Whodidit? The Black or Hispanic Guy, of Course!

Dang.

It's about 11:30 on a Saturday night, and I just finished watching this flick called "Vantage Point." Good as hell movie about different viewpoints as the president is shot by some wack-job terrorist group (not gonna spoil the surprise, but it is an entertaining flick).

Anywho, there is this one "viewpoint", as seen by a tourist played by Forrest Whitaker (a hell of an actor; I really need to check out "The Last King Of Scotland" to witness his Academy-Award winning performance). Now if you are not familiar with Mr. Whitaker, he is a person of color; not that should matter, but well, by the title of this little ditty, u know some negro-ness was coming into play in this bitch somewhere...:)

Anyway, the character Mr. Whitaker plays is a dude on the outs with his wife, and he happens to be in the right/wrong place at the right/wrong time. As to, as mentioned earlier, not to spoil the film for those who didn't see it, he ends up playing a very vital and positive role in the film. It's cool, because he is just a normal guy whose personal life is going to crap, and he takes a vacation just to get his head on right.

Just like anybody might have done, whether they'd be Brown, Peach, or Mocha-skinned (as I've mentioned in earlier posts, there are no "white" folks nor "black" folks; seriously, if I was black, the only way I'd be able to tell where my mouth was is if I smiled; old joke, but makes sense).

So I finish the flick, kiss my spouse "The Franchise" goodnight, and begin to peruse the Internet before I headed over to my much-neglected blog. I hit the NY Daily News website (my hometown paper), and automatically there are a variety of stories about crime, murder, and so on and so forth.

Now take a second...let me set up this scenario for you...

Say there was a police chase in NYC where the suspects are, say, 16 to 18 years old, and in the end both of them are killed.

Automatically, what would be the first thing that would pop in your head?

I am willing to bet that you'd think they were gang members, drug dealers, and so forth, and they were (sigh) Black or Hispanic (or my aforementioned Brown (or beige or burnt, depending on parents or if the "peach" master's DNA happened to pop up 6 generations later).

It's OK to admit it.

I am a Brown/somewhat overdone skinned man, and it is the first thing I'd think.

Yeah, I know...not cool to put down my own peeps like that, as that it's bad enough when "peach/look like you threw up and u r pale"-skinned folks are trained from generation to generation to think that way.

It seems it should be much worse when a fellow "Brownie" (sorry, Girl Scouts) thinks the same.

So, whose fault is that, anyway? I mean, hell, how do we know that Robert and Thomas (first "peach" like names I could think of), two teenagers from, say, the Upper East Side in Manhattan in NYC got bored, sold drugs, and ended up being gunned down?

(Note, well more than likely, chances are the cops wouldn't have shot them unless they had no choice..."brownies" might as well have "please put bullet in my ass here" tattooed on their "bling" when it comes to policemen. Sorry; I know there are good cops, but too many of them abuse their power. That's another post for another day).

Is it the media, who have forgotten how to actually do a news story from all angles, but instead want the most shocking bit of news (or expected, as, well, all us "Brownies" and "Mochas" are robbin', stealin', drug dealin', 52 times over baby daddy losers, when we are on the news it has to be negative) they can get on the air to get your attention? Part of the reason why I didn't pursue journalism once I graduated from college (that, and back in the early 90's, I couldn't afford to be paid hairs stuck in shit for pay in exchange for 60 hours a week, hoping I'd get a spot at a major publication or newspaper).

Or...

Is it the way society wants people to think of minorities, as it is passed on to generation to generation? Ignorance is like getting sneezed on and a big ol' plug of snot hits you in your open mouth while eating a Subway sandwich. U'll catch something, and keep spreading it to the next person (as, well, u sneeze your mucous plug in their mouths). I was taught to distrust white folks; I can't blame my folks, 'cuz they grew up in the segregated south. However, they've met enough assholes from all races to know better in their fairly new older years.

Stereotypes are harder to get rid off than the "Brown" off of Michael Jackson (Vitiligo my ass, Mike!)

Or finally, is it just easier to assume that a certain group of people are always guilty of the worse, because we're all too lazy to find out the truth?

I mean hell, as long as it isn't happening to you or me, you figure it's just another "brutha" or "wetback" or "Chico"whatever who doesn't know any better, right? Good riddance if they get killed or go to jail, correct?

Don't get me wrong...if u r a dumb ass and u break the law, then u deserve to get bent over like a 90 degree angle and violated, OK?

However, and this is a lesson I need to learn as well, so that I can stop my kids from repeating the same mistake, if we all could actually look at things and learn facts about a situation (or in this case, a set of people), you might find out a few bad apples doesn't kill a bunch. The media, entertainment, etc has made billions off of reinforcing guilt on an entire set of people, teaching us to automatically assume that when a crime is committed, it is more than likely being committed by someone other than the majority.

Note...I know statistics show that most violent crimes are committed by minorities...this is, well, sadly, fact.

However...

Have you seen what the AIG's, Fords, GM's, etc have done lately? Billions of dollars wasted, and they come beggin' the Fed for help.

That's a f'ing crime.

At least the few bad "Brownies" and "Mochas" are trying to get their own...

...albeit in not the most honest fashion.

Oh, and I doubt that anyone would assume a minority ordered those AIG paid vacations after they got their first bailout.

For Da Fat Chicks in Da House...

Yeah, I know.

The title is a little f'd up.

First off, before I spew like a overworked porn star, let me say that for the, oh, 1 to 2 readers I have on this thing (if I even have that many), I am sorry that I've been gone the past 15 days or so; the "G" has been discouraged...I had some strange fantasy that somehow I can get folks to actually check out my musing, and not only teach them, make them laugh, blah, blah, blah, but maybe make a little coin as I spend my now nearly 14th month of unemployment.

Silly Negro, cash is for WASPS who use bailouts to fund their penis extensions!

Oh well, I am somewhat over it now, consigning myself to an existence of being a "slave", making another WASP rich, eventually ending up without health insurance and a limp penis.

Wait, I have the penis thing already...happened when my kids showed up.

Let's Move On!

Anyway, I was speaking to "The Franchise" (the nickname I gave my spouse, as that she has diligently been fighting an uphill battle to keep all of the possessions I have foolishly overdrawn my credit for, including this house) about this post, and as that she would have a direct relation to the subject matter...

OH NO HE DIDN'T!

Did I just call my wife a fat chick? Dayaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam! Not a wise thing for someone who has no income at the moment, right?

But don't get your tampon strings in a knot that you can't get pulled out, k?

Here's the deal.

My wife knows she's overweight...hell, medically she's obese. But more on that in a bit, as this article isn't about her, and I think she is a sexy beast anyways...her opinion, with mine running a close 2nd, should be the one that matters.

Hell, I'm overweight...it's a fact. By about, oh, 70 lbs or so. Borderline diabetic, too.

And I hate friggin' needles. Scare the black off of me (and I am a dark-skinned mofo, so that's pretty damned scary).

Ultimately, this little ditty is more of a thank you to the women out there that isn't, say, a size Ethiopian.

White guys that I've met in the past (and know currently) considering anything over a size 6 (in U.S. terms; sometimes I get international folks who find my blog too "American"-ized; if you want to see what "fat ass" equates to in the eyes of the Caucasian male, click here) as a porker.

