

I don't know what the Hughes brothers were trying to do. I saw a little of Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof and Robert Rodriguez's "From Dusk Till Dawn". Oh, and a little Moses thrown in for the religious crowd.

They said Eli is coming. I hope he gets here real soon because he has my money in his pocket, and I want it back.

Day O, daaay O, daylight comin' and I should have stayed home.

The Book of Eli... Book'em Dano. TEN TOES way down for this one.

~CareyCarey

HOLY MACKEREL: THEY WERE MUCH MORE THAN COONS!

2011-10-04T14:01:00.000-05:00

Okay, so my lips are big and my head is long, but who are you calling a coon?

Look at me, I am as helpless as a kitten in a tree. I feel like I am hanging on a cloud. Well, I realize you can't see me but I am hyped today. I am pumped, I am stoked, I can't control my emotions, and I'll tell you why.

If the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does that mean I am forever linked to the DNA of my biological family? Does it also mean I am a product of my environment? If all that be true, Holy Mackerel..... I'm in trouble. But I am too much in love with my family to sweat the small stuff.

Did I mentioned that I was dripping with anticipation. In laymen terms, that means I might go on another long journey. If you'd like to come along, I am going to visit a family friend.

My family has spread it's wings in on array of social and economical playing fields. Today I am going to stop by the house of my uncle Kingfish. He has past away. Some of you may know him. His real name is Tim. He is the brother of my grandfather. He played the part of George Stevens, aka Kingfish, on the early television series Amos & Andy. Yes, that's my family tree. He was raised in the same small town that I once called home. This is not a story of family barbecues, nor a tale of bedside chats. This is a story of messages from the past.

I have a collection of the old program that I've shared with my children. Many talking heads have vilified the series as coonery at it's worst. They harped to the extent that it was banned from television. Some of those bobbing head negroes that have a propensity to look through the blues eye of other cultures, seem to have forgotten their past. But let me move forward.

How about these lyric, lets see if they ring a bell.... Temporary layoff/ good times/ easy credit ripoff/ good times/ ain't we lucky we got them/ GOOD TIMES!

WTH? What's good about easy credit ripoff! Did I hear a subliminal message?

How about this one: Beans don't burn in the Kitchen {no mo'}/ grits don't burn on the grill {no mo'}/ took a whole lot of crying/ just to get up that hill {what hill?}/ Now we up in the big league {what league?}/ took our our turn at bat/ it's you and me baby/ and ain't nothing wrong with that/..... We MOVIN' ON UP.

Hold up, wait one minute, don't go anywhere. What the hell was "that"? I mean, to start with, George Jefferson was Archie Bunker's special kind of fool. Sure, George was given a bone by being allowed to say "HONKY HONKY HONKY". But what businessman runs around doing the slop and yelling honky? Give me a freakin' break. George Jefferson made Kingfish look like a choir boy. And, what's this "movin' on up" thang? I mean, the brotha had 2 cleaners on the south side of Chicago. Do I hear a few more subliminal Messages? Lets move on down the road.

The last time I checked, I didn't see any of the following "themes" in the Amos & Andy series, and I've seen all of them.

I didn't see homosexuality, drug use or gun play. In an episode called "Kingfish finds his fortune", Amos and Kingfish had a argument. They squared off to fight. They waltzed around a table for about 30 second until both got so tired - they sat down. Oh the horror of it all. I shake with fear when I even think about that kind of violence.

I never saw wife swapping or domestic violence in that series. I am yet to see one black person call another black person N**ga. I know I didn't see grown men salivating over the buttock of underage girls. Lord knows I didn't see any images of a grown man dressed in drag.

WAIT! Did you hear that? Shhhhhush, listen, be quiet, I believe Tyler Perry has walked into the room ?

Opps, can we go there? Can we walk down his street? Why not, lets go. But, maybe we should first ask those that said Amos & Andy sent out destructive messages, to see if it's alright. Maybe we should ask them to define racism. Maybe we should see if they have pictures of their uncle Toms cabin. Come to think of it, I am not going to waste my time dissecting the blatant sewer bowl of the wonderful world of Tyler Perry films. Well, not until those same aforementioned bobbin' head Uncle Toms & Tomettes compare them to the Amos & Andy series.

Although Kingfish could be considered a huckster, and a con man, he didn't sell dope and he didn't steal from his fellow man. Nor did he cheat on his wife. Usually he paid for his misdeeds, and there were messages of redemption. Speaking of his wife, she wasn't Hattie McDaniels or Butterfly McQueen, and we all have images of their mammy ways. They are indelibly carved in our brain. Can anyone say mammy rags and ultra passivity? Mrs. Stevens role was unlike many roles given to our present queens of beauty. Who can forget the role given to Halle Barry in Monsters Ball? Can anyone say "flip flop whore". Kingfish's wife and mother-in-law were decent hard working black women. Without Sapphire, Kingfish may have been a lost man.

Today I am thinking about my family and our first black president and the road that got us here. A part of me was a pioneer of black consciousness - one of the first black faces on television. A part of me is the first black face to lead the USA into a new world. Being first can be a thankless position.

Depending on who's writing history, "first" can be erased from history, and replaced by the banter of it's supposed ill effects. Slavery seeps into my mind. A silent and lazy mind can be convinced that new is better than old, or "old" is not worth talking about. Without a first, there can never be a second.

When I go down memory lane with my children, I suggest they seek the good and leave the bad behind. I believe it's important for all people to champion those that have gone before them. At least seek first to understand. Knowledge is king, without such, a person is left to the whims and opinions of another person, who may not have their best interest at heart.

My uncle's house is no longer there. A Martin Luther King Center sits in it's place. The home is gone and so is my uncle, but his memory is alive. It's in me.

Take a peek behind me. Is it dark back there? You'll have to tell me because I am not looking for the bad stuff.

What's in your tree? I've heard it said that if a person doesn't stand for something, they will fall for anything. Holy Mackerel!

Excuse Me While I Flip My Thang.

2011-10-03T12:59:00.000-05:00

Could I have your ear if I wore pink panties? Would you hug me like you loved me, if I dressed in drag? Would you laugh with me and not at me? I gotta know because I ‘ve lost that loving feeling.

Listen, I've seen men get it on in the blogsphere. Short of calling each others mothers a stankin ho, I’ve witness men have furious debates in the blog world. But you know what, they very seldom stay entrenched in their madness. I mean, they only stay in their toughness for a short period. Really, I’ve actually seen men thank each other for the check down. That seldom happens among women. Are you kidding me, women will write "I hate her" in their wills. C'mon, women will hate a friend for getting along with somebody THEY hate.

But you know what, this blog world is a wonderful place. I’ve met people that I wouldn’t have if I didn’t build my house in the blogsphere. Well, if we did meet on the street, we probably wouldn’t have continued our friendship, because at first sight..... things weren’t right.

In this computer world, I drop my pants in two neighborhoods. I have some old friends back in my old neighborhood and I have some new friends in this place called blogsphere. Today I am going to bring them together because I need them all. Bare with me because this post is sorta long.

Hold on, here we go.

At my old site I said, "Harriet Tubman couldn’t shine Oprah’s shoes".

Oh lord, Bookman (house manager) said, "Wow Carey your reaction to Harriett Tubman was too disturbing to even reply to. In all seriousness I'm surprised at you. Just suffice it to say that celebrity and money are not indicators of greatness. It is this type of thinking that has us worshiping rappers, drug kingpins and basketball stars".

Bookman made several more statements to support his view, however, I don’t know what he meant by "Carey, your reaction was too disturbing", but I told him to stop playing the violin and stop being so damn politically correct. I can't stand pretentious negroes who use the most stupid analogies to support their opinions

.
See, I have a feeling that it’s blasphemy to mention any of our championed pioneers in any sort of negative light. Although my statement was a cliche - of sorts - I think I traveled on some type of sacred ground.

I mean, so Harriet Tubman lead a bunch of slaves to freedom..... And? Yeah, we got that.... And?

Well, I have two friends, Yvettep and ABM, who yesterday, went someplace. Yvettep is always very reserved in her comments. She and ABM have had several marvelous debates. Their tones speaks of a mutual respect. They are both wordsmiths that can debate with the best of them. Yesterday I said Oprah was the greatest. Yvettep said, "We'll only know if Winfrey could be counted as among the "greatest" if people still know her name a hundred years after her death"

ABM came back with "So then we have to wait another 60 years to determine whether Dr. Martin Luther King Jr deserves to be considered one of our "greatest" people?"

Huuummm, that was a pretty good retort. Now I am sitting here wondering what those statements meant. Well, to be honest, I don’t believe time has anything to do with it. Can I say "tell a nigg*r, telephone"? Sure I can and most of you know what I mean.

Look, they will be talking about Hitler to the end of time. But the substance of what they’ll be saying is the trump card. If we move away from Oprah’s TV personality, and focus on her accomplishments I believe her name will be on the lips of many for years to come. For real, if we mention Harriet Tubman’s name, what’s the first likely response? It’s probably going to be something about a slave. Now, don't look now, but after slave talk hits the floor, the powers to be has some Negroes right where they want them. As long as he keeps them talking about slaves and collard greens, he’s comfortable. The mind set of a slave is hard to arrest.

"Yes sir boss hog, let those darkies talk about how we had our foot way up their ni*gas ass". Yeah, talk-talk-talk about the past.Talking about the past keeps us from looking forward. Sure, we don’t want to forget the past but we can’t continue to focus on the past.

If Opray Winfrey's accomplishments are not talked about in the future, that’s because the tell-a-nig*a-telephone was too busy taking about the underground railroad and who's sleeping with who. Oh please lord, don’t tell the children how Oprah was a role model for millions of children. Forget about that, tell them about the slave route. Don’t tell the children how Oprah inspired black woman to reach for the highest ring. A ring that in the past was unreachable. Oh no, tell them about the tools the slaves used on their way to freedom. Don’t tell them that Negroes been free for nearly 150 yrs. On no, don’t tell our new generation how Oprah champions issues that have never been seen on television. Are you kidding me, tell them about the old Harriet Tubman, you know, that underground railroad woman. Forget about how influential Oprah has been in the election process. Don’t pass that forward. In fact don’t pass up Oprah’s money but let’s throw it in her face like it’s a curse. Why talk about Oprah donating huge money to needed causes? Oh no, just because she’s given more of her money than any other black woman in the history of America, that shouldn’t be a thing to mention to our young ones. They might ask "HOW DID SHE GET THAT MONEY?". Are you kidding me, instead, let’s talk about how she’s never been married. Instead, let’s talk about Harriet Tubman and her daughter... Ooops.

I mean, for real, the future is now. Shouldn’t we be talking about our future- right now? Or should we stain our leaders. That’s right, we should be talking about slave quarters that sit on the edge of the Mississippi River. Oh lord, Harriet Tubman risked her life. Okay, next.

Can we talk about inspiration? Inspiration is like a spare tire in the trunk of a car. If you don’t have a key to that trunk, it’s going to be hard to use that tire. Oprah is a tire that’s out of the trunk. She's tried and true. She's been down the road of hard knocks. Our youth can see her and feel her and use her. Really, what can our youth get from Harriet Tubman? Please don’t talk about a lesson on perseverance. Our youth witness struggles every damn day. They will best be served by seeing and learning from our present day struggles. They can best be served by seeing solutions at work.

Throughout this whole debate, many wish to pick at small areas of Oprah’s life, and pick and poke and use it to call her names. For some reason they conveniently cannot remember all the good she’s done. One person even said something about one segment of her show, as if that defined who she is. Some say they are not haters but ask the naysayers of Oprah’s accomplishments and they’ll feign ignorance. Don’t believe me, try it, see how you like it. Ask that same person about Harriet Tubman and they’ll probably say something about slaves and the underground railroad. Yeah, tell me something new.

Tell-a-nigga-telephone is a dangerous thang in the hands of those that feel more comfortable swimming in the pool of popular opinion. Bookman said the only thing he likes about Oprah is the fact that she helped him sell books.... WTF! He couldn’t even see through his hate that Oprah’s words and her major influence has been a major tool in the advancement of people of color. I wonder if Oprah has been instrumental in the live of our school children? Do I hear books? Do I hear role model? Isn't knowledge king? Oprah's voice commands respect. A respect that has never been seen on the shores of America.

But many will continue to say the old slave runner was the greatest.

My position stands and I am yet to see any valid arguments that highlights any woman greater than Oprah. If there is one, lets count the ways.... Please! Please, tell-a-nigg*! I want to see YOUR champion, not Oprah’s laundry. I bet those that oppose Oprah cannot qualify their contender without trying to tear Oprah down. Come on!

Wait a minute, I am going to dress in drag.

Really, when the moments right, it’s Brotha CareyCarey on the low down. I ain’t trying to be all funny nor sissified, I’m just trying to knockdown barriers to communication. I’m going to flip my thang like Tyler Perry and Flip Wilson. Women adore men in drag. I’m just trying to get my come-up and bend a few ears.

Y'all will see me coming, I’ll be very apologetic in my comments. You know, I don't want to intimated the new negro crowd. I’ll even agree to some mess that I know damn well is way outta bounds, or I’ll be real quiet. I’ll even hate on a brotha if he even thinks about mentioning a woman’s body part and what he wants to do with it. Yeah, those sexist bast*rds. Yes sir, we're all going to get along just fine. I know how to flip the script... "Let one of those punk ass nig*as come by my sista girl’s blogs and fix his mouth to say Bi*ch". I’m going to pull down my panties and slap him with my Johnson"

I bet you think I am kidding? Sh*t...... watch me work. In fact, call me Careyella and then come on with the come on. Make my funk the P-FUNK, I gots to get funked up. But don’t attack me. Attack the post. I am just a man on the slow drag, flippin' my thang so we all can get along.

WHY ALL THE HATE ON OPRAH AND TYLER PERRY?

2011-10-03T11:54:00.000-05:00

You might not like her Stead-man or her BFF Gail, but you can't deny the truth. Oprah has given voice to more intelligent and artistic people of color than any person on this earth. That list numbers in the thousands. From black politicians , black authors, black musical geniuses, black business owners, heads of foreign states, prominent black lawyers, doctors, chief cooks and bottle washers, Oprah has been the driving force in exposing them to the world, which opens a door for more to follow. Oh, should I mention her unmatched effort to highlight the ever- present struggles of the black female. Not to mention her nearly 1/2 billion dollars she's given to the needy.

Addendum: If you're visiting from S & A or RiPPa's blog, the Tyler Perry Post follows this one.

Thanks for stopping by.

Look, you may not like Oprah because of her fortune and fame, and you may not like her interviewing style, and I understand that, however, does that diminish her overall accomplishments? Well, I'm just asking because I know it does not. I also know some people are constitutionally incapable of seeing the truth, even when it smacks them in their face. And again, the truth does not lie.

Listen, so many times and so many ways, I've said Oprah Winfrey is probably the greatest black woman that has ever walked this earth. I say that because "great" is reserved for those that far exceed the accomplishments of others and spreads their "wealth" and "knowledge" along the way. Greatness is reserved for those that break through the glass ceiling and then puts that ceiling in the basement. Greatness is reserved for those that have the courage and wisdom to withstand attacks from the front & the back, from the rich & the poor, from BLACKS & WHITES. Great is reaching back to give back. Greatness is reaching back to a land that most blacks could call home. Some call it the motherland.

Although money is not the road to happiness, it's great that Oprah has given hundreds of millions of her dollars to causes that nobody else dared to attack or even mention. Great is a person that can win the approval of others in spite of their skin color. Oprah stands alone in her greatness. Although many women have done great things, those accomplishments pale in comparison to those of Oprah Winfrey's. You may not agree, but please tell me why?

