About The Funk...

Observational Spittle from the mind of a man of color in his 40s, without the color added (most times). Come in, laugh, and you may learn something...

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Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Boom, Boom, Let's shake The Human Room

There was a big boom in Beantown today.

And I saw a lot of blood all over the streets.

I saw a dude in a wheelchair with what was left of his tibia hanging out in the dust and the sun.

A lot of "what the fuck"s" flew out as I spent part of my evening watching the media, as is their want, play explosions over and over again.

And somewhere on the planet, some sick person or persons watched it all, and smiled.

A friend of mine said she wishes we can reboot it all.

It is sad that we are not like a computer....when there is a virus, you get what is needed to be done and remove that bitch.

But when the virus is ourselves, we have to want to be cured, and a simple reboot will not suffice.

Man, I wish we weren't this stupid.

It is like when I tell my now pre-teen son, who is beginning to listen to his private parts and talk to girls.  You see, he doesn't listen to what I or his mother says, a permanent "y'all don't know shit" look on his face.

It'll get worse, from what my other friends with grown kids tell me.

But we are all like that petulant child, aren't we?  We all figure that we know what is right or wrong, who is cool or not cool, who is an embarrassment and who fits into our "inner circle."

We don't talk anymore...we do the social media, superhighway shuffle, instead of sitting on some porch somewhere (or, in my history, a "stoop" and just chat.

The forgotten art form...much like it is in the United States' capital.

Like a child who doesn't listen.

Some kids in Beantown heard a big boom...got too close to it.

One, to my understanding, when to heaven because they got to close to the sound of the boom.

I still see that tibia sticking out of that poor soul's leg.

The hatred that is the virus is still rampant, and growing stronger.

When I go get bread, will I come back and be proud of my son talking to a girl, despite that petulance he displays at times?

Will he be able to grow up...or I grow old to see him grow up, with all of my body parts and facilities intact?

Boom, Boom.

It gets louder...and we never know when the next drum will sound.

We need to listen to a different tune in the human room.

But, as it has been for thousands of years, we only hear what song we wish to listen to.

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