A major cultural difference if you ask me. Now the stereotype (and every stereotype has some truth to it, sadly...otherwise racism, bigotry, etc would of died long ago) for Black Males (you know, I am gonna go with the term "MSO (Multi-Shades Of) Brown-Folk"; seriously, "black" never made sense, as that well, if one was truly "black" they'd never find themselves once it got dark and would keep bumping into each other like Stevie Wonder in a maze) is that we like our females with a "little more meat" on them. I won't lie, that old rap song "Baby Got Back" does have some merit when it comes to my taste in women...my wife's booty in that skirt she was wearing in the club I met her in nearly 13 years ago would make J-Lo's ass seem like an ass lacking in cushioning...hello! (Oh, the fact that she turned out to be a full-figured model didn't hurt, either).

Her friends said that after I got the courage to talk to her (never picked up a woman EVER in a bar before I spoke to her like 45 minutes before the club closed) that I'd never call her after I got her number...

...I called her like 8 hours later, and we've been together pretty much ever since.

The funny thing is...I dated a woman even more overweight that she was/is...big difference is that my lady has, and still does have, a figure.

It just is a few times bigger than that fabled American 6.

Fat girls (and to a degree, fat guys) just have it shitty. And yeah, I said fat. It is what it is...no politically correct bullshit at the Domain, peeps. Let's see...

They can't find clothes worth shit...it is like there was a law written that says "If u're a fat chick, mumus are your only option...fashion taste is outlawed!" Have you ever popped your head into a store like Lane Bryant here in the States? Holly crap...shit so loud, bright, and tactless Ray Charles would jump out of his grave and say "That ain't right!"

Cute size-6 chicks hang out with them, since they feel that they won't be any competition. This little bit of trickery is, well, just foul. These unfortunate souls are at times referred to as a "DUFF" (Designated Ugly Fat Friend). Not cool...but, this doesn't always work. My wife's "friends" when I met her were a short girl who looked like a younger Estelle Getty (think "Golden Girls") and a skinny size 4 that I wouldn't pick my teeth with. Then again, just my taste, tis all.

Some fat girls thing they are skinny girls, resulting in embarrassing situations. In several societies on this planet, thin is in, and well, there are times where women of bigger girths, while I respecting any bit of self confidence you can muster, obviously have problems with their mirrors. No one, and I mean NO ONE, really needs to see a woman (or a man, for that matter) walking around in clothing that is too tight, too revealing, etc., if you simply don't have the body for it. Now I know that seems that I am buying into society's notion of what attractive is (and I am not, the finishing point is coming), but when I am in a mall, trying to each lunch, and I see a woman with enough fat hanging out to fry a month's worth of the Colonel's Secret Recipe, I have a problem with that.

Which leads me to my closing point....

Ultimately, people spend too much time looking at one is on the outside...including those whose "outsides" are, well, somewhat more expansive than others. It falls under the same category as judging a person by their race, religion, beliefs, sexual orientation, and so forth. Being fat, is well, frankly dangerous, and it does shorten your life. It is one of the few medical conditions that can truly be reversed. My family has a long history of diabetes, and an uncle of mine passed away a couple of years ago due to eating his ass into a grave (stroke, diabetes, eventually his body just said "f-it" and shut down). Also, if you read a couple of posts back, a friend's dad and a former co-worker of mine both died at relatively early ages because they were both fat, had diabetes, and their bodies couldn't take the abuse any more.

I am headed down that same road, and as a father of 2 kids who, despite their sometimes dislike of my actions (at times deservedly so), needs to be around for them for as long as I can, so I got off my ass and started walking. It's a start, cuz I know dead has this bad habit of being, well, permanent.

But for those fat chicks (and guys) out there, if you are happy being your size, if you think you are the shit, and if you have friends, family, and/or someone special who loves you no matter what size...

...eat some potato chips and tell your detractors to stop hatin'.

There is only one you...even if the only size 6 you know is what's left of your foot long hot dog with all the fixin's.

I tell my wife this all the time, in some sort of fashion. 'Cuz u see, I think she's the bomb. I never jumped on her because of her weight, mainly because I'd be a hypocrite if I did. Only YOU can make you happy...I know that I am risking my life at this size, and I'd like to see 40, 50, 60, 70, and if my penis still functions as a waste disposal and an occasional "woody", hit 80 if I am not a burden on my kids.

And, as I am sure she'll yell at me for this (this is why this post is getting her OK before it gets published), she doesn't like herself sometimes because of her weight.

Sigh.

Only YOU can prevent life fires within yourself....only you.

So for the proud fat chicks, peace to you all.

For those who are not so proud, well...

...you still breathe, work towards that size 6...or 8, or wherever you need to be so you feel good.

Just please don't lose that butt....Becky, OH MY God....

Geeks, Ugly Folks, Losers, The Socially Inept- Face It, You're Screwed (Or, well, not screwed most cases)...

Hello.

I wanted to take a little bit of time during this joyous, no job having, broke as hell, about to lose your homes, your husband sleeping with a hermaphrodite-doing (because he figured he was still sort of just hanging with the guys, yet get his "ho, ho, ho" jollies in at the same time) to talk to my fellow citizens to discuss something that I feel is of vital importance (well, I thought it was at the time this idea came to me, but that is another bowl of egg nog and vomit).

While enjoying a fine breakfast at the brand new IHOP in my area (hell, I know people will ask why I was there, as that I haven't worked in over a year; but my lovely, back-broken overworked spouse still tries her damnedest to, oh, once every couple of months or so, to do something nice for her hubby, as well as for, well, herself, as that she deserves some sort of reward for busting her pa-tooty to keep us afloat), I, as is my norm, began to survey the other patrons in the establishment (as well as see if this IHOP location had cute waitresses; yes, I know I am married, and I had no plans for trying to acquire a mistress; one, I love my wife, and two, my wife makes good money and no putang is worth that sort of financial downgrade) who were enjoying in what my humble opinion are the best pancakes money can buy.

As I was getting along with my warm-syrup eatin' pancake gluttony, I saw across the room this middle-aged fellow, extremely average looking, looking at one of those lovely electronic readers, chuckling to himself as he moved his rather thick glasses back onto his nose. His hair was somewhat disheveled, with a bit of grey mixed in as he continued to eat his pancakes, and read whatever he was reading...

Alone.

Now normally I would think nothing of it if it was, say, a mid-summers day and for, hell, all I know his wife was working on this particular day, and he was another schmuck like me who was stuck without a job...

...and who also had expensive toys, like his little item in his hand, probably reading "Harry Potter and His Mommy's Exceptionally Large Clitoris" (or whatever those books are called).

But, it is currently the Christmas season, and despite the economic downturn (ok, we are two upchucks and blown snot across the room from being in a full-blown depression, kids), most folks still pick this time of year to be, well, not in a restaurant eating pancakes and reading electronic books, but rather spending time with folks they normally don't get to see but once a year. So, for a moment, it struck me as odd.

As I turned away my gaze from this sappy fellow and concentrated on feeding my nearly 3 year old preschooler-to-be his breakfast, memories of my high school days came flooding back to me...a fit 180 lb teenager with a total lack of confidence, virginity intact until his first few months of college, and a total social reject loser, sitting at a local restaurant in The Bronx during lunch, alone...