One can not deny that her greatness extends beyond the boarders of America. Oprah is the GREATEST of them all. There are no challengers to her crown. Not yet anyway.

So please, why is it when one of our own reaches a place of comfort and success, so many POC hate them? Oprah is a fantastic role model for all our black children. Granted, there may be small titty-bits (yes, I said "titty"-bits) of personal indifference's one may have with Oprah, but in no way does that diminish her accomplishments. Some folks are just too busy smelling their own upper lip.

WHY? Well, I'll tell you why....

Because of the color of their skin. Some blacks folks are so envious, slothful, wrathful and jealous, that they'd kill themselves before they'd give another black person their proper due.

Do I hear a ball of confusion?

Run, run, run, but you sho' can't hide

An eye for an eye

A tooth for a tooth

Vote for me, and I'll set you free

Rap on brother, rap on

Well, the only person talkin Bout love thy brother is the preacher

And it seems, nobody is interested in learnin' but the teacher

Segregation, determination, demonstration, integration, aggravation, humiliation, obligation to our nation

Ball of Confusion

That's what the world is today

The sale of pills are at an all time high

Young folks walk around with their heads in the sky

Cities aflame in the summer time and the beat goes on

Air pollution, revolution, gun control, sound of soul

Shootin' rockets to the moon

Kids growin' up too soon

Politicians say more taxes will solve everything, and the band played on

So round 'n' round 'n' round we go, where the world's headed, nobody knows

Just a Ball of Confusion

Oh yea, that's what the world is today

Fear in the air, tension everywhere

And the band played on.

In short, why all the hate on Tyler Perry and Oprah Winfrey? Really, specifically, what's your beef with Oprah? Why can't we champion the good and leave the hate behind? You tell me because I don't know.

And while you're at it, read the following post on Tyelr Perry's "For Colored Girls". I am not done yet.

Sample: OMG!!!! Some negros have become embarrassingly ridiculous. Black directors make movies they feel are relevant to their personal agendas and those of their targeted audience (which is generally black). White people have nothing to do with it. Negroes need to move past their paranoiac race fantasies of persecution and see reality for it is. The Negroes who were upset about Chris Rocks movie were embarrassed that non-whites would now know the astringent details of the difficulty of grooming and managing black hair (as if they didn’t already know!). Outside of the deep rooted shame and self loathing of their natural hair, there is no sane reason for Negroes to protest such movies as Good Hair, Precious and FCG. I personally heard two black women bitterly complain the Rock had “exposed black women’s secrets” (I know…I know, as pathetic as that sounds -I actually heard them say it!). Same can be said for the movie Precious. It was a hard core gritty story about a young black woman’s tragic life. All the trappings and characters in the movie are real and black America is filled with legions of Negroes who are carbon copies of every single character in the movie. So why all the histrionics and temper tantrums about situations, behavior and characters that are pandemic in black America? Makes no sense…….

LOOKING OVER THE WALL: I can't go back there!

2011-10-02T15:25:00.000-05:00

Several years ago, when I first started participating in Internet discussions, I was lost. I had a distorted image of happiness. Well, maybe not lost, but certainly adrift. I am reminded of those guys in the movies, you know, the starving castaway on a makeshift raft, peering over the tops of waves, looking for land, and just living on hope. Yet, somewhere deep inside, I couldn’t give up.

Today I have a motto “What About A Time Called Now”. It’s here and now, in the moments of creating and expressing my thoughts, where I feel the most at ease and confident. In many ways, it’s always felt just right, and it’s always brought me a rush of emotions, most of them the best I’ve ever known.

Now the downside of it is, there’s always some jerk who stands in judgment of what you do. The harshest criticism always seems to come from those that truly have no idea what you’re doing, and truly has no gift of their own. And are just plain pissed off that you’re happy and happily plying your craft. That is of course, if you’re making the world a little more ugly, then that type of personality, will gladly hold your hand and dance through the stankin muck filled sewer, proclaiming that you, just like they, see only how awful it all is, but take pleasure in the celebration of it. But somewhere along my journey, I came to understand that any D- minus person can see how terrible things are. That didn’t take any skills.

If a person wishes to be a full time cynic, that’s their very unfortunate choice. They are sometimes right, and romantics are generally wrong, but a romantic needs to be right only one time in their life, and that’s when they find something or someone they truly love.
I guess love is what this post is really all about. I know it’s not common for a dude to write about love, and maybe it would be best served if that’s all I said, but then you wouldn’t get the full flavor of my thoughts and me, and that would be unfair to both of us.

Through my blog, I try to produce something that makes people feel. Feelings are the enemy of the lazy, blind followers and the so called elite. You can’t be smarter than them or do things different than them, or have more courage to express your thoughts, or they will crucify you. The common man and the common blogger, has been removed from the process, and why, the common man has a conscience. He has little time for BS. The common man can spot BS ten miles away, and that’s why there’s a small place for him.

However, having said that, I’ve come to believe that a journey shared with whomever, is more deeply moving an experience than a journey taken alone. Human beings need validation, that’s how we learn. I might say or feel something that’s not clear to me, others will say something similar, and then it’s heads straight ahead. Art, in all it’s forms, that is shared, is part of the feeling process. When there’s no feelings, there’s no statement. Where there’s no statement, there’s no sharing. When there’s no sharing, there’s no beauty. When there’s no beauty, there’s no art, and consequently, there is no love.

When I see beauty everywhere and in everything, my soul is set free. No one can take that from me. Then I am free to love and express my feelings and emotions, in a way that might seem strange or different to others.

In short, I’ve been places that I never wish to return to. Not just a place on the map, but in my heart and in my mind, people and places, and common opinions, there are certain things that I can no longer afford to embrace. Again, my motto.... What About A time Called Now!

Thanks for reading my reflections of today. I’m out.

On a side note, the following video fits the theme of this post. See if you can feel the connection. Well, for me, it's about removing the constraints of my past and the opinions of others that I do not respect. When I am free to be me, I'm in a great place.

Can I Have Some? I need some of that! I will be gentle.

2011-09-25T14:00:00.000-05:00

One child grows up to be
Somebody that just loves to learn
Another child grows up to be
Somebody we just love to burn

"Carey, what I've been learning on blogs like yours and Kit's is that people benefit from us sharing that hard stuff. It's not easy to share, but it makes me feel good to know other people relate and appreciate it" - Ms Ashley Smith

Why is it hard to share the hard stuff, and why do people appreciate [it]?

I have a brother that's deep in a storm. Well, he was duel addicted to crack and heroin. To some degree he still is. See, someone had this great idea to give addicts a synthetic drug that has the same narcotic effect of heroin, and thus, champion the addict as cured. Not cured but "better".

Okay, better, what does that mean?

If I give a mother of 4 children, 600 dollars, and then tell her she can sit on her fat ass and do nothing, is she better? She didn't have any money to start with, so is she better? Better at what, better how?!

In the case of my brother, lets talk about the real thang. Now that he's getting his "approved" drug from an "approved" dealer, is he really better? Better at what, better how?!

Now he HAS to take a drug that is 10 times stronger than heroin (Every day of rest of his life). And regardless of what the drug company says, I am here to tell you that his new drug is an opiate, just like heroin. It's users nod, scratch, and medicate their souls. In short, they get high high high, and don't let nobody tell you differently. The drug is called Methadone. We call it Gorilla Juice. If a person had a monkey on their back, once they start taking Methadone, they then have a gray back gorilla on their ass. I've been through a storm but I've never taken Methadone. Well, not legally.

My brother is better, but he is still the same immature person that he's always been. He's insecure and afraid of his emotion. If you ask him, he would tell you he wasn't really an addict. He conveniently forgets that he's the same person that literally sold the shoes off his feet to get high. He forgets that he's the same person that sold all his families Christmas gift - to get high. He conveniently forgets that day a man knocked on his door to take possession of his wife's car that he sold to a dope dealer - without her consent and/or knowledge. He once told our mother that he had cancer, so he could bilk her out of her money. Yep, he's still basically the same guy, but now he's drinking Methadone. I've come to believe it allows him to stay in his comfort zone. No growth can be found while living with a child's mind.

When I question him on why he consistently runs from the hard "stuff" - like growing up, and being a responsible man - he says he's not ready for that. He said he has to wait until his new drug settles in to hold him down. He's been waiting for 3 years! Yet, ever morning he gets up, leaves his home and drives several miles to sign in for his legalized fix. The begging question is... WHY? Why are we all of afraid of the hard stuff?

A women that I see on a regular basis has a daughter that's a lesbian. Upon first hearing about her daughter, she was hurt. She didn't know anything about lesbians. She only knew what others said about them. Of course, much of what she heard was rooted in ignorance. She thought she had done something wrong. Yet, through a little pain, knowledge and a lot of prayer, she's now very comfortable with her daughter's lifestyle. In fact, her daughter, that once was married to a man, is soon to be married to a woman. And check this, they got my dumb ass up in the wedding. Yep, not only am I in the wedding, I'm the MC at the reception. It's a family affair.

The hard stuff: Why is it so hard to let it go?
Mom loves the both of them
You see it's in the blood
Both kids are good to mom
blood's thicker than the mud, it's a family affair

You can't leave 'cause your heart is there
Sure you can't stay 'cause you been somewhere else
You can't cry 'cause you'll look broke down
But you're cryin anyway 'cause you're all broke down

It's A Family Affair - Sly Stone

I need some love. Can I get some of that? I don't mind the hard stuff. What about you?

Well, the questions and answers to this post can be found in the comment section. Yes sir, there's a few fights going on. Join in if you don't mind the hard stuff.

The Wizard, STARRING PRESIDENT OBAMA AND TUDOR TURTLE

2011-09-25T04:05:00.000-05:00

There was an American animated television series featuring Tooter Turtle and The Wizard. Mr. Wizard lived in a tiny cardboard box at the base of a tall tree (something like The White House). Tooter would knock on the cardboard box, to ask another favor. From inside the box, Mr. Wizard would shrink Tooter small enough to enter through the box's front door, and eagerly invite him in. Mr. Wizard has the magic to change Tooter's life to some other destiny, usually sending him back in time and to various locales. Since none of Tooter's alternate lives ever worked out, the moral of each segment was always the same: "Be satisfied with your lot."

When Tooter's trip finally became a catastrophe, he always called out the same thing, "Help me, Mr. Wizard!" Mr. Wizard would rescue him with the incantation, "Drizzle, drazzle, druzzle, drome; time for zis one to come home." Then, Mr. Wizard would always give Tooter the same advice: "Be just vhat you is, not vhat you is not. Folks vhat do zis are ze happiest lot." Tooter never learned, though.

Now enters the New Wizard And a few Tudor Turtles: Find the messages in the following sagas. Remember... be what you is and not what you not, those that do that, are the happiest lot.

********************************THE NEW WIZARD********************************

The New Wizard (President Obama) says: "I am granting wishes today, so who will be the first turtle to find their destiny?"

The horse mouth Harvey says: "Hey prez, since I am the love doctor, I want to be the president of The United States. I want to spread love and unity to get this country back on the right path"

The new wizard: First, didn't you read those letters on my suit? Recognize that I am the Wizard and the HNIC and the president, so act like you have some damn sense and address me with respect. My name is Mr. President. But listen, asking you for advice on love, is like asking Jack The Ripper for a band-aid. Yes, he's going to produce a band-aid, and cut your damn throat at the same time. What would your past nine wives have to say about you being the love doctor? Yep, you cut them deep and low. However, now you want to be the president? Okay... **POOF**

The little turtle that wanted to be the president was off to spread love.as the new president. His first stop: All the black folks of the US. After a very short period, he didn't want to be the president any more.

The horse mouth turtle: "Help me, Mr. Wizard! They are killing me"

The Wizard: "Drizzle, drazzle, druzzle, drome; time for zis one to come home. Boy, didn't I tell you to be what you is, and not what you are not? You must have discovered a few disadvantages of being the president. First, love don't love nobody - huh? I also saw your HBO special "quit trippin, God ain't done with me yet". Consequently, in spite of your new found faith, I bet some people would not let you forget your past. I can assume they mentioned your education, your momma, and your daddy and your wife. And, your vernacular was probably "too black" for some. Some folks even said you were too rich to understand their problems. I bet some people even took shots at your religion. Yep, I've heard all those cries. Love is a funny thing, and cynics will never find love, no matter how hard you try. So, tie your horse to a wagon, and let me do my job. Who's next?

The Hammer: "You have not touch this, Mr. Wizard. I mean, what about us black folks? You have not stood up for our personal needs, so I want to be president so I can to show the world how a natural black man gets the job done. And remember, you can't touch this.

The Wizard: "First, I wouldn't want to touch that! But, wasn't you the guy that had millions of dollars before you decided to participate in the negro side-walk show? You know, showing everybody how black you were by buying cabins in the sky, and having a large entourage of black groupies? Not to mention your choice of clothes. Gosh, that must be a black thang. Besides, although I admire your ability to rise from being George Steinberger's bat boy, you failed to look at the big picture. You listen to those that said me me me, and lost your spot, and now you're just the proud black hammer, that had a reality show. But, if you want to be the president... **POOF**... Go touch that!"

The proud black hammer was off to show the world how to represent the black voice. Every issue that involved a black person, his intent was to throw caution to the wind. He had decided to tell the world to let his people go. However, he soon was crying worst than Keith Sweat, Jimmy Swaggard and Arsenio Hall in Harlem nights.

The Black Hammer: "Lawd help me. Help me Mr. Wizard. These folks are hanging me!"

The Wizard: "Drizzle, drazzle, druzzle, drome; time for this boy to come home. So hammer, you were going to get your black stride on -huh! Well, they talked about your momma like she was a 10 dollar ho, with a 2 dollar p**** and a rubber a**hole. Yep, I've been there because my mother is white. Our issues are not exactly the same, but my blues is just like yours. And, I bet you didn't know I could cus? Nigga please, don't let that Harvard degree fool you. I was born and raised in the Brier Patch. You know I was ostracised for much of my life. In Hawaii, they have a special name for our type.

Anyway, they said you were too rich to relate to their problems, even though you are a black man. But I see you tried to broach the subject of racism. Well, that's when they really brought out the hanging rope. When you said that police officer (in the Skip Gates case) acted stupidly, some folks said you were stepping outside the boundaries of the presidency. And other folks said you should have never invited that man to the white house. On all the "black issues" you had clowns on the left of you, and jokers on the right. Some people said you were giving preferential treatment to black people.

You said "you can't touch this". Now they are calling you Can't-Get-Right. Even your supposed allies, white and black, said we are all just Americans... blind of color. But, when you said black, some folks jumped back. When you said "Americans" some negros cried... what about us?

So do your thang hammer time, but be what you is and not what you's not, leave the driving to me, or you could get knocked-out. Who's next?"

Chris Rock: Hold up Mr. Wizard, I mean Mr. President, I ain't trying to be nobodies fool and nobodies president. I've been there and done that. I mean, I was the star of the movie Head Of State, so I know what you're going through. Look at my teeth, I think they put something in my water, and I couldn't trust anyone. They used the guilt by association trick, and the divide and conquer ploy. They solicited influential black businesses and black politician to sway the minds of those that are natural cynics and born again haters. Even some of my so called supporters berated me when I spoke to my friends, or went to places that didn't meet their approval. You know, just like when you visited The View. Also, in the movie, my brother was Bernie Mac, which caused an uproar because of his occupation. I couldn't get a break. I know you've been there.

I love you man. You have been the best role model for my children (and any person of color) that a black man could ask for. You've shown millions of black childrens how to overcome adversity and the sky is the limit. So, I am not going to be foolish enough to believe I know more than you. So you can drizzle your drazzle and druzzle your drome, but I am already home. I am a black man in America, and I know what that means.

The President: "Stop it Chris, you're going to make me cry. Bring your kids by my house. Lets sit down and have a beer.

