Wow, there's a Negro choice, too?

I hate fat free pretzels.

Actually, that's utter bull poopies, cuz I just at 27 of them. Yeah, I counted the mofo's, cuz, well, I gotta do that now. In the last few months, I've seen pictures of me @ 28, 30, and 32.

I was a sexy bitch back then.

Good looking, skin wasn't looking like someone pee'd all over it, muscles were there, and I had an ass that would turn a gay preacher into a sinner (thanks for the lyric, Mr. Nelson). But now, hell, I'd wouldn't do me if I was a mobster ordered on a hit.

So diets suck butt cream.

But anywho, enough about moi.

About 4 days before this post (I think that's right; my sleep apnea has wrecked my mind so much, I couldn't name you ONE teacher or professor I had in my 16 years of schooling...wait, there was Mr. Cormincan, English professor...he looked like George Carlin (RIP) if he was a child molester smoking crack and sipping Yoo-Hoo's), I saw a news story about fellow folks of color getting shitty because on the upcoming census, one of the choices defining we dark-folks was the term "Negro." Now, this caused my eye to raise slightly, as I was on a hot streak of a rip-off pop-a-shot video game I was playing on my iPhone.

(Sadly, I am not a gamer; I'm more of a farter with rhythm, but that's another post for another day).

Anyway, all the popular so-called "leaders" (last time I checked, bout the only time black folks have exercised their right to vote was when B-Obama showed up, so I must of missed their election) of we "African-Americans" were all in an uproar, demanding that, oh, 300 million census documents have the term "Negro" removed.

Damn...that's a hell of a job @ Fed-Ex Kinkos/Office, or whatever it's called these days.

So after I finished playing my basketball game (as well as dispelling that lovely rumor that my melanin kind can actually shoot a basketball), I paid a little more attention to the story, then sat back for a moment to ponder this lovely little bit of information. It is amazing how much time you have to think when, well, you haven't collected a check for 20 out of the past 25 months or so.

(Damn it, that was about me, wasn't it? Son of a biscuit and gravy...sorry about that).

Now, I was born in 1969, right after Dr. King was "rudely dispatched", and about 2 years after interracial marriage (oh shit...I just realize my wife was white...well damn it, that explains the sunburn!) became legal in the U.S. I have been called "nigger" exactly twice...once while driving in Columbus OH, and I think one time walking in who knows where city back in my "G is a mad ho" tour of the mid 90's. Growing up in the Bronx, of course, "my nigga" was used frequently amongst my associates, and most of my life it, well, never truly bothered me. I rarely used it (actually I take that back, I never did use it, because my parents, who grew up in the Deep South during the time where hoses were used on them instead of watering yards and washing cars) would of, to quote the former wrestler Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, "whooped my candy ass!" Now, with my just discovered her name wasn't "Carliqua"wife, and my degenerating sense of humor, I have been guilty of throwing the "n" word around in, well I admit, a poorly chosen way to be amusing at times. My wife is no racist (unless she had a "pity the dark child" moment when she married me) so she let it roll off, as if it was my right to use the word.

So, after the story, I sat down and tried to see what the relevance of this whole thing was, and why it was causing an uproar. As that I have never had a fire hose turned on me for any reason, or been beaten because I reflect light better than Caucasians, I probably didn't have as strong of a reaction as, say, my mother, father, and the rest of their generation (and the surviving generation before them, which is, sadly, dwindling) would, and bluntly, should have.

Then I thought about a post I did in 2008 about being "politically correct", and understanding that, well, words are deadly things at times, and God knows I've been cut by them more than I can count, ultimately it is up to the person that the words are being hurled towards to let them hurt you or not (unless there is truth in them, which, well, is an unavoidable pain if it is a sensitive subject).

So here I sit, divided on this word that has caused a lot of damage in this "United" States (I am sorry, we haven't been United except when we kicked the poor Indians off their own damned land), trying to see its relevance, from how this story made the news (anything that sucks always get front and center, doesn't it?) and why, ultimately, folks can't just say "screw it" and move on.

My oldest son asked me today why did people of different races had to be divided, and had to do things separately.

7 years old...didn't think I had to broach this subject this quickly.

My son is Negro (dictionary meaning: "a member of a dark-skinned group of peoples originally native to Africa south of the Sahara) and Caucasian ( often offensive of or relating to one of the traditional divisions of humankind, covering a broad group of peoples from Europe, western Asia, and parts of India and North Africa).

I tried to break it down the best way I could.

He said "that's so stupid."

Exactly...just like getting bent over a word, where, while understandably hurtful, and those who have had the power for 233 semi-odd years don't quite understand why it is, should be just let go of.

Then again, that is as likely to happen as FedEx Office finding the time to change the census forms.

Damn it, Now I gotta get a bowl of cereal...stupid deep thoughts at 1:17 in the morning.