..and listening to a Walkman instead of an electronic book, circa 1980's.

Sigh.

My friends, the universe abhors a vacuum, and the same thing applies to humanity as well.

There will always be rich folks, and there will always be poor folks (with the middle class, well, in the U.S; other countries is is just one extreme to the other, fronting the majority of the debt), despite the lack of sense that a country (like the aforementioned USA) with so much money cannot bloody distribute it's wealth (gotta love the Old, WASP-Y Old Boys Club; there would be no recession/depression/Chaka-Khan-sion/WTF ever-sion if they stopped given the old farts more money after they lost their own...hello AIG?).

There will always be "The Beautiful Ones" (baby, baby, baby!) and the ones who couldn't get a date if they bought a calender. Smart ones and those who will need other dumb ones to change a light bulb.

Not fair, but it is what it is.

Losers, ugly folks, idiots, geeks, and so forth are here to, sadly, be ridiculed, picked on, not touched by women who actually have discernible breasts and a full set of teeth (or men who actually would qualify for at least cute, so not to be sexist on either side of the coin), and basically to be, well, sitting in IHOP's and reading a book that doesn't have pages.

Unless you are, well, Bill "I can buy any piece of tail I wanted, but besides Windows, the only other mistake I made was picking this chick as my wife" Gates, or have "paper" like him, y'all are just screwed; doomed to be either to date/marry someone JUST like you, so that you can restock the loser/social reject/geek species, or to be alone, period.

Now, as in all things, this isn't an absolute fact. I had a friend with the initials "CR", who was, well, shit-stinking ugly. I loved the guy to death, but this dude made Mon-Chi-Chi's looked sexy. But, this dude was so confident in himself, he made himself into a hell of a salesman, with pristine credit, 2 kick-ass houses, and a sicccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccck hot wife. Before he got married, he made a certain garden tool ask for permission to use the term "ho."

He didn't sleep with ugly chicks (well, there were a couple of girls that I wouldn't do with a dead white man's penis); he was a true player in every sense of the word.

Now, of course, money probably helped a great deal (as that he seemed to have plenty of it); but some of these women usually required that you were at least an "8" on the "hottie" scale, as that anything less would bring them down on the social scale. But he re-wrote the playbook, and did it well.

There are always exceptions to every rule.

However, on the most part, it isn't going to happen for you, people.

I was once one of you, and in a lot of ways, I still am. Only people who call my phone are as follows...

1. Mom and Dad
2. My In-Laws
3. Bill Collectors

And No. 3 is the most prominent ringer of my telephone.

I have 2 dear friends who I see maybe once a year. The only time I was "semi-popular" was when I went to parties formed by other lonely folks back in AOL's heyday. Once I got married, they scattered as if one was asked for jury duty.

Hell, ultimately the only reason I blog is to share my skewed view with people who don't know me, and I've had, what...less than 500 visitors so far?

Hell, there's a blog called "Why Women Hate Men" (a very funny blog, BTW) that has had close to a half-million visitors in the 5 months its been up.

As I said, the universe abhors a vacuum.

Sadly, for those who got the crap sperm-shoot of geek/loser/ugly-dom, you just got "puzzle-pieced" in the wrong section of the big picture.

Deal with it, and either buy electronics (like I do), get some lotion and imagine a girlfriend named "Sweet Sue BlowMe", or, well...

Accept who you are and be happy. 'Tis about the only thing you can control in this life.

Peace and KY is not a good substitute for a conversation.

"It's Nothing Personal"...yeah right, bite me!

"It's Nothing Personal."

One of the weakest excuses in human history.

I was in a store, looking at shit that I can no longer afford (i.e. Best Buy, my haven of electronic orgasmic pleasure...well, "Fry's" is better, but hell, guys orgasms are a dime a dozen anyway...let's move on!) where I hear these other shoppers (and by all of the crap they had in their shopping carts, they have, well, JOBS) talking about someone they knew, and the one guy is like ripping the diarrhea spew out of someone they obviously both knew. The back end of the convo I was not eavesdropping on when like this...

"...well John is like a total jack-off...nothing personal against the guy, but damn!"

OK...lesse...so, he's an hand grasping a penis in a up and down motion, with the hope of causing Mount St. Semen's after several strokes (or a couple for you 2 minute fellows), and his friend/co-worker/whatever follows such a blow with "it's nothing personal."

Hey, jacking off is as personal as one can get, don't ya think?

Being compared to the act is even more so.

People should like, well, have the pubes length to speak their minds, without trying to use such a backhanded apology as "nothing personal."

You just called your boss ass spew....but it's nothing personal.

You said that your wife's crotch smells like rotting flesh in 100 degree heat...but hell, that's nothing personal.

You said that your best friend's mother is so fat she uses a refrigerator for a lunchbox...nah, just constructive criticism due to your concern about her slight obesity problem, right?

C'mon, grow some boobies! (hey, everyone says "grow a pair"; I am thinking outside of the box).

If you are going to be some rude, sticky, yellow sputum, don't hide behind some wanna-be save. Just call it as it is!

Hell, if you think your friend's girlfriend is a raving whore, tell him so!

Your mom's pie tastes like that nasty chick you went down on the weekend before Thanksgiving, leave her a note!

Your girlfriend when she goes down on you gets her braces stuck in her short hairs, slap her on the back of her head to let her know (and, beyond ripping a few of those puppies out, setting her free from the man-bush; explain that to the paramedics, huh?)

Ultimately it just English and society's way to use words to soften what may be the truth. If you don't like someone or something about them, why the hell are you trying to protect their feelings?

I mean, hell...if someone told me that I was a big headed, broke ass, fat-bellied, wanna be writer who just wasn't funny and I should go work at McDonald's, well....

I'd tell them to go screw a light socket with a bucket of KFC and hemorrhoid cream on the side.

Nothing personal, of course.

The Un-Politically Correct Domain

You know, domain-ites, if this blog was actually read by more people than my siblings, my Mom (who, being a Devout Christian female, hates my spittle; now if we were a Kentucky family, she'd think my spittle would be sexy...ok, made myself sick there, let's move on!) perhaps folks would of noticed that for the first time in my young blogging career I let more than 48 hours pass when I didn't share my funkydopeflynessoffthefizzhizzlenizzleness observations with the world.

I needed therapy, I'll send you the bill for the bottle of Jack Daniels I can no longer drink because I've been "domesticated" (i.e., married and more mature; OK, married, the mature part was utter bullshit).

Anyway, just for leaving me be, I am going to rap about something that, well, bugs me a little bit...and probably will tick off the few people who bother to check out my blog (and will probably cause another well intentioned phone call from my mom about the subjects I care to share with the world on this thing).

You see, I have a special needs child, who is the most adorable kid EVER (at least in my humble opinion). Yesterday my wife and I went to his future school so he can be evaluated by therapist so we can put together an education plan for the little tyke. While answering a myriad of questions from the 3 ladies in the room, our little "disabled" child started to blow us away by doing things that we didn't think he could do, because, well, he's "special."