I don't believe there is a truly "thinking" man or woman who could legitimately claim or believe the request to "watch the motive of others" regarding the public flogging of a President can compare to what some would call "hero worship", and/or compare the request to the blind devotion some folks have demonstrated in regards to Kwame Kilpatrick and Marion Berry.

The same folks who had the audacity to offer that half-ass video of Shirley Sherrod are still out there, on the case, in their war rooms, plotting and strategizing. In fact, they have always been on the case, for their team! It's time for us to think, stay focused and understand what is going on and what the stakes are and always have been.

Choose a team! And remember what our ancestors knew, "It was never just a game!" Just cause some folks say it's only "politics" doesn't mean it is!

What will they say when our troops are brought home from Iraq? In the end, move with caution and don't be nobodies fool"
There was an American animated television series featuring Tooter Turtle and The Wizard. The Wizard lived in a tiny cardboard box at the base of a tall tree (something like The White House).

BigmacInPittsburgh Took me a second or two to get it but good post! Trying to get some of the arm chair critics to be understanding of their criticism is like hitting your head upon a brick wall. Most of those critics you speak of have not a clue of the real world. Most will believe everything the media throws at them without asking the most important question. WHY am I being told this or that!

Carey: Most of my posts are about mistakes I've made. It's been my hope that others may learn from my journey and possibly see themselves in me. See, I've been a zip fool. To change, I first had to accept that and then find those qualities that might keep me back there.Without rationalizations or excuses.... my hand is raised.

Mizrepresent: lmao, okay Carey/Carey, i'm no fool, at least by definition...but i have been played the fool, many times...but love, what was this post about?

CareyCarey: "but love, what was this post about?" Miz, I am glad you asked. Since you've been reading my stuff (8 years) long before I considered myself a blogger, you know it takes me awhile to get to my point. Yes, I like to tell little stories along the way. On the surface, this post was about being a fool (who's really the fool). Underneath that, it was about holding up a mirror. A mirror to our souls/behavior. Although the fool has many qualities, they're exhibited in many forms. I use my blog to see how people will respond in face to face encounters. Even though people can hide behind a screen, human behavior seldom changes. In my "day job" I encounter people that are resistant to change and the blogsphere is no different. So,again, "what was this post about"? It was about me trying to find a common theme in those that rationalize their wrongdoings. I use those messages. It helps me prepare a rational analysis, so that I can use that information to maybe suggest an error in "their/my" judgement/thinking pattern. I know no one wants to be a fool, so I was listening to how they classified/rationalized their foolishness. However, I agree with everyone, being a die hard fool depends on how often a person engages in foolishness.... in ALL it's glory. On a side note, you know I've been telling my life story for many years. This blog is an extension of that.

Keith: Ahem- I think that Fat Lady decided to go to the bathroom.

Big Mark 243 For those who support him, they find comfort in that. For those who irrationaly hate on him, well I did say it was irrational, their hate.

KevinsTeeTee: Yes yes it is I (Nicki-Nik) I've been away all weekend (got my Disneyland and Michael Jackson on) so I hadn't had time to comment on this post. Yes we've all played the fool as some point in our lives and best believe you'll probably play one again because that's just how life works. The difference being that with life comes experience so the number of foolish encounters should (assuming you learned your lesson because you know some people are Darwin award recipients) diminish. I'm sure this post is more geared towards the individuals who appear to argue for the sake of doing so without any rhyme or reason. And I've come across those who just have to be right even if it means compromising themselves long term from people wanting to converse with them. And maybe they don't mind the isolation since their polarized views would create such a situation. Or maybe they'll find people who think like them (e.g. think Rush Simp-baugh) and grab a soap box and start preaching their brand of 'truth' to those who are already in that realm of thinking...

Maxinr said: Is there really such thing as a 'person who knows no sorrow?' Being foolish sounds like it might lighten a lot of burdens :)

FreeMan: Well if someone is a fool full time then they have a real problem but most cats on a blog have been a fool. I know I have plenty of times but sometimes I can't lie I'm having fun frustrating people. Sometimes I lose my way but once a conscientious objector steps in via email or just saying hey Man Stop, I can stop!I have been FOOLISH but have only dabbled in it, not long enough for one to draw a conclusion on the MAN speaking. I have been a drive by fool on plenty of occasions but if someone doubles back I stopped.

IT LOOKS LIKE ANOTHER LOVE TKO: Baby, I can't do this no more.

2011-09-22T17:02:00.000-05:00

The most dominate factors to my growth have come via my journey through love and pain. Those rewards did not come from the love of others. It was more about my ability to recover the love -- I lost -- for myself.

This post was inspired by:

Kit, http://keepittrill.blogspot.com/
A Smith, http://blackdiamond2008.blogspot.com/
Mizrepresents http://readingwritingblogging.blogspot.com/
Ms. Ann @ The Old Black Church http://theoldblackchurch.blogspot.com/

I love love love personal blogs. I view my blog as personal, but what do I have in common with the above women, and what do they have in common with each other? Well, they all have either lost a loved one, or are in the process of losing a loved one, or has written about the pain of supporting a loved one or letting them go. To some degree, I think everyone has been there.

My father never had to cut the cord from me. He didn't see my deepest struggles. He passed away at an early age.

Some of my greatest memories are the times I spent with my father. I loved to watch him play softball. Those were different days, they were slower times. Drug abuse and fatherless children were not the prevalent topics of discussion. I can remember going to far off places with my father and his softball team. Well, we lived in Illinois, and what seemed like a distant land, was nothing more than a small town or a corn field on the other side of the Mississippi River. But to me, they were a places of wonderment. Just as in the movie "The Field Of Dreams" the farmers built it, and we played in it. Actually, I went to shag foul balls. Since the ball diamonds were carved out of corn fields or near a corn field, a foul ball, or a home run that landed in the corn, was worth 5 cents to the luckiest or fastest kid that retrieved the wayward Spalding. I was pretty fast and didn't mind getting scratched by the corn stalks.

After returning home, I shared my bounty with my brothers. Sometimes it would be as much as 1 dollar. A paltry sum by todays standards, but a kings ransom back then. The neighborhood movie cost twenty two cents. A fresh hot bag of popcorn could be had for a nickel, likewise for a small pop. Those were the days, 3 raggety black kids enjoying a day at the movies. I remember the joy on my fathers face. He was proud of me and my brothers, and pleased that we had a great time together.

My father was a man's man. In his last days I had to carry him to the bath room. He was to weak to walk the distance and to proud to take care of his business in his bed. I remember the look on his face - he couldn't do for his self. I still remember my loss for words. He didn't have to bare the pain of seeing me down, yet, I felt the pain of losing him. Although I no longer wear that pain, I remember what I had to go through to put it in it's proper place.

My mother saw me on the ground. She saw the depths of my struggles. I'll get back to her.

Kit, (above), has shared some of her recent struggles with her son. With the conviction and courage of a lion, she has shared her pain of a mother holding on to a son, that was lost in a storm. She's documented that journey, which at times has been very disturbing.

Many bloggers have gathered at her blog with words of encouragement and inspiration. One such blogger, A Smith (above), went there to share her story. She told of her lover that was struggling with drug abuse. Her lovers mother told her to run away from her son. It was her opinion that her son would drag A Smith to the ground. Even though Ms. Smith loved this man, she finally realize she had to let him go. She told him she couldn't do it anymore. They broke up and a few months later, her lover committed suicide.

A Smith dropped by Kit's blog to share a little compassion, empathy, and wisdom, on the process of going through her own storm. She said, although the ending to her story was not how she would have planned it, and was not without pain, she now believes the thought of letting go was much more painful than being in her present state. She said she still misses her guy, but the healing process began when she made the decision to let him go. Now there's a possibility for solutions, if only for herself.

How does a mother let go?

I am not a mother so I can't answer that question, but I know how my mother forced me to swim or die. She simply told me she had given it to God, and she was done. She couldn't do it any more.

After my biggest fall, my friends and family told me they had never seen my mother as low as those days of my turmoil. They said she was dying inside. While in my struggle, her feelings and emotions were never at the forefront of my mind. So, in retrospect, it was only fitting that she left me to my own demise. I am grateful that she cut the cord. She told me that my burial was paid and I had to sink or swim. Oh lord, did I sink, but I didn't drown. My gratefulness extends beyoud my obvious rewards, but moreso to the fact that my mother found the courage to release herself from my pain. There's an old school songs that goes... "when something is wrong with my baby, something is wrong with me".

I included Mizrepresents and Ann (above) because both of them have shared their journeys of holding on to sons that were walking down dark roads. I don't know if they've given any details of their lives so I will refrain from doing so in this post. However, through our common struggles, we've exchanged words of wisdom and words of encouragement. They may not know it, but their words have inspired me to continue writing and continue to share in a courageous and honest way. Other people may not know it, but I know they cry... sometimes.

Maybe one day we will all sit down at the same table and have one big cry. Men do cry, and sometimes, tears come from joy, and hope, and the realization that it's gonna be alright in the morning.

Sometimes I’m up, sometimes I’m down
Oh, yes, Lord
Sometimes I’m almost to de groun’
Oh, yes, Lord

If you get there before I do
Oh, yes, Lord
Tell all-a my friends I’m coming too
Oh, yes, Lord

Nobody knows de trouble I’ve seen
Nobody knows de trouble but Jesus
Nobody knows de trouble I’ve seen
Glory Hallelujah!

It's another love TKO!

Get Out Of My Life Woman. I DON'T LUV YOU NO MO!

2011-09-22T11:34:00.000-05:00

Please baby, a thousand times NO, I rather die than say yes.

Bill Cosby, Get out of my life woman

THE DEVIL SPIT ME OUT BECAUSE I WASN'T DONE ENOUGH or HE THOUGHT HE WAS STRONGER THAN GOD.

2011-09-18T04:30:00.000-05:00

I was walking with the devil. He loved me and I loved him back. Crazy I know, but it's true. All that I am about to tell you is true.

If I could get high right now, I would. Are you kidding me, there is no greater feeling. That's real and very dangerous. If you didn't know, you don't want to know, because the sensations of some chemicals are better than the best orgasms. That's real and very dangerous.

If you didn't know, you don't want to know, because some drugs will actually bring on an orgasm. Yes, that's the truth and very dangerous. Who doesn't like orgasms?

You will not hear this from your local treatment center of your 10 o'clock news AND you might not want to, because some drugs hold back ejaculation which make some men feel like Tarzan. And, women love their Tarzans. That's the honest to God truth and that's real and very dangerous. Who doesn't want to boogie woogie all night long?

If I could get high right now, I would. Who wouldn't want to hold back the aging process? Some drugs do that, but you didn't hear that from me (and you will not hear that from anyone else), AND, you don't want to hear that. Some of the best athletes have the lowest heart rates, around 30-40 beats per second. An elevated heart rate means the heart is working harder. Stress, worry and pain are contributing factors to an increased heart rate. Some drugs will take away that worry and stress and leave you with a sense of ease and comfort. You don't want to hear that because it's an euphoria like no other. Some drugs produce a sleep with dreams that are colorful, peaceful and long lasting. Nothing in the world can touch it, and that's real and very dangerous.

All the above situations, sexual prowess, instant orgasms, long orgasms, multiple orgasms, sweet dreams, and a worry free mind are very dangerous. Not because of the championed adverse affects, it's because you're going to love it. Then, after a short period, the mind remembers all those sensations, BUT... and HOWEVER, unfortunately those same sensations will never be reached again without that same drug. No never, not ever, NEVER. But the mind sits and waits for it's lover to come back home. There will never be another lover like that lover. But the mind sits, and cries and yearns and waits.

This post was inspired by my closest friend that heard that cry. He was in the ministry, sitting right up in the pulpit, but unfortunately his demons called him back. He just called me today (July 19, 2010) and others had been whispering. We had been walking this path together. For years we have been each others greatest support. Now I am left to wonder, what went wrong?

If I could get high right now, today, I would, but I can't. I asked my friend if the drug still felt as good as in the old days. He said it felt even better. But let me go back a couple of days.

The other day I received an e-mail from another blogger. One part of the e-mail said, "Im gonna start getting more confrontational, but in a good way. I may be wrong from time to time, but Im sure people will put me in my place. I want to build a more dynamic blog, like yours, boo!"

Well, I've often questioned why I and other people blog? Although we seldom talk about it, I doubt there's not one of us who doesn't want to be sought out, liked, and admired. In no small way, our perceived popularity makes us or breaks us. It's like the wind beneath our wings.

However, I say to my friend and others, be careful what you ask for. I may be confrontational and I may be loud, that's because I have to be or I might get high. My brain will ply me with sweet memories of days long gone. It will try to render me helpless against that first wayward walk on the wild side. So I have to say it loud and confront anything they may persuade me to forget the insanity driven consequences of taking that same path as my friend.

I don't know what evil lurked in the heart of my best friend, but I know the devil had me in his mouth, but I slipped away with a little help.

Being loud, confrontational or what some would consider dynamic, will not get one a bunch of comments or hits, but it's helping me to never forget the horrors of my past. I have to keep the problem close to me so that I am always working on solutions. Because I remember it, and I know I will hear it's cry, but I can't love it anymore.

I Do Not Remember Days, I Remember Moments.

2011-08-09T16:01:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine endured 30 years of an abusive marriage. She's moving forward, those days are behind her. This is her moment.

My Moment

My dreams had almost faded away
How many times did I cry?
I look back and I wonder why

It seemed so hard
My heart was ripping apart
I can’t live, I must die

Inside me, I was dying
My body was falling apart
A raft I could not find

In the shadow of my life
My moments when I’m all alone
In my times of need, I can not feel

It’s cold, I go to the storm of my day
Looking, longing, wanting the savior to come my way
Where is my friend?
Why do the tears run down my face

I’m still searching for me
Within this lonely place
A longing for peace within
I still struggle

I will not let the devil win this battle!
I will not allow him to steal my joy!
No, I can’t!

God gave “this” to me!
This has to stop!
Tears no more
Grateful is my new roar.

~Cookie

To Kill A Mockingbird and Nigger Jim: Great American Classics My Ass!

2011-08-04T10:07:00.000-05:00

It alway amazes me how some topics can be the big news of the day, filled with heated debates, but yet, fade into the background while the beat goes on. Gil Scott Heron has died and his voice... well, read on and see what I mean.

I couldn't believe the raging debates on yes Nigger ~~Jim~~ or no Nigger ~~Jim~~. Well, in the first place, I never understood why "To Kill A Mockingbird" and "The adventures of Huckleberry Finn" are considered American classics. What, classic vehicles to carry the message... it takes good white folks to rescue dem po dumb darkies, I mean niggas jims? Uh huh, and in the end the darkie still gets screwed. Ummmm, what's the message?

Oh yeah, I heard the cry of some of our 2011 negros.... "Lawdy Lawdy.... don't take Nigger Jim out of The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn". Look, I am not going there today because that sh*t pisses me off. Well, I had one person tell me the following...

"We should have it so that our children ask us 'why they call him Nigger Jim' and for parents to be able to explain the dynamic of racisim and what that crap implies"

Now, if that's not a paper thin stupid argument, I'll kiss your ass. Let's see, if I'm not mistaken, the word "nigger" is presently being used and has been used for nearly 200 years or more. So, we should keep it in Huck Finn to teach our children the dynamics of racism? Get the f**k out of here. If our children's learning tool on racism and the word "nigger" is relegated to The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn, that child and it's parents are destined to be well below the curve. And check this, some folks believe removing the words "Nigger Jim" is an attempt by white folks to whitewash history. Again I say, GTFOOH. There are millions of source material that highlight the word "nigger" and displays racism in all it's glory. But they are not considered Classic American novels, that are mandatory reading in Jr High Schools (middle school). The "whitewash" argument makes no sense at all.

