Friday, March 9, 2012


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 @ . 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 @ 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...

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*.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012


 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.

Monday, March 5, 2012

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

ADDENDUM!  Originally posted several months ago.  7 months after this post Whitney is found dead. RIP Ms. Houston. 

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.

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.

"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

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

Sunday, March 4, 2012


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.