The kid has Down Syndrome...but good lord, he, beyond being developmentally delayed, is friggin smart, and the little half-breed (hey, I'm his dad; I can call him that) has been holding out on us.

Totally impressed his future teacher and therapist...and his folks, too.

Now, based on their observations, he is about at the level of an 18 month old kid.

He'll be 3 next month.

Does that mean he'll never do anything in life? Hell no...hell, he could be the first DS president, or a porn star...personally, I am hoping for the porn...his daddy, while he cannot touch, will be more than willing to sit in as a camera man.

(Hey, don't think I'm creepy...i used to change the kid's diapers,and silicone looks so lovely under proper lighting).

Anyway, onto my point.

There was a commercial when I was kid that stated "words hit like a fist...don't hit your kid." Always stuck with me, 'cuz words when I was growing up have had a negative impact on my life...it's the old saying that if you hear something enough times, you'll begin to believe it.

Now my boy I am sure as he goes through school will be picked on, and will be called ignorant shit like "retard" and the like, even though the boy isn't retarded (and even if he was, so what; it is part of who he is; more on that in the finale of this flick).

However, there are facts that even I as his dad I cannot ignore.

He will probably (operative word being PROBABLY; this kid sat up and tried to get out of his crib 5 hours after major heart surgery...I put nothing past that Mofo) be behind other kids. It's a fact; tis the cards he was dealt.

He will be lucky to hit 5 feet, and probably will be under that. So, sadly, he won't be able to save my pitiful New York Knicks...too bad, cuz he can catch and pass like a son-of-a-gun.

In short, my kids is different due to an extra chromosome. It makes him what he is...a little behind mentally, shorter than most kids, and a possible victim for some jackass kid (or kids) in the future.

But he is also the sweetest kid, gives the best kisses and hugs, and has already touched plenty of lives...

And he's just getting started.

He has Down's...it sucks. But I don't treat him any differently than anyone else. I used to, but someone got me over it. If he screws up, he gets punished just like my other knot-headed "normal" boy.

I've booed and covered my ears as a bunch of DS kids sang at a walk to raise funds for the local chapter of the DS support groups here.

They sucked...they were tone deaf; it was like listening to rapid fire farts in a tin can.

What? Was I supposed to be nice and applaud because they have Down's?

They couldn't sing...perhaps they would be better as architects, or artists, or hell, even as a guitar player in a band if they loved music that much.

But just because they were born differently doesn't mean I should treat them with kid's gloves.

Politically correctness is stupid. I don't support being mean spirited and evil to those with disabilities is f'd up, and I don't support it.

But hey, "handicapped" folks...if you can't move your toes because of a disease or accident or whatever, you're crippled.

Does that make me any better than you?

Hell no!

A "crippled" girl was my great heartbreak...has had negative effects on my life even today.

Oh, and last I heard (via my lovely college's alumni magazine) she was a big shot in the publication department of a Fortune 500 company (after graduating with a Journalism Degree), had a couple of kids, and was quite happily married.

While my "walking" ass can't even get a phone call for an interview, and have to hope for unemployment extensions from the Federal Government.

Remember the controversy surrounding last summer's comedy "Tropic Thunder?" The entire "retarded" comments and t-shirt crap?

Certain people really need to stop being so damned sensitive.

There are retarded folks on this planet. It's a fact...due to whatever reason, they got a bad hand of cards. However, as in any other group of people, there are really smart ones that do well in this world, and there are those who push the carts out of the parking lots at your local grocery store.

The wonderful thing about comedy is that it allows folks to laugh at all parts of life...and did anyone ask a "retarded" person if he or she laughed at the inane comments in the film, thinking to themselves "That Ben Stiller is a dumbass!"

I am sure there are a few folks who disabilities out there who took it for what it was...a joke.

People, there are plenty of "normal" folks who are either too lazy, too uninspired, or just don't give a crap to make something better of themselves.

"Normal" and "non-conformity" are a matter of opinion, domain-ites.

There are stupid people, folks with no damned sense, and losers. Just the way it is. And there folks in wheelchairs who can do anything (Umm, FDR, anyone? I believe he had a pretty good job before he passed away...and he didn't do too much jogging), and there are those who sit around feeling sorry for themselves.

Folks who cannot move from the neck down, or from the waist down, or from the penis down...whatever, they have a CRIPPLING condition that 99% likely will be there for the rest of their lives.

But let me throw out some more names here.

Christopher Reeve, who proved in his too shortened life that he was a true "Superman"...and had to friggin breathe through a straw.

Chris Burke, who travels all over the country going to every Down Syndrome walk in the U.S.; a fine actor (and a constantly working one; check out his IMDB info (and the quote on it is one of the funniest I've heard in my lifetime).

But Mr. Reeve was crippled, and Mr Burke has Down's.

A fact is a fact. But they didn't let their shortcomings stop them from changing the world, and how it sees folks like them.

Sort of like Dr. King...or, more recently, the soon to be 44th president of the United States.

Not bad for folks who, supposedly, can only rob, steal, and not support their 42 kids.

Words hit like a fist...remember I mentioned that? Words only hurt for 3 reasons...one, if it is the truth. Two, if you start to believe it is the truth. And finally, if you let them hurt you.

A final point (or 12, knowing me), then I am going to go groom my pubic hairs (they look lovely with jheri curls).

First, I am sure that folks will throw back into my face "well, how come we can't call you 'colored' then" or something like that.

Well, for one (assuming that it would be a white person who said it), Caucasians turn more "colors" than any black person (black and blue, ghostly white, pale and pasty when you croak, etc).

It is an inaccurate description...and, as I mentioned earlier, it's all "PC" crap.

I am a man whose descendants are from Africa. Beyond that...and well, having a deadly weapon in my pants (not due to color or stereotypes; I am just, well, good...lol) I am only different because I am an individual...as is every other Black, White, Hispanic, and so forth person.

Same thing should apply to someone who needs wheels to get around, or due to a bad mix of genetics can't do certain things...they are still individuals.

Finally, the mind is what makes anyone and everyone who they are, what they can accomplish, and what they want it to be, if they choose to use it. A person shouldn't need to be protected by politically correct statements. For either those folks who have a disability, whether it is mental or physical, or its a cultural or lifestyle kind of thing, it is what it is. Hurtful things like the "n" word, or thinking a mentally delayed person is "stupid" or a crippled person is useless just makes the world (if it looks beyond the words) think that the person who's saying it is deathly afraid of it happening to THEM.

Besides, attempting to make a person feel better about inherited (or otherwise) conditions by making "pretty"words ain't gonna, say, make a person get up from their chair and duplicate one of the dance scenes from "Footloose."

In this example, they are crippled...physically.

Doesn't mean they can't conquer the world...

Or run a country...

Or be a great actor...

Or be a cute little nearly 3 year old who shouldn't shock his parents anymore...he's already proved he can do anything...labeled or not.

(Update to da blog on December 10th 2008): I just watched about 25 minutes of "Tropic Thunder" before shutting it off and returning it to Blockbuster. Yes, I can see why folks with or supports of those with disabilities would be offended by the "Simple Jack" thing. However, I stills stand by this blog's words...you are what you believe to be, and while a disability may make things more difficult, it's up to you what type of quality your life is to be. I hope, of course, never to find out what it is like not to walk, or have some sort of brain trauma, or whatever...but looking at my son, and what's he's been through (and what I am sure he'll have to deal with), he'll live...and propser...oh, beside the fact that it was offensive, the movie was just f'ing stupid...:) Ben Stiller, you can do better, bud.