But check this, I do have a few questions: Why is Gil Scott Heron in jail for killing a freakin' mockingbird?

No folks, not Jill Scott, Gil Scott Heron. What, you haven't read about this? I bet you've heard of Nigger Jim and Edgar Allen Poe.

Well, I know you've seen - or heard - of Sex In The City, but what about Black Thighs?
Huh, what, don't tell me you've never read Black Thighs?

Surely you've read The Night Before Christmas - but what about - Before The White Man Came? Yep, you've seen Message In A Bottle, but what about Message To The Messengers? Who wrote the words to that poem and what was the message? Hint: It was a message to rappers by the Godfather. Nope, not James Brown nor "Don" Vito Corleone.

Okay, maybe this is not fair. Maybe all of your novels and books of poetry were stolen be Nigger Jim or got lost in the washing machine or in the brainwash. But I'm just saying, I am sure you've heard about Broke Back Mountain, but what about On Coming From A Broken Home, huh? Have you read that? Surely you've heard of Hill Street Blues, but what about The Get Out Of The Ghetto Blues? Come on now folks, Woman Are From Venus And Men Are From Mars - right.  Okay, let me hear it, Whitey On The Moon...    answers, questions, give me a line or two?

Damn, don't take this ass whoopin personally but sing along with me, I know you know the song... "home home on the range, where the dear and the antelope play, where seldom is heard a discouraging word, and the skies are all sunny all day". Okay, do you know the words to "Home Is Where The Hatred Is"?

Well, if you've been stumped, it's gimme time. I mean, who hasn't seen "Waiting To Exhale", but what about "Waiting For The Ax"? Come on, I know you've heard about the old negro and his Uncle Tom's Cabin, but what about the words from "The Klan"....   huh, have you read them?

You guys are starting to piss me off. But maybe I am speaking to the wrong crowd?  So I'll direct my attention to the old school audience. Now, which of you has not taken a quick peek at the soap operas All My Children and The Guiding light? Okay, but what about the lyrics from Save The Children and The Guided? Wait, I have an easier one. Everybody knows a little something about Days Of Our Lives, but what about "Lady Day And John Coltrane"? Do you know anything about that literature?

I am so sorry, how could I have been so careless. I should have made this a black thang. Okay, here we go. Er'body has danced to the Sooooul Train, but what about Your Soul And Mine. I mean, have you heard of that? But wait, who can forget Denzel Washington's performance in Walter Moseley's Devil In A Blue Dress, but do you know anything about "Me & The Devil"? Huh, have you heard of that?

Oh lawd, I am crying because this ass whoopin is hurting me more than it's hurting you, but I can't stop this train. No, not the soul train, this train of thought.

Speaking of a thought, I am thinking about writing Oprah to make a few suggestions. See, she has this book club thing. Well, although she has included a few books written by black folks, I'd like to included a few must read selections, you know, American Classics. Granted, she has championed the popular black writers like Toni Morrison , Bill Cosby, Maya Angelou, Pearl Cleage, Lalita Tademy, Sidney Poiter and a few others, but those are feel good authors. I mean, they're "safe" authors. But I have to admit that I did love two of Toni Morrison's book and A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest Gaines, and I Know Why A Caged Bird Sings... but let me get back in form.

Instead of Oprah reaching out to William Faulkner (his 4th), I think she would be the greatest black woman that has ever walked this earth if her next three books were by Gil Scott Heron, The Last Poets and Paul Mooney.

Hey, if a lying white dude can get on Oprah's list, why can't she give the drummer some... a black drummer leader? If Gil Scott Heron, who has his masters degree from John Hopkins University, can go to jail for killing a mocking bird, surely we can throw him a bone by checking out his 2010 I'm New Here, and all of his earlier classics. Besides, we all could use a little history lesson, can't we?

Er'body knows about Juneteenth and Martin Luther Kings Birthday. What about the American poet and author Gil Scott Heron? Okay, maybe he didn't kill a mockingbird or Harper Lee(the author of To Kill A Mockingbird), but why is her book considered an American Classic? Is it because her book championed the thought that it's the American way of life - (always has been) - that white folks are superior to black folks. And, from what I read, the messages is... it's standard procedure to mistreat po colored folk?

I know the name of another book that's considered an American classic... yeah, freakin' Hucklebuckin' Nigger Jim. As a young student, I was required to read that mess. Who can forget that fine reading pleasure. I still have scars And some folks are screaming "LEAVE NIGGER JIM ALONE'. They say, to remove the "nigger" from Jim's first name, would be akin to whitewashing history. Uuuuummmm, yeah, I know, it sounds like somebody has been brainwashed and whitewashed.

I don't know why the caged bird sings but I know every closed eye ain't sleep. My eyes have seen the glory... what about you? Pick out and pickup a few good books and read them to - and with - your children.

This post was inspired by my friend Maxine Beneba Clark http://slamup.blogspot.com/ . All of the above titles are the works of Gil Scott Heron and Maxine - from Australia - has written a collection of poetry... Gil Scott Heron Is On Parole

Her latest post is titled, Being Alice Walker's Daughter. Check it out - her blog - and checkout her book.

And, who is the man behind this blog? Well, if you care to know, I am in the following clip. Yelp, surprise surprise, I run my mouth for a living.

THE COLOR PURPLE, STARRING TIGER WOODS & MAGIC JOHNSON!

2011-08-03T06:57:00.000-05:00

I don't know why theses things pop in my head when they do but...

"Until you do right by me, everything you even think about gonna fail!

"I’m poor, black, I might even be ugly, but dear god, I’m here. I’m here

"You a low down dirty dog, that’s what’s wrong. Time for me to get away from you, and enter into creation - Celie, FROM THE COLOR PURPLE

Okay my fine fellow blogites there’s a fork in the road, which way should I go? Well,
throughout this whole debacle concerning Tiger Woods, the black women still can’t get paid.

**The curtain rises on The Color Purple**

Ladies and gentle, I present The Color Purple, starring Magic Johnson and Tiger Woods.

Old Mr: (referring to Shug) She black as tar, nappy-headed, got legs like baseball bats, and I hear she got that nasty women’s disease.

Magic Johnson says: "I’ll take some of that"

Magic Johnson, with his freaky ass, was on The Jimmy Kimmel Show. Jimmy had the nerve to ask the negro pimping’, easy credit ripoff bastard, what he thought about the Tiger Woods incident. Magic's inconsiderate ass, had the nerve to throw a black woman on the floor. He had the nerve to put his own wife, Cookie, back in the fire.

Hadn’t she faced enough humiliation and scrutiny? Wasn’t it her baby that had to be tested for Aids? Why on earth would Magic say "what Cookie would have done?" Isn’t Magic still breathing and selling dreams? Did she bust HIS goddamn head, or poke him in his ass like the slimy pig that he is? The gull of this man to have any comment on this subject by throwing his wife in the fray. Cookie should have cut off his wiener.

I’ve grown tired of the opinion that a black women would have done something different upon finding out their husband had taken refuge in another valley of love? I mean, when their husbands were screwing at the slip & easy, every black woman is not going to act like an ape lady?

But why the insistence on painting the black women as savage beasts that lets their emotions consume them? Granted, it’s true that some black women would have cut Tiger deep down to the white meat. But that’s not true of all black women.

Do you remember Celie? I think some black women would take the graceful road. You know, just turn around and leave them in their mess.

Do you remember when Celie said "The jail you planned for me is the one you’re gonna rot in. You a low down dirty dog that’s what’s wrong"... "Time for me to get away from you, and enter into Creation

Well, I was talking to my cousin yesterday. She reminded me that our grandmother was color struck. Our grandmother, who is black, saw no problem with black men desiring a white woman. Okay, there's nothing wrong with her voicing her opinion. But, she said white women will do more for you than a colored woman. My cousin, who was very young at the time, was impressionable and never disrespected our grandmother. She didn’t voice a dissenting view because she really didn’t have one. She remembered that day because my brother, who was older than she, dropped by and heard our grandmother's comment. He too was respectful to our grandmother, however my cousin said his eyes spoke volumes. In an even and serious voice, he told my grandmother that she shouldn’t say things like that, because it was wrong. My cousin Shellie said my brother was her guy from that day on. He voiced an opposing to our grandmother, and he stood up for black women. More so, not that it was our grandmother - she saw a way to disagree and yet stay respectful.

While my cousin and I were talking, we wondered what messages Tiger, and men like him, are sending to their children. If they only date white women or championed white women, what messages possibly be telling their mixed children? What...they are not good enough, or they are inferior to white woman? The children might even project their father’s disdain of black women upon themselves, and surmise that he doesn’t really love them. They are black.

Evil lurks in the hearts of man.

Sofia, talking to Celie: "I sat in that jail til I near about done rot to death. I know what it like to wanna go crazy. And when I seed you - I know’d there is a God. I know’d there is a God"

Celie: "I’m poor, black, I might even be ugly, dear God. I’m here. I’m here".

Yep, all black women are not absent minded animals that are fueled by lust, violent activity and ignorance. If you think so, you're either a fool or a women hater. You might as well bark at the moon. Black women may get mad, and they may hold resentments, and thus, emote, however, many will not use the edge of a sword to voice their disdain. Some black women have a belief and a faith that it’s gonna be all right in the morning... no matter how long the night.

The struggles of being a black woman can only be expressed by a black woman. Yet I am left to believe that black women still can’t get paid. In the circle of respect, I’ve noticed their respect frequently comes as an after thought.

So if Tiger was married to a black woman and flicked his thang at a bunch of scanks, things would have been different? How so, lets count the ways? But first, it’s obvious to me that continuing the stereotypical myth that white women are more passive and understanding than black women, only serves to stratify them above woman of color. Imo, that myth is disrespectful to black women and is frequently used as an excuse by black men to continue their misguided ways of exclusively dating white women.

I am going to flip the script. Personally, if I found out my lady was running off to the hideaway hotel with several different men, I wouldn’t whoop that ass, I’d leave that ass. I wouldn’t play myself by busting out windows or busting her head. I would not be food for fodder.

Take a bow Magic Johnson. Give up that money Tiger Woods. You've played yourself.

.**************The curtain closes******************.

Keith said...
Well written,Well Said...I couldn't agree more. What makes me even sadder is when we Black people give in to these stereotypes. I've heard Black women proclaim jokingly that Elin Woods "must have some Black in her, she went after his ass with that golf club." No...That was just human emotion...That's what anybody might have done... I agree,I wouldn't have reacted like that either and neither would a lot of people,Black or White...Or they might have..Black or White...I get tired of people always prescribing certain behaviors just to Black people all the time and in this case ,Black women...Thanks Brother for stating these facts and for standing up not just for Black women, but for the race in general.
8:03 AM

saint james said...
Sistah's rule. I love black women. They are beautiful, strong, dedicated and invincible.I am also disgusted with Magic for encouraging po' folks to lose money at rent-a-Center. A shame. Good post!

Mizrepresent said...
"Personally, if I found out my lady was running off to the hideaway hotel with several different men."Exactly, i would do the same.

uglyblackjohn said...
People who get paid are people who demand to be paid.If many women only see themselves as only deserving the scraps - that's all they'll get and prove themselves correct.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
I missed the Majic interview.... I hope I don't step on any toes, but a man that's never dated a black women is missing some good loving! Sistas know how to put it down with the right man! I don't mean in the bedroom, I mean supporting him, caring for him and his kids, sharing with him and being faithful unto him. Like I said, with the "right" brother; it's a wrap! ;-)Love, peace and contined blessings!Free Spirit

RiPPa said...
QUESTION(s): How do you arrive at the place or come to the conclusion that Tiger Woods has a disdain for black women? And what's wrong with Magic referencing his wife in answering a question which involves him CHEATING on HIS wife who IS Cookie? Is Cookie less of a black woman because she chose to stand by her man? Is Elin Woods less of a white woman because she decided to bust Tiger in the head or divorce his ass?

CareyCarey said...
WoW, I was beginning to think that I was slipping. No one disagreed until RiPPa DiPPa, slid this on the floor... "QUESTION(s): How do you arrive at the place or come to the conclusion that Tiger Woods has a disdain for black women? And what's wrong with Magic referencing his wife in answering a question which involves him CHEATING on HIS wife who IS Cookie? Is Cookie less of a black woman because she chose to stand by her man? Is Elin Woods less of a white woman because she decided to bust Tiger in the head or divorce his ass"

Okay RiPPa I am going to give you a piece of this bone. Take the word "disdain" out of the post and slid in any word you want. The spirit of the post is , in many arenas, black women are viewed as less than white women. If you want, you can say Tiger LOVES his white women, more than he does black women. Now, if that's too vague, you can say he only gives his love bone to white women, okay.Flip it around, but the question remains, what message is he giving to his non- white children.Magic Johnson?! Again, Magic only mentioned his wife to continue the myth that all black women act like damn fools when they are confronted with adversity. That negative flavor was on the floor before Magic gave his words of wisdom. Jimmy Kimmel set the tone by visiting a black barber shop. Niggas was talking barber shop talk... "my wife would have cut off my johnson" ... "my wife would have cut me, and that bitch".Then Magic, in his true pimpin' ways, said "Cookie would have".

No Magic, you dumb motherfu*ker, what DID Cookie do? She didn't bust yo head. Magic just smiled and let the negative stereotype stay on the floor.... along with his wife. Sure, he can say what the hell he wants about his wife. But that don't make it right. I suggest he bring her to the light, and not keep dropping salt on her.

If I Was An Octopus and I Didn’t Have to Go To My Slave?

2011-07-25T19:42:00.000-05:00

An Octopus and a slave; how does that work?

Well I'm feeling kind of melancholy today so my mind drifted to a place of ease and comfort. Now, to do this right I have to tell you about the strength of an ant. See, he can lift several time his weight. If I had the strength of an ant, I could lift my car out of snow drifts or carry ten women across the threshold at the same time.

If I had the legs of a centipede I would be an Olympic gold medalist, or some type of super hero.

Speaking of super heroes, I went to my barbershop the other day; a place where everyone is a superhero if you listened to the sweet sounds of lies that permeate a gathering place of black men competing for the one ups-manship award. . It's a place were haircuts are secondary issues. Well, some go to tell grand lies. Others go to talk about sports. That reminds me, why do men tell big bold faces lies about their sexual prowess? This one guy said he had sex with 3 women for 6 hours. Now come on, most men would probably agree that 1 hour with 1 women is a good days work. I don't know exactly what he meant by "had sex" but I put on my best Richard Pryor and told him that he should go right home and tell his wife that he's a big-fat-cheating-funky-liar.

Anyway, I told the crowd that I wanted to be an Octopus. Wait... since I never know who's reading this blog and the barbershop is generally a place filled with men, I can't really say what I told them, but just use your imagination.

Now stay with me. I don't like to hear people cry and whine. I think crying should be a personal thang. Nothing tightens my jaws more than someone whining about some dumb mess. I know it's good to let thangs out, but don't they have doctors for that? The more I watch the news and listen to people cry, the more I realize how grateful I should be. I don't know if many of you have read some of my personal posts but I've stumbled a few times, big time. Yet, through the storm, I now find myself at a place of complete comfort. Really ...I was telling someone this the other day. I could lose a few pounds but at the present time, I do not have any health problems.

Most individuals, to some degree, have relationship problems. Today I am cool with that. I don't have any babies momma drama. And money seems to be an issue that drives many people crazy. They seem to never have enough or feel a need to buy something bigger and better. I've been "nigga rich" but today I am not and I am cool with that, I'm just "rich" in several ways. Really, money issues do not get much of my playing time. I've learned to stay out of the lanes of others. I sleep between 7 - 8 hours a day and I have one of those deep freezers that can hold a half a cow, and I got one in there.

I wonder what others feel or think when someone says their life is cool? Do you believe them, or do we like to hear more of the negative stuff - which might give us a sense of togetherness? I mean, when I heard a person was doing real good, I sort of wished I could find that same happiness but back in my mind, I thought nobody can be that content with life. I've come to believe, that we believe and understand that which is in our own realm of possibilities or past experiences.

Anyway, there is however a price to pay for this new place that I now find myself. Struggle and pain can become a way of life. It's strange but it's easy to feel bored and unsatisfied when the fire and misery is gone. Insanity I know, however, complaining and worrying has a strange way of duping a person into believing they are doing something construtive. At the very least, it fills up their day. The absence of mess and confusion sometimes opens the door to new temptations of a negative variety. It give temporary pleasure. But since I've just about committed all of the 7 deadly sins and created a few of my own and lived to talk about them, and ask forgiveness for them, I sometimes find myself wondering - what next? What's next?!?

Well, here's where I'm at. I was reading the paper the other day and stumbled upon an article: Commencement Wisdom, Messages Apply to More Than New Graduates.

The article shared a few favorite commencement addresses. It caught my eye because I love to hear the opinions of wise men. The following gentleman's experiences propelled me to turn my ear in their direction. Before I give their names, based solely on their words, see if you can guess who they are. One is a president.

1). "Wake up and stop dreaming"

2). "Truth ultimately conquers prejudice"

3). "A calling of service to others"

4). "There's always more to do"

5). "Become God's partner"

Answers:

1. Larry Page, Google founder - Michigan alumnus

2. Michael Kirby, Australian chief court justice - Indiana alumnus

3. Deere & Co. CEO Robert Lane

4. Barrack Obama, The President Of The United States

5. Bishop Desmond Tutu, University of North Carolina

Each message touched me. It's not that I could related (for the most part) to any of their personal paths to success, nor their personal lives. Nope, I do not want anything they've "had" or "accomplished". They each talked about a bigger challenge after they reached a place that some would die for. I found something in each of the commencement addresses.

"The best reformers the world has ever seen are those who commence on themselves" - George Bernard Shaw

What would you do or become if all of your major problems/issues were moot points? If you could wake up and not have to go to your slave job, or work at all, wouldn't that be nice? How good would life be if you didn't worry about your lover, or a lover? Is money a constant issue in your life? Who would you be and/or what would you do if your storms produced no more tears?

GET ON THAT TRAIN NIGGER!

2011-07-21T17:32:00.003-05:00

DAAAAYUM! That sign scared the mess out of me.

Then my mind went to a place few has ventured. What if the US got tired of black folks and decided to call them all in. Hold up now, let me finish, don’t run from the light. What if they preempted all programming and told all African Americans to report to "staging areas"?

Okay, we know most black people have 1 gun - or none - and 6 bullets. But, for the sake of argument, lets say several have a bunch of weapons. But see, I doubt that would be enough because, first, they would tell all white folk to get out of the cities and then bomb that bitch. You feeling me? That would corral a bunch of negroes. All your white buddies would then be nothing but white - not buddies - simply white. They sure wouldn't run to the cities with your ass. Let alone hide you in their attic. That "hide the darkie in the attic" is only found in the movies. The US couldn’t find Bin "Thin" Latin, but they'll find negroes hiding under the boardwalk.

And check this, I don't know if you've driven across the US, but if you have, you know there are miles and miles and miles of places that a brotha CAN'T hide. What? Don't believe me, ask the Indian about that. And believe me, there are millions of acres in the USA that a black face nor foot has never touched.

That reminds me. The American Indian had strong warriors on swift horses. You know, strong bucks to ride forward, spreading the news of the advancing white man with fork tongue. But apparently, they were not fast enough. So, what about communications? Do I need to say how vital a role that plays in any... ahh, war? A 30 day phone card is not going to get it. In fact, all communication systems are owned by white folks, including BET. So again, you can’t call your white “friends” and they are not coming if they could. Are you kidding me, they know the heart of the conqueror, and if history serve us well, it’s not pretty nor loving and surely cares nothing about the plight of black folks. So keep on knock and calling, “Leon”, but they are not answering your call.

The Jewish community could blend in. Yep, all they have to do is change their names and take off that Star Of David. But black folks can't hide. Where are they going to run? If they run to the West or East, depending on their starting point, there's a great body of water called the Mississippi River. Uh huh, that's going to stop many right there. And, if some make it to the other side, they will not be met by the underground railroad. Not Harriet Tubman, nor Oprah, will be waiting for them with grits and kool-aid, nor a new car. Nope, cornfields, haystacks and shotguns will meet their advance.

How many airplanes do black folks own? Heck, how many black pilots do you know? Who's going to come to the rescue of the black man in America? Is the black man really needed? Affirmative action will not fly. The bill of rights and civil rights will be null and void.

Is the black man really needed? Oh happy day, there will be jobs for everyone - white. Unemployment will be at it's lowest. No more BET to wreck the minds of the inquisitive white kids. White folks could turn on the TV and root for all the white guys shooting 3 pointers. Dunking will be banned. There would be no more debates about immigration laws because everybody that even looks like they've ever kissed a dark skinned person would have to run for the hills.

I know this scenario might sound a little crazy but am just saying... is the black man needed in the US? Some might argue the contributions the black man has made, like jazz, the peanut and The Harlem Globe Trotters, but really? The history books will be rewritten - AGAIN! Who needs the black man to make more babies than they can afford, nor feed - huh? Who needs the black man to sell more drugs and increase the crime rate, after the white man ships those drugs to his shore? Why doesn't America take the black man out of his misery before unemployment hits the levels of Liberia? Heck, they're already killing each other, are they not? Should the black man get ready because isn't there a train a coming? Do we need another million man march or HBO special about the plight of the black man and the new plantation of debt? Should we call Cornel West and his boys to hold another round table discussion. Maybe we should just bitch and moan and cry and bullshit, while telling others what "THEY need to do"

Some folks are gonna make me lose my mind, up in here, up in here. They are gonna make me act a fool up in here, up in here. Yeah, some believe America can do without rap music too. To many blacks making money off that mess, right? That gutter bowl - jelly roll - bump yo booty, don't you know, is getting out of control - ain‘t it - huh? I don't know, is it me or does America really need black folks?

I think there's a train a comin'. And... that's my opinion. But, it is a fact that white folks have never loved people of color. Granted, there are some good white folks, but their voices will be silenced by popular opinion. The overwhelming major of white folks could case less about people of color. They use them and abuse them for their own satisfaction, and only a wannabe blind fool would believe they respect and love them. Yet, some black folks believe they don’t have a ticket to board that train to nowhere. I hear them every day.... "Massa, you's be right. Most of those African American are messing it up for me and you. I am not like the rest of those people. I talk just like you and I call a spade a spade!"

"Is that right Leon, you're black aren't you!?"

nachalooman said...

What you're talking about is what they call "GroupThink" when folks are afraid to speak out against the prevailing thought patterns of their "group". It's about having courage, Carey. There are some who feel Obama was suppose to create more concessions for them--jobs, houses, cars, whatnot. But maybe what Obama is really doing is destroying or at least forcing us to challenge our areas of "GroupThink" I think Erykah Badu tried to hip us to it.

I deeply appreciate your courage, and your storytelling ability--breaking-it-down ability! I hope you continue, brother! And I KNEW you wasn't going NOWHERE from this blogosphere!! ;-D

Anna Renee

BigmacInPittsburgh said...

You are in fine form with this post!

Big Mark 243 said...

Let me tell you something that you already know. You are a deep brother and I hope you totally take it as the compliment that it is intended to be.

A.Smith said...

You know another group of people we can learn something from are the Native Americans. Especially when it comes to keeping culture.Meanwhile, on a very surface level, what annoys me about these types of black people is that I feel like what they're really trying to do is say, "hey! I'm not black for real for real. you can like me!" It's not so much self-hate as it is...well... idk, but it's more (or maybe less) than self-hate... it's something else... It's the same as whatever we'd classify a tweet I saw this morning that said, "the world isn't racist, it's classist and that's why I'm trying to make money..."

♫Hershey's Kiss♫ said...

Its been a while, but I love your blog posts. you said it. You hit the head on the nail.

Simply Teddy!

2011-07-17T11:40:00.004-05:00

Tell me about it!

WHY DOES THE BAD THINGS ALWAYS FEEL SO GOOD?: The Apple Does Not Fall Far From The Tree.

2011-07-12T00:10:00.000-05:00

The preacher said, we shouldn’t be at the club bouncing it off the floor, nor engage in gambling, or lusting over someone's spouse. And then, absent of a few low tone amen’s, the church fell eerily silent. He also said, it serves no purpose to shout hallelujah if one is slipping and sliding in all the wrong places.

And my father asked, “who broke the dining room table?” . Although my brothers and I knew the names of the guilty gang of three, we didn't say a word.

Yes sir, it’s in those moments of butt naked truths, or the prospect of dire consequences knocking at our door, that we feign innocence and ignorance, or find little reason to cheer.

Well, to some degree, this post may render a few similar gut shots. But have no fear, because I’m in the same boat. I am a parent and a son, and I've been places I don't wish to return to, so I have a piece in this pie.

First, this post was inspired by my conversation with Tracy Renne Jones @ RiPPa‘s blog http://www.rippdemup.com/2010/10/selling-out-do-some-blacks-think.html

It basically centered on those that are accused of being sellouts because they do not exhibit the stereotypical image of a black person, or speak differently than “them” or marry outside their race. Well, I said something about our black friends who try to separate themselves from our culture because they did not want to be considered a “darkie" like those other negroes. Tracy replied,

“I am NOT THEM DARKIES" Wow...if I didn't just hear my mother's voice when I read that sentence! *looks under the desk* My mother's motivation for much of my 'culturing' (piano class, Broadway shows, proper table etiquette..) had nothing to do with culturing me and everything to do with behaving differently from "THEM". It's complicated to be taught 'pride' of a race while also receiving social cues that instruct me to do the exact opposite. Eh, it worked for the most part.

Now, although my topic is not the same as Tracy's, there is a connection. The Apple Does Not Fall Far From The Tree.
　
Listen, in my early years I was a gambling man, Oh yeah, I shot craps and participated in various games of chance. Along the way, I noticed those who were running the games (house man), always came out on top. Then I figured out the intimate details of their “luck”. They always had the best hand (street talk for the biggest bank, and props), because in some form or fashion, they were cheating. Or at the very least, the odds were somehow slanted in their favor. I never liked losing, so I “borrowed” the cheating mindset. I took that with me when I entered the military (that’s me on my home page, sitting on the airplane).

Well, I didn’t lose anymore, but there’s a price to pay for adopting another man's lifestyle. In reference to my military life and the evil that lurked within, although I wanted to remain in the military after my first four years, I was denied re-enlistment. Even though I was never prosecuted for any type of crime, it was obvious that I was involved in all sorts of mess, some of which was illegal. I drove around in a brand new block long Oldsmobile Ninety Eight, and my hair was matted down with Murray’s Hair Pomade. I used that heavy grease to slide under the code restrictions associated with the length of a soldier’s hair. However, at night, when I was off duty, I'd blowout my hair to achieve a bigger afro than Sly Stone and Michael Jackson. So, I was not exactly military material. I had taken my street mentality with me. For many reasons, and for many people, that was not a good thing.

Looking back and taking a deeper look into this tree and fruit thang, I can’t help but look at the tree from which I came. But first, if I was still a gambling man (I am not, I’d rather put a quarter in a wash machine than a slot machine) I would bet that those who are racists or bigots, come from a household with a similar mindset. But it does not stop there.

I’d venture to say the overwhelming majority of people that find themselves divorced, separated, or in a rotten relationship, come from broken homes, a fatherless home, or a home were violence and mayhem was the soup of the day. But don’t make your move too soon, the house is still rockin, the beat goes on. I am prone to believe that if a person is overweight or never engaged in organized sports, it’s highly probable their parents loved a heap of pig feet, and a pound of cornbread. Yep, eating until one’s gut quakes is a learned behavior.

Screaming and hollering to discharge our emotions is another character flaw we give our children. Yet, on the other hand, some adults take the passive route when they're in the midst of a disagreement with their mate. They become submissive and depressed as they hold their problems deep inside. And, our children are always looking, listening and learning. Unfortunately, while living in that environment, they seldom learn positive ways to cope with life and it's struggles, . How could they, surely not by watching TV. Sad but true, the majority of apples do not fall far from the tree.

But again, the beat does not stop there. Party time, party time, par-tay-time, boogie woogie baby, lets throw our hands in the air and party like mom and dad ~~we just don’t care~~.

Yes sir, if I was a betting man, and if daddy & momma, either or both, loved to imbibe a little gin to make them grin and sin again, it’s a good bet that the apple didn’t fall too far from that tree. Listen, although my father was not a drinker, nor was my mother, many of their friends were. Since my parents did not object to the habits of their friend's, drinking and acting a fool, I couldn’t wait for their friends to come to our house, or we visited theirs, so I could sneak a little gin. I longed for the days in which I could take a little nip, so I could fall down and bust my stupid lip. But of course, since I thought I was slick and clever, I had to put a different spin on the getting high process. See, the seed had been planted that’s it’s okay to change how I felt by taking something other than water, to change or alter my emotions. But that’s another story, for another time. I took a different highway to my heaven. As Marvin Gaye said:

Flying high in the friendly sky
Without ever leaving the ground
And I ain't seen nothing but trouble baby
Nobody really understands, no no
And I go to the place where the good feelin' awaits me
Selfdestruction in my hand
Oh Lord, so stupid minded

So now I am wondering how can we break the bad habits given to us by our parents. At first glance, they are obviously not something we even consider until we end up in some type of therapy, or are forced to change. I mean, who sits down and ponders why they are a Democrat, a baptist, alone, or a racist, and then considers their parents? Who among us says they are a screamer because their momma was? Who says they're "Big Bone-Did" instead of saying they learned their eating habits from their parents?

I know they say if you want to know what your spouse will look like in 30 years, you should look at their parents, but I am left to believe, that look, should go deeper than the surface, or physical attributes. Then maybe we can answer the question of why the bad things always feel so good and feel so right? I think the truth makes us feel uncomfortable. Unfortunately, if that truth does not need immediate and serious attention (in the mind of the individual), it's easy to cast away, until another day.

What tree did you come from, and what's dropping from your branches? I know that's a tough question... ain't it?

A SHORT BREAK WITH LALAH HATHAWAY.

2011-07-04T16:00:00.000-05:00

I believe the following song says so many things. It's not only and always about leaving a lover behind.

I RAN INTO ALI!

2011-07-03T15:02:00.000-05:00

Today I ran into Ali.

After visiting with my daughter, I was on my way to write another frivolous post, yet, Ali stopped me.

Going back: I was standing at the ticket counter of death. I had reserved a seat to MY final call. I was queued up and ready to go. When I heard my number called, I moved to the front of the line, dropped my head -- paused -- and walked away. It wasn't my turn. It wasn't my time.

Some years ago, I was down for the count. It was the 15th round of a major fight. I was fighting for my life. I was in a state that didn't honor the 3 knockdown rule. NO-NO, I had been kknocked down 100 times. I was in a state-of-mind that insanity ruled. Fear and disillusionment were the sanctioning bodies. They controlled the action in that ring - in my mind - in that arena. If the three knockdown rule was in affect, I wouldn't be writing this post.

Now check this, I am a big boxing fan. I am a huge fan of Muhammad Ali. However, just as my admiration for Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, my affection for Ali is rooted in the core of the man. Each of the individual are praised and admired for all the popular reasons. I've been moved by their deep moral and family principles and their fighting spirit.