It's Black Thursday, didn't ya know?

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Gayacology...yeah! (Wait A Minute, Band!)

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What a Yippee-Kay Yay Taught Me About Our Differences

So check this out my domain-in-ites...

(Ok, that sucked the teet of a fat man who had too many donuts, true, but hell, it's 11:34 at night, and G. has to get at 8 AM and take his kid to his weekly Catholic Training...Luke, the 79 saints in the Church are strong in you....Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuke)....

Anyway, Let's move on!

I was messing around with my car stereo (as usual, as my wife in her slumber shivers, since she can't stand my rather expensive habit) setting up some radio station presets in it, and as I hit the scan button, I came across the country station she spends most of her commutes listening to. Now, don't get me wrong, I have probably about 300 or so country tracks on my 'pod (if ya with someone for long enough, u'll pick up some of their likes; however, an overweight black man in cowboy boots and a hat is as about as sexy as the present Day Val Kilmer...geech!) so I have nothing against men and women singing about losing their house/trailer/loves/cats/dog/chew/whatever else they sing about in their twangy compositions .

But, while I was listening to one song that I actually liked, it got me to thinking (and when that happens, evil little thoughts leak out...sort of like that little bit of "after-pee" ladies have to catch before they stand up from the toilet).

Music is truly the great segregator on this planet...especially here in the U.S.A.

Most folks, for example, who listen to country (or play it from bars all the way up to the big arenas all over the U.S.) have nothing in common with other non-country listeners. I mean, hell, I was born in Manhattan, and raised in the Bronx for many years.  I WOULD OF HAVE MY TESTICLES SEWN TO MY LIPS IF I WAS CAUGHT LISTENING TO COUNTRY IN THE 1970s and 1980s.

I grew up on R&B and Hip-Hop (not RAP music; trust me, there is a difference), with some Big Hair Pop-Metal (the Bon-Jovi/Warrant/Whitesnake/Poison and the like) mixed in. But it wasn't necessarily a black/white thing, even though during my formative years, it seemed like that to me. Before folks like Leann Rimes, Faith Hill, and the biggest hitter of them all, Garth Brooks came along (biggest seller of all time except for The Beatles) and actually made "New Country" (not that Randy Travis "I lost my dog because my woman fell in love with him" shit from back in the day) a big deal, let's face it, if you were not a country fan, most folks swore you lived in a trailer, thought Dale Earnhart (or in the 1960s/1970s, Richard Petty) was Jesus Christ, and your sister wasn't too far of a reach to be your "first".

Then again, those gangbangin', gun totin', yo mama is a "beeeyotch" fans of hip hop could be just as offended as well.

But beyond the stereotypes, the stories Country Music tells about life in America (I have to admit, country music truly is "American Bread and Born" music; their is nothing else like it in the world) differ from what I, not only as a person of color and a "city boy" (shit, I just realized I left the door open for an insult..."boy", "man of color"...all those who have higher intelligence than, say, plaque, disregard) can relate to. I mean, I don't own a pickup truck (even though I'd love to drive a Honda Ridgeline; at the time of this blog's writing, I thought those were bad ass vehicles), I don't drown my sorrows in whiskey (and no, I am not going to say "Colt 45" you Billy Dee William mofos) and well, my thoughts about America are much, much different than Toby Keith's.

Musical genres like Country Music really, in a way, separate us; whites, blacks, rich, poor, even intelligent/reasonable folks and complete dumb asses blinded by their political affiliations (once again, thank you, Mr. Keith...as i said in a previous blog, The Dixie Chicks were right about our current Commander in Penis-Head). I mean, you expect Caucasian folks who live in small towns to listen to either Classic Rock, Hard Rock, or Country; you figure inner city kids (who are mostly Black) to listen to R&B and Hip-Hop. If the shoes are on the other foot, the Caucasian kids are trying to be "wiggers" and the Black Folks are "selling out."

But what if a Spanish Person listened, to, say, Tim McGraw? Does that make them "Yippe-Kay-Spicks?"

Or a person of Asian descent is rolling down the street listening to T-Pain? Wait a minute, let me warm this up (rubbing my hands like Mr. Miyagi).....

A ChopSueyJapanigga?

Yeah, that was pretty bad (wax on, wax off).

Now I am not trying to offend anyone by using such ignorant terms. But there is a method to my madness.

For 232 years, this supposed "Great Melting Pot" has subconsciously kept the ingredients that makes America what it is on separate shelves in the pantry. Now there is nothing wrong with cultural traditions at all...I am totally for it. But what about learning about different cultures, or music, or languages, or whatever that makes us difference, so that we are more united? Is that so crazy and offensive that it shouldn't happen?

Possibly. 

Perhaps things like Country Music, with the guys wearing the big 10 Gallon hats everywhere (I always wondered if the guys, while having sex, kept the hats on, then as they were about to climax, in the excitement of the moment their big ass hats fell off, covering the girl's face and suffocating them...a "48 Hours" mystery episode suggestion I am going to send in) is designed to keep their fans (predominately Caucasian folks) as "separate", while maintaining the illusion of "equality" intact.

I mean hell, you never see Kanye West at the Academy of Country Music Awards, right? (And for those who do their research, the only reason Jamie Foxx was there last year was because he was roommates and friends in college with the lead singer of Rascal Flatts). It, in the eyes of many, "wouldn't seem right."

Sigh.

I guess I wish that society was like The Grammys. There are a whole bunch of different "categories" there, all in the same room, appreciating their differences, but sharing in the beauty of each. Hell, even the rich folks semi-mingle with the semi-rich folks in the SAME ROOM.

Wow, what a concept.

Oh well...I guess I am a dreamer...but there is hope.

Darius Rucker, formally of Hootie & The Blowfish makes a Mean Country album.

Charley Pride would be proud.

You're Thinking About My Baby, It Don't Matter If You're Black Or White

I have a zebra coalition going on in my household.

I guess the proper term for it would be "mixed"...or "mulatto." Or, as I like to say to myself (for fear that my wife will use my man stuff for microwave experiments; Ball Park Franks, people!)...

The "Bla-Kitey" Duo.

(OK, I am the only one who thinks that's funny).

My 2 sons, aged 6 and 2 (going on 3) are the products of a straight laced white girl who actually had rhythm (until 15 years working in a respected children's hospital , a car accident, and having 2 kids makes it difficult to turn around, much less shake your ass to the latest dance song) made her as fluid as sludge on a winter's day) and myself, the dark chocolate, slightly off kilter, never afraid to stick his size 11 1/2 (you know what they say about men with big feet....their toejams are thicker) in his mouth man of color. Born out of love....the world knows "who da baby daddy is."

Color...hey wait....wrote a blog about it...wanna hear it? Here it go!