"Say it loud, I am black and I am proud"

~ James Brown

MLK had an undying religious conviction. He was the epitome of a black role model with deep family values. At an early age, Malcolm X saw the horrors of racism and the inside of a penitentiary. Both men were married and fought for causes that were bigger than them. Each left behind a strong wife, and a road map to being a good man.

At the prime of his life, Muhammad Ali was striped of his license to box by the the government of the USA. Now how did a man go from being one of the most hated black men in America, to lighting the Olympic touch?

Long before it was popular to protest our involvement in foreign wars, Ali said, "Hell no, I will not go". Because of his decision to stand on his faith, he was vilified by the press and some people of his own race. His conversion to Islam drew fire long before the present state of affairs in Iraq and Afghanistan.

In the fight game, Ali fought the best of the best. He was an 8-1 underdog to Sonny Liston. He beat him twice. Ken Norton broke his jaw in two places. He did away with him as well. A white man by the name of Cooper knocked him down in the 4th round. He got up and finished him off. After a 5 year forced retirement, he came back to regain his title. Some of his skills had diminished but he fought on.

Joe Frazier stood in his way. They had 3 memorable battles. Who can forget the Thrilla In Manila? Ali was the last man standing.

The motherland called his name. George foreman stood at the gate. The Rumble In The Jungle found Ali with slower hands and less peep in his step, but his mind and heart were still strong.

The Goliath like Foreman was counted out in the 8th round.

Martin Luther King stood for civil rights. Malcolm X stood for black pride. Ali stood on his principles. They all were great men. They all stood strong while fighting for right.

I like Muhammad Ali, he stopped me today. The man still hits hard in so many ways. I was on my way to write a post of a different flavor. Before doing so, I found a serendipitous reward. I stopped to watch the documentary "Facing Ali". It was a knockout!

Like Ali, I was down for the count but it wasn't my time. I had to get up... someone needed me.

I LOVED HER!

2011-07-02T14:32:00.000-05:00

I Loved Her.

Her words drew me closer. I couldn't wait to rest in her arms. Her voice had the mesmerizing tone of sweet drops of rest... a soft rain accompanied by an easy breeze. I called her my Goddess.

This is not a Harlequin romance novel. It's about meeting someone who had touched my heart. She was beautiful on the outside but her words were my aphrodisiac. She expressed herself with the fearlessness of a wise queen. Her voice, although soft, aroused my soul like the anticipation on the night before Christmas. Heaven must be like this, it surely must be like this.

I surmised that she could have chosen any man as her constant companion, which forced me to ask, why me? Women like that don't have to sleep alone. Why have I fallen prey to the sweet perfume of her voice? Could this be love, or is it my imagination. Is there such a thing as love at first sight, if so, it has it captured me.

I am a very cautious man. My history tells me to protect my heart as if it was the keys to my last dying breath. But I would relinquish those keys if I could forever stay in her bliss.

Oh stars, Oh God, what destiny does thine hold. Should I stop this mental agitation. Tell me why? Do I dream as a man that wishes on a star? Should I let her walk away? If I so dream, I wish to take her with me. I want to spend more time with her. More time to do it over and over again, and again, and again. If I could, I would, stay in her flow, her glow, that mystical world of wonderment.

Hurt is a man that has a dream, that he can't show, I wonder if she knows? I am going to lay down and dream. Again and again, I am going to dream of her! I have to dream because I want to go back to the way it was, because I don't love her anymore.

She was my secret lover, but I, not her's, and she spoiled my dream. I was captured by her stately grace, her rhythmic pace, but I found out she was married to a white man. I know, who knows what evil lurks in the heart of man, but I have to admit that I have a thang against black women that have white men as their mates. And see, she didn't even know me, yet I was enthralled by her outer beauty but most importantly, I was under the spell of her intellectual prowess. However, that love is now gone. Her words have been spoiled by the color of a man's skin. My prejudice has driven a wedge between me and my dream come true. She whispers but the love is gone.

BLACK MEN CAN'T!

2011-07-01T08:15:00.000-05:00

I wonder how many black men are rooting for one of those white female presidential candidates? What do you think about black republicans in general? There are a few things a black man can expect to happen if he does the following. Well, maybe I should say certain behavior makes others do the cockeye-twist-neck-jerk-what-did-you-just-say-my-black-friend-Jay?

Listen, ,I've been looking around the blogsphere. If I wanted others to look at me with a questioning eye I would write "OMG". But see, real black men can't use that one. They can but isn't that a chick's term. I've been walking around the blog world and since I can't say OH MY GOD, I'll just say, gawd damn.

There seems to be a lot of chest thumping in the blog world. It could be that I've just visited a few spots that ....well, you know, places were it's that kind of party.

Real black men wear a mustache don't they? I know there are those that like going O.J. all the way, but I have to admit that I would rather wear tightey whiteys than cut the hair off the top of my lip.

Can a black man say he doesn't watch any sports? That's blasphemy ...isn't it? I don't know but it's tough being a black man. See, I can't dunk a basketball and I've never been able to pick up on the latest dance step until long after it's gone. I am still working on the flashlight and the buckhead bounce.

What about the myth that all black men are ...well, ladies, you know.

But you know what, I loved getting to a place in my life in which I didn't have to wear someones name on my clothes. Is that a black thang, you know, being poor but wearing a rich person's name on your clothes? Anyway, since I am no longer part of the flash and dash crowd, now I can just pick out something that fits. I don't care if it a shirt that cost 79 cents and there's a picture of a rooster on it, if it fits, it's mine.

Maybe it's just me. Can a real black man say he doesn't eat chicken wings? Many will admit that they've given up on the pig while others are secretly eating everything from his tooter to his rooter.

But check this, a black barber shop is a place where a black man better have his game tight. I've noticed some brothas stopping their cars a block from the barber shop to change the music. Ooooh yeah, they wouldn't be caught dead listening to Bailey Rae or Ameh Larnieux. Silly isn't it, but it happens. Yes sir, out goes Brian Mc knight, in goes Tupac and Biggie. Don't even mention driving up listening to Floetry. Btw, I love Floetry. Anyway, I once was joked in the barber shop because I had on hush puppies. But I capped back, I joked on the fool wearing the Scareface sneakers. Scareface tennis shoes ...are you kidding me?! The boy had Tony Montana's face all over his shoes. Must be a black thang.

Can a black man say he's a choir director without getting a strange look? Come on now, yawl saw Kat Williams in First Sunday. What were you laughing at, Kat Williams or the fact that you know someone just like him. I think I know the answer to that question.

Some roles are changing though. I was with a women that ask me if I would still be with her if she couldn't cook. I said, "come on baby, you know I feel for you, but a black women that doesn't cook is like a new car without tires, where are we going to go?". Seriously, do that make black women that can't cook? I love to cook, but I think that's always been okay for a black man to say he can burn with the best. Just the other day I asked a question about how to cook chicken wings and this one brotha broke in talking like bubba from Forrest Gump. He said, I's the chicken wing king, I stew'em, I's frys'em, I bar-bee-cue dem and I eat them by the boat load. But does a black man have to cook soul food? I am hesitant to say what I like to cook because I don't want someone knocking on my door and asking me for my soul brother card.

I think I'll play it safe today. I have to get a hair cut, so I am going to pull out my Jordans' and a pair of jeans with someones name on the back pockets. I wouldn't be catch dead in a pair of Wranglers ...well, unless I was cutting the grass. Nope, am not going to wear my Levi 501's to the barber shop. I love the fit of 501's but it's tough being a black man.

Mr. CHICKEN LITTLE SAID, "The Sky Was Falling Down on May 21st, 2011"

2011-06-21T10:24:00.000-05:00

Now, I wouldn't win a game of Jeopardy if the subject was the Bible, but I know a jack leg when I see one. And they say there's a sucker born every day.

So now I'm sitting here thinking, what kind of educated fool or babies daddies momma, would follow a man that said the sky was falling down? I know Duckey Wuckey and Loosey Goosey beleived that mess, but as the story goes, their heads were pulled off by the slick and sly Foxy Loxy. Yep, they were hanging on the wrong ass. But what puzzles me the most is that some black folks fell for the Okie Doke.

For instance, my sister in law called and told me that she loved me and started making all kinds of amends. Now I'm thinking, what does she want now. See, we've never been thick as thieves, so I immediately knew something wasn't right. She went on to tell me about this end of the world thang, which caught me waaaay off guard.

Anyway, as she continued to tell me how she was going to miss me and how much she loved me. I stopped her in mid sentence and told her that I was going to miss her too, but before she went to see her maker could she please send me all the money she owes me, since she wouldn't be needing it - in heaven.

Shiiit, she was drop dead serious and I was too, I need my money. I mean, I ain't trying to tell all my business, but if the train comes right now, I ain't going to heaven - not today - so I might have to buy my way out of hell.

But listen, black folks should know that Ol' Mr. Charlie has been bamboozling us for four centuries, and apparently, he has done a pretty good job, and he's still up to his old tricks.

But wait a minute, if I am not mistaken, didn't the Bible say something about no one knows the day or hour... "concerning that day and hour, no one knows --- neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son --- except the Father only", and his body was like beryl, and his arms and his feet like colour to polished brass. Good googa moogum, this new son of lords, spreading his new Revelations, is an old wrinkled white man with loads of money. That doesn't sound like a man that was born in a manger, who wore dusty sandals.

Come on now, I ain't the smartest man, and I ain't Moses, but I wouldn't follow that man to a dog fight. Seriously, what special kind of fool or wayward huckleberry, would sell all their earthly possessions, stop playing the lottery, and run outside butt naked, waiting for that train to Jordan?

Hey, my sister-in-law hasn't called today, so who knows, maybe she did get swooped up by the mothership. I wonder if Bootsy Collins is on there? Damn, I wish she would have sent me my money. I wonder if I can call her long distance and ask her if she left my loot in a cookie jar, or if it's in the mail?

Nevertheless, the fat lady has not sang - it's 10 am, and God might be on "CP" time - so maybe I have enough time to get a little more of my groove on. I mean, my 2 brothers, my son and my sister are coming over to watch the game tonight, so I gotta be standing strong to met them at my door. And beside the fact that I am frying catfish, whole and fillet, with spaghetti on the side, and my lady made a lemon cake, one of my brothers and my sister don't get along one bit. And my other brother has been known to drink a little too much, so I gotta be around to cook the food, breakup a possible fight between my oldest brother and my baby sister, and the drunk that might step in to rescue her.

Oh happy day, what a night it's gonna be. Well, that is, if my fire and brimstone does not get here before 6:00PM cp time.

OH NO WHITNEY, say it ain't so! But I'll tell you why it's probably true.

2011-06-15T17:09:00.000-05:00

When Bobby Brown (yes, that Bobby Brown) says you have a serious problem... well, I think everyone should listen. He's not E.F. Hutton, but let me tell you what I know.

A report just came out today with the following headline. Study: Alcohol more lethal than heroin, cocaine

What do you think? Well, that's no surprise to me. I've been saying that for years, but few have been listening.

But if you don't believe me, take a look at this:

LONDON (AP) — Alcohol is more dangerous than illegal drugs like heroin
and crack cocaine, according to a new study.
British experts evaluated substances including alcohol, cocaine,
heroin, ecstasy and marijuana, ranking them based on how destructive they are to
the individual who takes them and to society as a whole.

Researchers analyzed how addictive a drug is and how it harms the human
body, in addition to other criteria like environmental damage caused by the
drug, its role in breaking up families and its economic costs, such as health
care, social services, and prison.
Heroin, crack cocaine and methamphetamine, alcohol or crystal meth, were the
most lethal to individuals. When considering their wider social effects,
alcohol, heroin and crack cocaine were the deadliest. But overall, alcohol
outranked all other substances, followed by heroin and crack cocaine. Marijuana,
ecstasy and LSD scored far lower.

The study was paid for by Britain's Centre for Crime and Justice
Studies and was published online Monday in the medical journal, Lancet.

Experts said alcohol scored so high because it is so widely used and
has devastating consequences not only for drinkers but for those around them.

When drunk in excess, alcohol damages nearly ALL organ systems. It is
also connected to higher death rates and is involved in a greater percentage of
crime than most other drugs, including heroin.

"What governments decide is illegal is not always based on science,"
said van den Brink, a professor of psychiatry and addiction at the University of
Amsterdam. . He said considerations about revenue and taxation, like those
garnered from the alcohol and tobacco industries, may influence decisions about
which substances to regulate or outlaw. "Drugs that are legal cause at least as
much damage, if not more, than drugs that are illicit," he said.

So, how does Whitney Houston fit the mix?

Well, I could use a few treatment words like, Denial, Withdrawal, and Acceptance, but I'd probably be preaching to the choir because nobody would be listening. So I've solicited a few friends of mine to assist me in this journey.

BigMacInPittsburg wrote the following post: When Does Your Life Become Important?

Is it when we become seriously ill with some disease that John Hopkins can't cure?

Is it when a love one or family member we adored has passed this life?
I find myself at 58 years old still smoking cigarettes,I know intellecually that they bring no good to my life.
I could blame the manufactures of cigarettes for my situation and in a big way they are for the lies they have told me and the millions of people that are hooked on cigarettes.
But at this point in my life I KNOW that in order for me to rid my self of this addiction I'll NEED the courage to put on my big boy pants and face the music of withdrawal.
http://bigmacinpittsburgh-jcm1021.blogspot.com/2010/10/when-does-your-life-become-important.html

And get this, Big Mac was once a drug counselor, but I'll get back to that.

Now another friend, he's from The Big Apple. Lin, aka moan, wrote the following: Aging, Like Life, Is Kinda Insidious, But It Beats The HELL Outta The Alternative.

http://lmross-moanerplicities.blogspot.com/2010/10/life-is-kinda-of-insidious-but-it-beats.html

"It happened yesterday. I didn’t start out being or
feeling any differently, but then… LIFE happened. While walking from Grand
Central Station about 11 blocks into midtown, I felt this severe CRAMP in my
left calf. It seized upon the muscle with such an intense vise-GRIP that I
literally HAD to STOP, and stop immediately! I've always hated it when getting
my-serious-tunnelvision-NYC-destination-stride on, then suddenly some fool just
STOPS short in front of me and messes up my rhythm! Never was a fan of those
blatant rhythm blockers! Now, I was becoming ONE of those annoying
people!"

Yes, father time was creeping up on Moan. After walking a few more blocks, stopping along the way, he jumped (gingerly) upon a train. Then he said, "So, I determined that I was the oldest person in that entire car of more than 60-75 people. That's a very sobering reality"

Well Well Well, remember when Moan said aging is insidious? And, did you know that insidious means "characterized by treachery or slyness; crafty" And, "more dangerous than seems evident"? Well, it does, and the truth does not lie. I am reminded of a song by the Whispers, "Just Gets Better With Time"

Well, the truth is, some things get worse over time, and if a person continues to do the same things, they will get the same results. And alcohol and crack addiction is insidious. They are both sly and treacherous beyond belief. One hit on a crack pipe and the brain never forgets that feeling. And unfortunately, it's the best feeling a person could ever experience. That's the start of the addiction process. It has nothing to do with the body needing it. The mind will always want more. Or at least, it desires to reach that feeling one more time. The feeling is better than an orgasms.

Speaking of the truth, it's time to bring Whitney back to this party. I am inviting Dr Van Den Brink, the professor of psychiatry and addictions, Moan, BigMacInPittsburg and Whitney Houston. Where do I begin?