You know, it's funny (why do people always say that? I mean...it may be funny to the person who's tells a story, but to the person whose listening it may be like having your pubes pulled out by Hulk Hogan as he body slams you by grabbing your crotch bristles)... My folks grew up in the Jim Crow South, and for a good chunk of my life I was always taught to not trust folks with less melanin than me (maybe that's why I have had more tanned white friends...hmm). My mom even told me point blank...

"Don't Bring a White Woman into my house."

She will deny every saying this, of course (as she has done in the past for the, oh , 3 or 4 times she was actually wrong in our relationship...parents are good at being proven right once you become an adult....f**kers), but that is what she said.

Thank God my spouse won her over...even if it took a conversation about their monthly woman thing to have them bond. (Yeah, I know...no punchline necessary...I'd rather have a V-8...shit, I just made myself sick with that line...damn it!)

Anyways, back in my rearing up in the Bronx, once I got into girls (after I got over my cartoon/Star Wars/Battle of The Planets phase) I, based upon my parent's stern warning, chased after Hispanic young ladies (they are sort of "the other white meat, 'cept cooked medium) and of course "sistas" (who I struck out with more than Reggie Jackson at the plate; that is another blog for another day). It wasn't until I got to college (and was exposed to bands like Queensrÿche and other "white" bands...yup, another cheap pop for a future blog) that the ladies of the Caucasian Clan drew my attention (3rd cheap pop; I promise that will be the last one for this post).

Now, it wasn't like I has a master plan or anything to conquer the white flesh of America. I mean, while I listened to my folks, once I got to college, a whole different world opened up to me, and I eventually ended up marrying a woman who 17 years before we met I'd thought would never happen.

Anyway, 12 years, two Chess Boards for Children and 2 mortgages later, here I am as I approach the beginning of the 5th decade of my life, and I chuckle at times on where I am in my personal life, and how people perceive my family when we are out and about. It's funny (no it isn't, dumb ass, stop saying that!) that, based on where I live, I really don't get that much guff from being married to a white woman.

As a matter of fact, I get more dirty looks in NYC (my hometown), and that is supposed to be the "Great American Melting Pot" (Schoolhouse Rocks!)

I guess interracial relationships causes rashes or something if you toss it into the recipe.

The state I reside in has not had the most glowing history of acceptance for this sort of thing (even though it has gotten somewhat better over the last 20 years, according to my spouse; hell, I am still breathing, right?) And my marriage is not immune to the interracial angle; my spouse and I always rib each other over the black/white thing, and we have said some outrageous things to one another (which I won't repeat here; if I ever make some money off this blog to the point that I can do this for a living I'd hate for my mom to come after me...nothing worse then getting your ass kicked by a 5ft 2 inch black woman).

But, even as I wish for a world that it doesn't matter if the obvious ethnic differences (for example, if my wife's hair is dirty it's obvious (oily, looking like it is screaming for a shower), if my hair (if I had any) got dirty it would be dreadlocks), I know two things will sadly never change:

1. People still will hate me because of my skin (and, well, be jealous because I can play stickball with my penis);

and...

2. The spouse that happens to be white will never truly understand (until the Hispanics take over) what it is like to be a minority.

Oh, there is a "1a"....some folks will hate me even more because I am married to a white woman and have interracial kids. I'm so sorry that I helped "mess up" the gene pool (wait...folks who sleep with their siblings did that...I just added some Hershey's Chocolate Syrup to the mix, tis all).

I am not going to get into the whole skin color thing, 'cuz you can find 10 million arguments on both side of the equation for all that.

As for point 2, I will say this...ever so often, my spouse will, well, be a white woman. She's a wonderful person, and technically being female is almost like being a minority on this planet (hello, WASP Men...Wake me up before you go-go Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo!). But I don't know if it is because she's Republican, or the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree (her mother when she hugged me for the first time said "You are the first black person I've ever hugged!" Now that's small town America; I believe her...there are very few Negroes in the town she grew up in, and the ones there now I am convinced were paid by the Census bureau to make it look good), but on rare, rare occasions, she will act like part of the majority.

What do I mean?

Well, let's face it...if you don't know what it is like to be looked upon like a drug dealer, or to be assumed that you are butt-ass ignorant, or just because you like rap music you are automatically a hood, then you don't get it or truly understand it.

Especially if it has never happened to you.

Now women are looked upon as sex objects, Hispanics (supposedly) steal hubcaps and are on Section 8/Medicaid, Chinese folks stir fry dogs and cats, and so on and so on. Ignorance isn't always based on skin color.

But that ain't the subject of this sermon, so "raspberry" to you, damn it!

So let's say a Mexican woman (who obviously works in a kitchen in some restaurant, right?) marries a black guy (whose name has to end with a "quan"...duh!)

That would make them an interracial couple who steals hubcaps while listening to rap music, washing dishes on the side.

Or, they could be a doctor and a lawyer like "The Cosby Show."

The thing is....

Who the blue hell should care?

Do you question or make assumptions about white couples? Black couples (unless they have 6 kids, looking like they are trying out for "The Jerry Springer Show"...shit, that isn't right...that's for White Trailer Trash, which is the original "white" meat, only covered in mullets and NASCAR logos; black folks got "Maury.") Is that right?

Is it right for me to assume everything in the last paragraph? (Don't worry, I'll flick myself in the 'sack to punish myself for that comment).

Hell, I am guilty of it. I assume when I see a well dress white woman with a big ass rock on her finger, I assume that she has golden knee pads (and a mouth that should be registered with the CIA) and her (has to be white, she couldn't possibly be with a black/Hispanic/Chinese...wait, maybe Chinese...they're the "somewhat" other white meat without MSG) husband is probably doing his black secretary, sending her off to shop to shut her up.

Ooh...double stupidity on me....foul, 2 shots, and the ball to ignorance!

So, to conclude, there are times that I look at my wife, who has carried us for the past year because I haven't been working this year. She's exhausted, tired, grumpy, and not in the mood to play with my stickball bat these days.

I can dig that (and use past sexual experiences with her like "I Love Lucy" reruns...still good, even though it isn't like fresh new comedy). She has my highest respect, even though she is fearful that all we fought for may end up being auctioned off like pootang at a Vegas auction.

Yeah...my baby is a white woman...my boys are products of love. I mean hell, isn't that the point? Can you help who you fall in love with? A person's likes and dislikes, their tastes in the opposite (or same sex....nutter butter...4th plug...sorry, I lied!) is based on how their life's story is written. It's a matter of how your grew up, your surroundings...it is what makes you...well, you.

Let's say I never went to college...or hell, went to a church where the congregation was predominately white. (You know, I gotta stop saying "white." Y'all are like peach ice cream...usually when u're white, you're either scared, about to blow chunks due to too much alcohol, or close to dead...at that point, u r just not that doable or attractive).

Or better yet, supposed all the "sistas" out there stopped saying that I wasn't "black enough" for them?

I'd probably fall right in line, had my dark (but still sexy) kids, and a wife that would look like Halle Berry.

BAAHAAHAAHAA HAA! Naw...she'd probably look like Esther Rolle from "Good Times."

Hmm...there's a rap song by a Caucasian (yay, I didn't use white!) rap group from the late 80's/early 90's called 3rd Bass called "Products of The Environment (a very good song that relates well to the earlier point of, well, being a "product" of where you grew up)." They basically were reared around, ahem, "African-Americans" and became pretty good rappers for the short time they recorded together. One member of the group, MC Serch, did marry, well, a Caucasian female.

Now you'd figure that, hell, he used an "African-American" music genre to make some money (both albums they put out went gold, which for the time was a huge amount for a rap album), why not try to "get with" some "sistas" or a Hispanic female?

While he was a "Product Of His Environment" he fell in love with, well, I assume a woman of his ethnic and religious choice (MC Serch is Jewish).

His choice, his love.

Isn't that the point?

Yo Michael J, take the song from here.

When White Girls and Boys Go Black...Next on Fox!

I was driving down the road a couple of weeks back, listening to my somewhat loud car stereo, on my way to do something of some relevance (at least in my mind I was, as that I haven't worked in 11 months, and I was probably going to get something to fatten myself and become the world's first all dark-meat turkey), when I passed a local high school, just about when the kids were about to get out for the day.

As I happened to turn my head (just cuz, well, I can still do it without arthritis), I saw a few kids of the Caucasian persuasion talking to each other, iPods blasting in one ear, the other earpiece dangling by their sides. If memory serves (thanks, Spock), there was a cute white girl surrounded by 3 white guys. They were dressed up in current day, Hip-Hop inspired gear, and between the various hand motions, caps with the bills turned to the side, and pants that looks like were picked out by random, explaining the 2x the correct size dimensions, I started to chuckle to myself, as I continued to drive out of the school zone towards my hopefully achieved cellulite-induced orgasms (I ended up at Taco Bell...that Volcano Taco they have out now is tastier than a clean g-spot entrance).

About 10 minutes later I am chomping down on one these lovely bits of death food, when a question happened to pop into my rather large cranium (not the large head I would of preferred, but hey, a woman can at least tell if I am excited).

As I chomped down and felt that volcano sauce seep down my throat like a Jenna Jameson instruction video, the question completely formed in my brain, thinking about that high school I passed by, and those kids...

When did White folks stop being...well, white folks?

Now here at "The Domain" my goal is to try so smash a few pre-conceived notions about folks here in the U.S. and abroad. As a big music fan, you will find everything from traditional "Black Music" like Hip-Hop and R&B (I'll be going off on how music sucks ass today at a later date), and "White" Music like Classic/Modern Rock, Heavy Metal, and for the old wrinkly crowd (stereotypically, of course), some classical and instrumentals residing on my mp3 player. The nice thing about leaving and going away to college back when having a box and a CD player made you look rich is that it opened up my mind to a different world...music and people (especially, well, women of other cultures...here's another cheap plug for an upcoming blog...stay tuned!)

But over the past, say, 15-20 years or so, perceived "Black Culture" (especially with today's Hip-Hop Artists like T.I., Lil' Jon, T-Pain and the like, and actually sort of even started by older artists like Jay-Z, Digital Underground, and Pop-Rap acts like Tone-Loc and Young M.C.) have gotten into white boys and girls, as what was once uncool and "colored" is now the cool thing to do.

This phenomenon has prompted me to pull out one of my (shamefully so) terms of endearment...

"The W*gger Revolution."

Yeah, I went there. As the motto of this blog states up top...I offer you "Grub For Your Mind.

Sometimes that grub may be liver with a side of Castor Oil.

Now, for those who may not be familiar with this lovely term, a "w*gger" is pretty much a white girl or boy, predominately those who may have not seen a black person before junior high, who after seeing (or assuming) that black culture is the "new cool", adapts the stereotypical mannerism, music, dress, and culture of what is perceived as how a person of African Descent is supposed to carry themselves.

(Quick note...as that I have never been to Africa, I am going to assume that originators like Run-D.M.C. didn't get their start back in the villages of that great continent...at least I am pretty confident in that. Oh, this doesn't apply to Hispanics either, cuz, well, they won't be the majority until the middle of this century.)

Now, I have no problem with different cultures adapting and liking things that they traditionally would not have been exposed to. Hell, that's been going on since Chuck Berry created Rock N' Roll, and white folks stole it, flipped it, and created Elvis "The Original W*gger" Presley (of whom I have plenty of his music on the 'pod; I give credit to where credit is due). Folks are folks...we are all born, then we all die.

Sort of how it all works.

But it sort of makes me laugh (if not perturbs me sometimes) when a white kid comes up to me and says "What up, dawg?" as if that is the only language I can possibly understand. Or just because you listen to Hip-Hop, a white kid can say that your friend is "yo' n*gger" (and note, I don't agree with when black folks get mad when white folks use it as a term of endearment; we've got the copyright of continuing that ignorance, and 50 Cent would be worth a quarter if he couldn't use that in his lyrics), but half the time they won't dare date someone of a different race (unless he was dumber than a follicle on George W. Bush's head). Mother And Father Richie Rich-Pants wouldn't take too kindly to their Harvard-bound Son Bobby if he used that at a cocktail reception, now would they?

Now I've noticed that a lot of white girls who follow the culture/music/etc will be more open to dating a black young man (or Hispanic, taking out the Mexicans, the "other white meat") than the white boys with the caps blown to the side by Hurricane-Force winds would date a black girl. Hell, if they like the guy for the guy, and not because they look like T.I., giving them "Whatever You Like" (well, actually mean "They Wanted", but it wouldn't be the correct title of the song) and it's simply to be coo cuz they got the hottest "brutha" in school, that is cool with me. But if they are looking to, say, get pregnant because "mixed babies are so pretty" (I have heard this more than once)...

That's just wrong.

Now, if you are simply more attracted to a White/Black/Hispanic/same sex/HIV-Positive/person with 3 teeth trying to smile person, that is your right in this fine country that we reside in. And it is healthy, in my humble opinion, to keep an open mind about anyone and everyone you meet; if we take the time and learn about each other, perhaps things like hate crimes, or at the very least, ignorance, will go away. That's been my philosophy for over 39 years.

But...and this is for all those 14 to 18 year old's who have the spinning wheels, 15 inch subs blaring major bass and hip hop kinda folks, if you are going to get the "w*igger-notion" a little request from me and other people of color that might get a little irritated by your choice...

1. If you are going to dip into the "Ebonics Dictionary", drop the attempt at supposed "Black" inflections when you use the terms, or in speaking in general. A lot of times you sound like Jim Nabors watching too many episodes of "Good Times", or more recently, HBO's "Oz".

2. White girls, if you get knocked up, please do not say "my baby daddy." That is stereotypically reserved.

3. Fellas, don't walk like you have polio. FDR will come up out of his grave and whoop your ass.

4. Ultimately, just enjoy the culture....actually read about it, learn things, be more accepting.

5. And finally, whatever you do, please don't say "that's my n*gger." While I am sure that most of you mean no harm (as you were taught by the sometimes dumb-assed rapping world that this term is cool to describe a friend; it's about as bad as using the word that rhymes with "runt" for your mother, wife, or sister...well, a sister may fall into that sometimes), some radical brother who thinks Malcolm X is the Messiah will stomp your ass back to the golf course they assume you belong at.