I think INSIDIOUS is the man of the hour and ignorance is close behind. Any type of addiction is more of a formidable foe than the average genius can imagine. Some are slower roads to hell, very deceiving, but they all kill. For the most part, it has nothing to do with a person's level of education, nor their financial status. Do you remember when Big Mac said he knew "intellectually" they bring no good to his life? Yelp, it takes no prisoners. Who would have thought that alcohol was more life threatening than Heroin? Okay, maybe some would, but I'd bet my last dime that opinion would be in the very small minority... minuscule, to say the least. Nevertheless, if King Alcohol is the biggest elephant in the house and there's a hundred times more alcohol abusers than all the other drugs combined, WTH is really going on?

Well, in steps Whitney Houston, ignorance and denial, and Big Mac's question... "Is it when we become seriously ill with some disease that John Hopkins can't cure or is it when a love one or family member we adored has passed this life?"
I'd say yes sir! There's no doubt about it.

Now tell me, why should Whitney Houston stop using drugs? Really, answer that question. I am suggesting what many have a hard time understanding. Is her back against the wall? Is she in jeopardy of losing her job, which would immediately send her to the cheese line? NOPE NOPE AND NOPE. So why should she change? Ponder that for a while. I am suggestiing that a person has to be convinced that their next drink, toke, smoke, toot or poot, will take their life (instantly) or they will convince themselves there's a better day to stop. There's always tomorrow and a better day, but tomorrow seldom comes. Well, not the tomorrow they're thinking of.

But if she ever decides to try again, where does she go for help? No, really, specifically, where does she go and who does she ask for help? Please, do not say a local treatment center. What are they going to tell her? What... that she has a problem and she's killing herself? If I am not completely stupid, I think she already knows that.

AND-AND-AND.... treatment is a joke! Really, if you've never been in rehab, and thus, know little or nothing about it, I am here to tell you that's it's a dismal failure. It's as much of a pimp game as any quick fix diet plan or the ridiculous words that fall from the mouths of prosperity preachers.

That's right, just like the poor souls that drags their tired bones to the shiny feet of the pulpit pimps - seeking help in the most desperate way - so goes the addicted individual. They're frequently on their last leg... so the sanctioned usurpers move in for the kill.

But everybody is doing it Carey, so it must be right - right?

Well, personally, I don't know anybody that became a millionaire by buying a velvet prayer cloth. And, I know hundreds and hundreds of people who have gone to rehab and they didn't stop drinking or doing drug, but they did received a huge medical bill. Many are dead and gone. Listen, if you put ALL your eggs - or those of a loved one - in a treatment center's basket, you're on a fool's errand. Listen, alcohol has no medical use what so ever. It's main goal is to disturb the mind. Some call it getting fu*ked up and having fun. Drugs are made to make a person feel good, and I am here to remind you that they do their job real good. But getting out and/or stop using them is the big bit*h. Nobody knows the troubles I've seen, only a few know my sorrows. But now, I can look back with a smile on my face and say, "What about a time called now" *smile*

Let me tell you something that you may not know. The overwhelming majority of individuals that find themselves struggling with a habit, never kick that habit. That's a fact! So why are you, your uncle Joe, Billy Bob or Whitney Houston any different? If you really want to know, I'll tell you. Well, if you're still reading, open up your mind and come on. But wait, if you're sitting on the fence (don't think you have a problem) you might want to turn your head.

Once a persons has more than a few problems associated with drinking or drugs, they should know their habit is a progressive monster. Meaning... as age increases, so does the problem. Let me make that perfectly clear. Now this is very scary, even if a person stops drinking or doing drugs, the habit continues. Meaning.... once a person starts again, it's like they've never quit. In fact, they will be worse off than before they stopped. Wow! That's ugly, but true. That's why the medical profession has classified it as a disease. It's spreads like cancer and there is no cure. Have you ever noticed a person that stopped using alcohol and/or drugs, that when they started again, things really really got ugly? Well, that's why, the ball kept rolling even though they were not ingesting their drug of choice. YICKS!

So why don't people just stop forever?

It has everything to do with the pain of withdrawal and mental pain in general, which sometimes can take months, if not years to subside. And ignorance (lack of knowledge... when, why, and how to escape the problem) is a huge boogie bear. The dreadful misunderstanding of the addiction process might be the biggest hurdle. More importantly, if any one those areas of concern are not sufficiently and thoroughly understood and addressed, any type of sustained recovery is but a distant dream.

Having said all of that, Whitney is in big trouble. Does anybody have any solutions or opinions? What do you think?

Do you think Big Mac likes walking around disgusted with his self? Do you think he loves smelling his hands and breath that reek of stale cigarettes? He said he could buy a nice size car with the money he spends on cigarettes. Do you believe I loved being addicted for several years? Do you think Whitney and DMX want to be addicts? Do you think Moan would have done something different if he knew Father Time was closer than he thought?

What has been your experience, or that of a loved one? How did they handle their habit?

ADDENDUM: THIS JUST IN! Reggie: My parents smoked like industry. My brother and my sister both smoke. My father had cancer so severe that it almost killed him. The doctors cut as much of it out of him as they could and still leave him alive. My mother had lung cancer surgery. She lost a third of her lung; and yet if you went to her home today, it would smell like cigarette smoke because she refuses to quit.I have never smoked.....won't ever smoke. I hate the habit. It's digusting to me and the thought of cigarettes turns my stomach.

MIZ: All my life my entire family father, uncles, aunts, etc...drank, it was common, it was accepted...i don't really know what will bring about a change...cuz i see myself in them as well. Not addicted, but certainly not trying to give it up either.

And this subject is what I do. Take a look at the next small clip. It's me doing my thang.

"Is it when we become seriously ill with some disease that John Hopkins
can't cure?Is it when a love one or family member we adored has passed this
life?I find myself at 58 years old still smoking cigarettes, I know intellecually that they bring no good to my life" ~ BigMacInPittsburg

It Looks Like Another Love TKO: Sometimes ya gotta let it go. Pain!

2011-06-13T10:20:00.000-05:00

LOVE & PAIN! What are they good for?

I know what Teddy said " I think I better let it go"...

The most dominate factors to my growth have come via my journey through love and pain. Those rewards did not come from the love of others. It was more about my ability to recover the love -- I lost -- for myself.

This post was inspired by:

Kit, http://keepittrill.blogspot.com/
A Smith, http://blackdiamond2008.blogspot.com/
Mizrepresents http://readingwritingblogging.blogspot.com/
Ms. Ann @ The Old Black Church http://theoldblackchurch.blogspot.com/

I love love love personal blogs. I view my blog as personal, but what do I have in common with the above women, and what do they have in common with each other? Well, they all have either lost a loved one, or are in the process of losing one, or has written about the pain of supporting a loved one and letting them go. To some degree, I think everyone has been there.

My father never had to cut the cord from me. He didn't see my deepest struggles. He passed away at an early age.

Some of my greatest memories are the times I spent with my father. I loved to watch him play softball. Those were different days, they were slower times. Drug abuse and fatherless children were not the prevalent topics of discussion. I can remember going to far off places with my father and his softball team. Well, we lived in Illinois, and what seemed like a distant land was nothing more than a small town or a corn field on the other side of the Mississippi River. But to me, it was a place of wonderment. Just as in the movie "The Field Of Dreams" the farmers built it and we played in it. Actually, I went to shag foul balls. Since the ball diamonds were carved out of corn fields or near a corn field, a foul ball or a home run that landed in the corn was worth 5 cents to the luckiest or fastest kid that retrieved the wayward Spalding. I was pretty fast and didn't mind getting scratched by the corn stalks.

After returning home, I shared my bounty with my brothers. Sometimes it would be as much as 1 dollar. A paltry sum by todays standards, but a kings ransom back then. The neighborhood movie cost twenty two cents. A fresh hot bag of popcorn could be had for a nickel, likewise for a small pop. Those were the days, 3 raggety black kids enjoying a day at the movies. I remember the joy on my fathers face. He was proud of me and my brothers, and pleased that we had a great time together.

My father was a man's man. In his last days I had to carry him to the bath room. He was to weak to walk the distance and to proud to take care of his business in his bed. I remember the look on his face - he couldn't do for himself. I still remember my loss for words. He didn't have to bare the pain of seeing me down, yet, I felt the pain of losing him. Although I no longer wear that pain, I remember what I had to go through to put it in it's proper place.

My mother saw me on the ground. She saw the depths of my struggles. I'll get back to her.

Kit, over at Keep it Thrill (above), has shared some of her recent struggles with her son. With the conviction and courage of a lion, she has shared her pain of a mother holding on to a son, who seems to be lost in a storm. She has documented that journey, which at times, has been very disturbing.

Many bloggers have gathered at her blog with words of encouragement and inspiration. One such blogger, A Smith (above), went there to share her story. She told of her lover that was struggling with drug abuse. Her lovers mother told her to run away from her son. It was her opinion that her son would drag A Smith to the ground. Even though Ms. Smith loved this man, she finally realize she had to let him go. She told him she couldn't do it anymore. They broke up and a few months later, her lover committed suicide.

A Smith dropped by Kit's blog to share a little compassion, empathy, and wisdom, on the process of going through. She said, although the ending to her story was not how she would have planned it, and was not without pain, she now believes the thought of letting go was much more painful than being on the other side. She confided that she still misses her guy, but the healing process began when she made the decision to cut the cord. Now there's a possibility for solutions, if only for herself.

How does a mother let go?

I am not a mother so I can't answer that question, but I know how my mother forced me to swim or die. She simply told me she had given it to God, and she was done. She couldn't do it any more.

After my biggest fall, my friends and family told me they had never seen my mother as low as those days of my turmoil. They said she was dying inside. While in my struggle, her feeling and emotions were never at the forefront of my mind. I was a selfish fool. So, in retrospect, it was only fitting that she left me to my own demise. I am grateful that she cut the cord. She told me that my burial was paid and I had to sink or swim. Oh lord, did I sink, but I didn't drown. My gratefulness extends beyoud my obvious rewards, but moreso to the fact that my mother found the courage to release herself from my pain. There's an old school songs that goes... "when something is wrong with my baby, something is wrong with me".

I included Mizrepresents and Ann (above) in this post because both of them have shared their journeys with me. I don't know if they've given any details of their lives so I will refrain from doing so in this post. However, through our common struggles, we've exchanged words of wisdom and words of encouragement. They may not know it, but their words have inspired me to continue to write and to continue to share in a courageous and honest way. I visit their blogs. Other people may not know it, but I know they cry... sometimes.

Maybe one day we will all sit down at the same table and have one big cry. Men do cry, and sometimes, tears come from joy, and hope, and the realization that it's gonna be alright in the morning.

Sometimes I’m up, sometimes I’m down
Oh, yes, Lord
Sometimes I’m almost to de groun’
Oh, yes, Lord

If you get there before I do
Oh, yes, Lord
Tell all-a my friends I’m coming too
Oh, yes, Lord

Nobody knows de trouble I’ve seen
Nobody knows de trouble but Jesus
Nobody knows de trouble I’ve seen
Glory Hallelujah!

YOU CAN'T TURN A HO INTO A HOUSEWIFE - That's what they say

2011-06-12T10:24:00.000-05:00

I threw away all my prophylactics and candy panties, but I've been turned out. Mizrepresents and PPRscribe pimped me. They promised me a cabin in the sky and a Cadillac with a sun roof top, but they only gave me a Jones, a habit, an addiction. They didn't tell me Heroin had nothing on blogging. I've cooked dinner and cleaned my house but I remain a whore.

I woke up in the middle of the night with cold sweats. I staggered to my refrigerator and poured myself a cool drink. I felt someone standing near, it was another john, it was another hit, it was my computer. Like a warm syringe filled with a speed-ball, it winked at me, it blinked at me . I rushed outside and hollered at the moon.

There was no place to hide. I knew I needed to get outside myself. I went for a walk. The warmth of the day felt wonderful, but as I glanced up to take a peek at the sun, a pigeon pooped in my eye. I said, "where the hell did that pigeon come from" . I looked to my left and there was a library. It was the pigeon's home and it was calling my name. I found myself peering through the glass windows, looking at the books inside. Like a drunk waiting for the opening of the corner liquor store, my hands started to shake when my eyes spotted a row of computers.

I go to the place where the feeling awaits me, self destruction's in my hands, oh lord, so stupid minded, help me, I can't help myself. But I'm going crazy, I can't fight it. I am hooked my friends, to that boy who makes slaves out of men.

That boy called Blogging is a mean thang. Oh believe me, help me somebody! I have to withdrawal from this opiate. It's using me like I am a 2dollar ho, and not kissing me in the morning. I have never been a housewife but I am tired of being pimped. Somebody help me.

NOBODY - NOBODY DOES IT BETTER.

2011-06-11T20:45:00.000-05:00

No words needed, just listen. I can just shake my head and say DAMN!

I Wouldn't Pick A Choir Boy To Lead Me Out Of My Storms.

2011-06-11T18:17:00.000-05:00

A Choir Boy Can’t Lead Me Out Of My Storm!

If I lived on an island, I wouldn't concern myself with the opines of others. If I lived on an island, all by myself, I could name my own streets and point them in the “right” direction. I wouldn't have to live in a cabin in the sky, if I lived on an island.

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, the world is less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

It tolls for thee, it tolls for me. Yet, at times, I do live on an island. However, when I go home to my island, I soon hear the voices of the mainland. It's a mean game I play, playing around in my mind. My mind is my castle, my domain and my sanctuary, why do I pass the keys to strange gatekeepers? What are those people, places and things doing for me and to me?

If I didn't look on the other side of the fence, would I come to the conclusion that my grass wasn't as green as "that" grass? More importantly, would I worry about the color of my grass, if I lived on an island, all by myself? But I do live on an island, sometimes. When I go home to my island, a place of comfort in which I live alone, why do I harbor the putrid flavors of the mainland, those other folks, who many, I do not respect?

Not a single soul has walked on my island. No one has walked in my shoes. Who can I ask for help?

A choir boy may be the quintessential image of a pure soul, but can he help me when my storms visit my island? He doesn't have a road map of my island. He has never walked on these street, in these shoes. How could he lead me through the back roads of my mind? He's never been there? He couldn't have ventured my way because this is my island and no one has ever been “here“.

I know another storm is coming, that's inevitable. Should I lock my doors, close my shutters and turn off my mind?

I am left to wonder which way should I go? Should I go that way, his way, her way or their way or let my conscience be my guide? Should I listen to those that have arrived? But, who are they? Or should I listen to those that are going though their storms, and those who have walked on an island that’s very similar to mine?

Is Love Gone?

2011-06-11T09:16:00.000-05:00

Is Love Gone

Within the shadows of your smile, I too have memories.
Good memories
You sheltered me
You covered me
You are my rock.
I too have tears
A home is in the heart
You shut the door
Yesterday, how many yesterdays?
I cry for yesterday.
I too think of tomorrow
Is love like yesterday?
Is it gone forever
Or just out of season.
After the cold of winter,
Can it spring back?
Shattered dreams, yet I dream
A flicker of hope
I miss you
You've been gone
Will you come back?

By Carey

BIG MAC ATTACK, THE ACTOR AND ME: Who’s That Knocking At My Door?

2011-06-10T13:01:00.003-05:00

If I said, “pop goes the weasel” who would know what black movie that came from? Jug would know. What if I said the “Serenity Prayer“, would you know the words to that? BigMacInPittsburg would. What if you saw us all walking down the street, what would you say? Well, personally, from my perspective, I’d say here comes a whole lot of wisdom.

Here we go again, another edition of Who’s That Knock Knock Knock At My Door?

When I last opened my door, Shellie was standing there, dropping all my family secrets, and Hazeleyes preceded her. 25Champ left a note on the door and the Old Black Church (Ms. jjBrock) said, AMEN. Keith, of “Keith’s Space” beat them all to the punch. And now we have Mr. Jug and BigMac. Oh what a tangled web we weave.

Let me start by saying birds of a feather flock together and I don’t suffer fools lightly.

“Okay Carey, tell us, what does that mean to me and you?”

Well, let me go back a few years. One time my daughter found herself in a little trouble at her school and one of the school’s counselors said she was hanging with the wrong crowd. Well, at that time, what the counselor obviously didn’t know was that she was the wrong crowd. I knew it, but he didn’t. She’s know a beautiful mother and a well adjusted young lady. But again, at that time, only a few knew that she could be a fool.

And for those that may not know it, or have never read it, here, in my blog, I’ve been one of the biggest fools on earth. Are you kidding me, who, but a fool robs banks? Come on now, I could list a barrage of my foolish antics which could possibly find my face in the dictionary, under the word - FOOL What? You don’t believe me? What would you call a person who at the age of 18 was strung-out on a major addictive drug? Well, my hand is still raised. But not today. My motto is, What About a Time Called Now?

I said the above to suggest that I recognize fools, and try my best to stay away from them. I mean, as I said, I’ve been a full time fool and that person still rests inside me, dormant right now, but I don’t wish to engage him. You know, if you talk to a fool long enough, there will soon be 2 fools talking. So I’ve made it my business to keep a keen eye, a deep side-eye, out for fools, and their foolish ways. I can do bad all by myself.

Now, I am sure everyone has heard the phrase “Two heads are better than one” - right? Well, what about 3 heads? Would they be better than one? I think so... well... it would depend on whose heads we’re talking about. Here comes Jug and Big Mac.

Listen, these 2 men could men walk with me anywhere. I mean, I am nobody, but I can choose the company I keep, and these 2 guys have showed me their hands. And you know what, I am not a drive-by kind of commenter and neither is Jug. That man will post a book up in your blog and call it a comment. But I like that in him. See, although many of us post under anonymous monikers, I still like to know a little something about the person I am responding to. You know, if I have a little insight into their life, mindset or background, I can assess rather or not I should spend my time replying to them. You know, some folks are on nothing but mess and negativity, which finds them acting a goddamn fool up in your house, and then expects everyone else to act in kind. NO NO, they can miss me with that one. So, over the last year or so, Jug and I have found ourselves on the blog floor, a dance floor, doing what we do best, running our mouths. And let me tell y’all something, that boy has great writing skills. If he’d let me, I’d steal his and give him mine. Well... sometimes.

Now check this, Jug is an actor. Oh yeah, he might even be Mackie or the next up and coming star, but lets look at a few of his words before I move on to Big Mac, and then come back to the actor that goes by the name Jug. His words...

“My household wasn’t a “daily black lesson” kind of place or a “kill whitey” sort of place, but more of a Huxatable “teach through images & examples” kind of place. My Mom taught at predominantly black public schools where I’m from, and I’d help her with her classroom stuff. All of my aunts & uncles, Black, were most of the people that came to the house-or us to theirs. Sly & the Family Stone is the record & reel to reel tape I remember getting the most play when I was a kid. Along with Bill Cosby, the Last Poets & other assorted Motown greats. When it came time to go to college, I chose to go to an HBCU, even though none of them were “preached” in my house…but my mom did go to Southern & I faithfully watched the Bayou Classic every November & my older brother even went to one”

Yeah, a little background that lets me know where he is coming from (to a certain degree). Okay, I’ll let that rest while I move over to my other brother in this struggle, Mr. Big Mac from Pittsburg.

I knew Big Mac and I had an instant bond when he said he loved to take a little nip (a whole lot of nips, of his favorite liquor) and chase a little tail, booty that is. Well, slippin’ and sliddin’ in satin sheets, or at the hideaway hotel, has frequently been my pleasure. But then one day I decided I couldn’t live that life - NO MO, and Big Mac said the same thing. He found a good woman (and so did I) that said, “ I like you and we are going to do this together, but not like you’ve done it in your past”. Now Mac was no fool, he just got caught-up in foolish behavior, however, he knew a good thang when he saw one. So he told his new found love that he’s all in. They’ve been doing their thang for quite some time now, and he will be the first to say that he can’t do life without her.

So Big Mac went out to pay a little dues by working as a drug counselor. The following are some of his words....

“When I pull out my track record as a young person growing up, it's not a pretty picture.
I don't want the young people I encounter today to travel the road I did. So I feel it's my God given responsibility to give them guidance when and wherever possible. Many Men like myself aren't ready or able to take on this role of responsibility. WHY? I surmise it's one factor, laziness! Mental and physical laziness flows throughout our community. And it's not all our fault that this disease of laziness exist, we have been trained to be lazy.”

Ouuuuuweeee, that’s some good stuuf! and you know, that’s one of the things I like about Ol’ Mac Attack, he is not afraid to tell on his self. Listen, many people are too worried, in my opinion, about what others would think of them for their past indiscretions. I say bump that, I did what I did and I have to accept that, and there’s nothing anyone can do to hurt me by their opinions of me. I have to be the one to come to grips with my past behavior, process it, and then move on to a brighter day. I tell people to look behind me to see if there’s any mess back there, because I am not. Granted, some will try to remind us of what we may have left in our wake, but now I hurry to tell them... What About a Time Called Now? And I ask them “What about you? What are you doing these days, changing, growing or living in the past.

Big Mac also shared his pain of losing someone very close to him. His word:

"My father left his earthly life two weeks ago and it was a roller coaster ride for my family and me, it hasn't stop yet.... With me living in Pittsburgh and everyone else residing in the Washington,DC area it's a little difficult for me to do much on the phone. But what I have discovered about me during this period is an emotional side of me that is scary,scary because as a man I now realize how much I have bottled up or painted over emotionally over my life time. I haven't completely figure out all of these emotional roller coasters of mine,but I'm ready for them. I found myself crying on my way to work last week at 5am after putting in a CD of James Cleveland songs, he was one of gospel singers of my youth that I often heard around the house "

Listen, I like that, Big Mac, a man sharing his pain and his tears. I value that type of man.

So Big Mac has paid his dues (and is still paying them) but he moved on to work in the chemical industry at Sherwin Williams. I don’t know what he does there, nor do I care. I mean, I always pause when someone tells me their "title", as if that speaks for their expertise on life’s issues, or their moral values or their critical thinking skills. I don’t really care what a person says when I first meet them, nor the positions they hold. Their walk and their true colors will come to the top - like sweat cream - when the smoke clears. Mac and I don’t always agree on every issue (who in the hell does that?) But I think he will agree that we’ll find a way to openly and honestly find a way to come to an agreeable position, even if we still disagree. You know, I can safely say many people will huff and puff and take their ball home when they don’t get their way, or when others don’t agree with them, but not Big Mac. Now, hold that thought while I let Jug back in the door.

Jud and I met at a movie blog called Shadow and Act http://blogs.indiewire.com/shadowandact

I am a huge movie freak and Jug was over there running his mouth like he’s frequently known to do (me too). But what I liked and noticed about Jug is that if he gives his opinion, he IS going to bring facts to support it. I can't stand when a person tries to slip under the radar and/or tries to rationalize and justify their bogus opinions by saying the trite cover-up “It’s just my opinion”. Hell, what do they want us to do with “that” opinion? What, take it as a fact, pass it on to another person, listen intently like they’re talking about something we should take to the bank, or what? Then, what finds my biggest disdain is when I question the source of their “opinion”. They sometimes act as if I stole their woman and slapped their momma.... "how dare you suggest I should support my opinion with facts and/or concrete evidence, I am just speaking my mind". Well, that's my point. sometimes their limited source of information leads their emotions to a place that allows their mouths to run off before they think, and thinking is one of the hardest activities that man sometimes runs from.

Anyway, Jug writes these long comments because I believe has a need to make himself perfectly clear, and I like that in him. Oh, and he and I frequently piss people off because over at the “black” movie spot. Many of the voices can be heard crying about what the white man has done to us and how they are holding us back in the film industry. Jug has no problem holding up a mirror and telling the moaning crowd to take a deep look to find the source of many of our problems. He does not mind putting some people on blast. And some of y’all know I have no problem voicing my opinion on the ways of white folks and black folks. So in essence, Jug and I have found many ways to stand hand in hand. Btw, “Jug” is not his Christian name, but again, I don’t care. He could be Denzel (probably not because Denzel went to a school up North) but he could be one of the dudes on BET’s The Game or as I said, an up and coming new aspiring star, but I don’t care because that wouldn’t impress me nor move me in the least. I’ve been around every class of individuals that one could strive to be, and for the most part, they all poop, have stankin breath in the morning, have money woes, relationship concerns, mortgages and car notes to pay. So I’ve come to believe that’s it very important to me, to be around, socialize, converse with people that I share a common bond with. They may go off and do what they do, but when we get together and do what we do, I ain’t looking for no fools.

Ladies and Gentlemen and everyone else, because 3 heads are better than one, I present my blog friends Jug and the Big Mac Attack http://bigmacinpittsburgh-jcm1021.blogspot.com/ "Why Life Is Like Living In The Forest"

I like what they do!

And I’ll be back with another installment of Who’s That Knocking At My Door? I wonder who’s next?

Thailand, Fred & Me: Who's That Knocking On My Door?

2011-06-06T13:25:00.000-05:00

Let me start by saying I am leery of white people, okay. Now don’t take that wrong. I was raised around white people (I was born in Iowa), and I am not a racist by any stretch of imagination. Wait, does that have the same feeling/flavor/sting as a white person saying “I have black friends’? Well, all the King’s horses and all the King’s friends couldn’t put Humpty Dumpy back together again. Yeah, figure out how that relates to anything I’ve said. Nevertheless, I am gonna say it, I have white friends - not many - but I do. So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce my next ~~victim~~ blog friend who has been knocking on my door, and he’s a white guy, Fred C.

“Carey, why did you have to tell us he’s a white guy?”

Now that’s a good question, so sit back and take a walk with me. Like the rest of my friends who have found themselves front and center of my blog, with a post written especially for them, Fred, like the others, stopped by this post "Play It Again Sambo, and Kiss Your Ass?"

http://careycarey-carrymehome.blogspot.com/2011/05/bishop-eddie-long-oh-no-whitney-play-it.html

When Fred arrived, he said the following: “(Why am I here? I'm in marriage limbo, with a view of hell, and America just got too weird and expensive for me.) With luck, the whole sordid tale will reveal itself as we go. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better”

Well, maybe Fred will get to know me a little better after I put all his business on display.

I met Fred C. over at one of my favorite political blog sites, "We Are Respectable Negroes" http://wearerespectablenegroes.blogspot.com/. In fact, the site’s host, Chauncey DeVega is my favorite political analyst. My admiration for Chauncey is not rooted (necessarily) in our shared political views, but more so in the way in which he writes. His witticisms, humor, sentence structure and command of the English language is to die for. I could go on about Chauncey, but this is Fred’s party. So anyway, as political debates go, the lines of opposition are frequently drawn deep in the sand. Each side digs in, gets very entranced in their positions, and then, nobody budges. And my daddy told me not to be anybodies fool and don’t play another man’s game. So taking his advice, I generally do not get too involved in the tick-tack-patty-wack of politics. But sometimes I’ll listen on the sidelines and add a little commentary on the ongoing affairs.

One time the blog’s host, Chauncey, even let me do a guest post "The Birth Of A Nation" http://wearerespectablenegroes.blogspot.com/2011/05/final-guest-post-on-trump-hating-on.html. Oh yeah, I was as thrilled as a fat rat in a cheese factory. Now, in walks Fred C of Spin Easy Time blogspot http://spineasytime.blogspot.com/.

Over the months, I had been noticing that Fred’s comments were quite different than most political debaters. His had a ring of openness and honesty that I’ve seldom seen in most political discussions, and it was obvious to me that the man had a wealth of wisdom, and an education. I asked myself, “who is this white guy that’s not afraid to call a spade a spade, and bigoted dumb white folks... bigoted, racist dumb white folks?” Now you know, and he must obviously know, that his penchant for holding up a mirror to some of our evil white brothers, could get a white man barred from the shores of America. But ol’ Fred had that covered. He packed up his stuff and moved to Thailand.

If my memory serves me well, he said he was running from a bad marriage and taxes. However, this is what he also said: “[I am] a reformed lawyer“. Uuuuuum, a reformed lawyer? Okay, Fred showed me his honesty side, cuz we all know that most lawyers are snakes that can’t be trusted as far as we can throw them, but Fred said he’s reformed. So now Fred is a law professor in Thailand ( and I‘ve been in Thailand). Oh, that reminds me, he also said the following:

"One of the things that I explain to my students in every class is that if they play their cards right they can get somewhere in this life. The secret, I tell them, is to have a good idea of where you want to get, keep your eyes on it, and take one step after the other, all in the same direction. I'm a natural born counselor, I am, I was born to give advice to other people. To myself? Not so much. [my] blog is a perfect example. Did you ever see so much meandering in your life? There's no theme, no overriding passion. I wander around a field like a bull who thinks he sees some dandelions, you know, over there. It's not a road map to anywhere in particular. It's sure not a road map to readership or getting paid. It's no surprise, this lack of focus. After all, how many people do you know who have had over fifty jobs in their lives? Probably only one: me.

So Fred isn’t fooling himself and sho ain’t trying to dress to impress, and I like that in him.

But like I said earlier, I am leery of most white folks, and I believe, to a large degree, most blacks understand why I, and we, would feel that way. So I poked around a little more to see why and how Fred was so understanding of the ways of black folks. As with my other ~~victims~~ guests who that found themselves at my front door, I started at his home page and then walked slowly through his jungle. Low and behold, the man wrote that he loved Bobby "Blue" Bland and The Last Poets. What... Bobby “Blue” Bland AND The last poets?!!! I didn’t think anybody knew anything about Bobby “Blue” Bland, but an old school black man like me. Now I am wondering if his “ex” is a big booty, big brown sistah? But this is what he said about The Last Poets:

“Surprisingly light list of the Last Poets on the 'Tube. Shame, really. I haven't checked, but I'm sure that there's lots of Katy Perry (nice tits but so what?), Miley Cyrus (now, really!), Rhiannon or somebody (I saw her on 'Idol, she was chunky and dull), and God knows whoever else is unaccountably popular these days. As the 'Poets said, "wake up, white people!" And everybody else, most people are asleep these days. Listen up! There's tons of great shit out there”

And he didn’t know I was listening.

But listen, before I let Fred out my door, I have to add the following. Remember when I said I did a guest post at “We Are Respectable Negroes”, weeell, I didn’t get many comments/responses so I was a little disappointed and left the following comment:

I said: “**CareyCarey is seen with his head down, a can of beer in hand. He appears to be in a large room but nobody else is around. "Oh well" he says, "charge that to the game". Once more he found himself in a rough crowd. He takes the last swig of his now warm beer, straightens his tie, tips his hat to Chauncey, and walks out the door**

Well, Chauncey and Fred came by to soothe my soul.

Chauncey: “The public if fickle. And it is hard to bottle lightening ;)
good stuff though.

Fred C said: No sweat, Carey, we're listening. It's always nice to read a good man's ideas about truth and principles. In a way, that's what Stagolee was all about, the man lived and died by his principles (whether we can subscribe to them or not). The last verse, as I do the song, sees the Stack-man found guilty of first-degree-murder and sentenced to the electric chair. "Stagolee died at midnight, head held up high, and the last thing he said 'my six-shooter never lied. Oh, and I've known a couple of Black guys who couldn't say motherfucker with a straight face. President Obama is a good actor, so he could probably manage it, but his heart wouldn't be in it.

Y’all will have to read the post to find out the connect to President Obama & motherfucker :-0

But Fred wiped away a few of my tears and he is alright with me. Now the clock on the wall says that’s all. It’s time to say goodbye to Fred and all my friends, but I will be back to see Who’s That Knocking At My Door.

Y’all come back now... ya hear? Who will be next?