When it comes down to it, my question about "when did white folks stop being white folks" is really silly...I mean, does a Cacasian baby, when born, automatically want to be the evil, "blue-eyed cracker devil", golfing, eggs benedict eating enemy? Does a child of color when born automatically wish to be in the Crips or Bloods (west coast and permeating throughout the country), speak broken English, father (or mother) 92 babies and move their heads in a circular motion (women) when angry? How about Mexicans?

Never mind, they are going to run this country, and I will be old by then...don't want to piss them off.

Ultimately, all this stuff is TAUGHT to someone when they are young...a seed is planted, one if continually watered by ignorance will be next to impossible to grow out.

That is where the "Revolution" comes into play. What was once assume as the way things are with black folks is now "cool", but is assumed as all there is.

Sucks flat boobies with knobs for nipples, I say.

As I depart, two quick personal anecdotes...

I have a friend named "CH" a Caucasian female who is, well, "blacker" than I am. She used to tell me to brush my hair because, while white people may not notice if I decided to skip freshening my appearance, but SHE can. I always thought she was humorous, and would a fine example of "w*ggerness." She lived on the east coast, and she is NOT someone who you would want angry with you (and I am sure when she reads this post, I will need to buy an iron cup for my line and tackles). But she truly has picked up all of the stereotypical mannerisms of a woman of color.

My point concerning her is this...while most times I find her very, very funny (and quite cool people), I guess what bothers me leads me into anecdote No. 2...

Back in college I was a DJ, handling the R&B evening shift for my school on Wednesday Nights. A member of the early version of the "Revolution" (and we ain't talkin' the "Let's Go Crazy" version) called into the station and asked me if I was a white guy, sounding like she just got off the "Oh, No You Didn't" bus. I asked her why she thought that way, and she replied "because you sound white."

This bugged me a little, because my first thought was "just because I can complete a sentence I automatically have to be a white guy?" Anyway, being 21 at the time (and still reeling from the "great breakup" of my life (another blog, another several stiff drinks), I forgot about the comment, and I ended up meeting this girl to see if I could at least reinforce that whole "black guy" stereotype in the privacy of my dorm room.

2 days later I was waiting downstairs for her to show up. She walks in the door, and I was stunned that she was a white girl...in skin color only. Had the Black/Hispanic/East Coast hairstyle of the time, with the clothes, the jewelry, etc. And she swore that using broken English was the cool thing to do. Adapted the "ASSumed" inflection of the voice as well, which set me off...

And made me as ignorant as she was when she called me that night.

At the time, I simply wanted ass (which by the way, after about 2 hours in my room, I am glad I didn't get, because she turned out to be bigger "bait" than what's found on the Fishing Channel).

But in hindsight, I guess the big pet peeve (leaving my aforementioned friend out of this conclusion) is that when these young folk from the Caucasian persuasion pick up this culture, they think that is all we can be, or we cannot evolve beyond Hip-Hop, or gang culture, or "What Up, Dawg?" Personally I could care less if non-blacks picked up on it...if they bothered to look beyond it, and learn about the entire story, and how it works into the grand culture of society.

My boys, as I depart, actually have an interesting choice as they grow up and are influenced by both sides of the coin based on their parents.

Will they be their own men, or fall into "The Revolution?"

Messed up question...as long as they are just one woman's "baby daddy" and they are married, they can rock on or rap-along, or any extreme in-between.

Marble Cake, anyone? That would be "a'ight."

Too Much "Bitch"in

Lawd....chili sauce! (Jerome, bring me a mirror...if you know where I got this from, you are a child of the 80s).

The domain is taking a bit of a stretch during the historic week here in the good ol' US of A.  I just downed a glass of delicious Tradewinds Ice Tea (it's sex in a glass without the nasty aftertaste, I tell ya!) and I am now going to move on from politics...for the moment, anyway. 

Today, I want to bring up a subject that happened to cross my mind recently (actually, it crossed after I noticed a woman while at lunch today, who can only be described in that great R&B track from Beyoncé's and her assistant back up singers (better know as Destiny's Child) as "Bootylicious.").  

You see, I have a bad habit of using a particular phrase in a variety of ways when it comes to women, or in some cases, stereotypical behavior that supposedly would be considered "women-like."    I do it waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too often, and my mama (if she ever reads these spewings) would backslap me like a pimp in the 70's if she caught me.  That wouldn't be cool, as that my mom is like 5 foot nothin' and getting clocked by someone who can't reach the glasses in her cupboard at nearly 40 years old just ain't cool.

So, getting back to the attractive woman I saw during lunch, that bad habit popped back into my dome, and immediately came out of my mouth like a well-timed money shot...

"Dayam, that is a fine ass bitch!"

Ugh.

Now over the past 10 years of my existence, I have used the word "bitch" (and yes, unlike other of the "7 words you cannot say on TV" - Carlin, R.I.P, it is an actual word; read on) anytime I wish to describe a woman in a variety of ways, or to point out any feminine weakness I may see in a male or, primarily, in a gay male.  

Grabbing the ol' dictionary, "Bitch" is actually a word (unlike the other colorful metaphors I am guilty of using, especially in front of the 6 year old when the Yankees are losing) to describe a female canine (which I am sure that most of my intelligent readers already knew that...yeah, that was an ass kiss, but I am trying to get a readership here).  So, if you look at what I got my "branch in da pants" (only my spouse gets the full big oak tree, thank you) reaction after seeing the attractive brunette at lunch (yeah, there goes that black guy scoping a white woman...another blog, another time), and taking the actual definition (without the slang connotation) of the word "bitch", well...

I had my head turned by, well, an animal that can lick its own anus...and find it tasty.

Hmm...sort of kills the whole affair when you think about it, doesn't it?

Now my guilt of using the word "bitch" way too frequently in the last several years is a combination of sad excuses and lack of good sense and respect on my part.  Perhaps others may be able to relate to this...or, well, I am a toejam sandwich for being such a "man."

When it comes to gay men (and I have nothing against them, just don't agree with the lifestyle; I am sure their love is real and pure to them, but for me personally, I can't stare at a man's hairy butt and find that sexy), I have referred to them frequently as "bitches", due to their at times feminine mannerisms.  One of my more heinous phrases whenever I notice a gay male (or a man who may not be gay but "looks" gay, which is like saying a person "looks" stupid, then they make you the "stupid winner of the week) is...

"Look at that Bitch-Ass Bitch!"

Or, if a woman is crazy (or acts as such), or generally mean or cruel, I reply with the classic male response...

"That Bitch is Crazy!"

 

OR...

"You are such a bitch!"

Complainers...

"Stop your uber bitching!" or "Dude, stop yer bitchin!"

Statements likes these that fly out of my mouth like accidently spit into someone's eye I am sure a lot of men (and some women...more on that later) are guilty of saying in some variation (cultural adjustments can be applied, i.e. the "dude" reference).

However, let's get back to the actual meaning of "bitch."  Looking at my earlier translation, logically we are not using the term correctly, if trying to stick with the English language.  Let's translate my previous examples  to the literal definition, shall we?

Gay men...

"Look at that Female Dog-Donkey Like, umm, Female Dog."

Women who are mean, cruel, hormonal, etc...

"You are such a...female canine!" (Note, for some women whose looks are less than, say, "pristine", this might be an appropriate insult).

Complainers...

"Stop your female cocker spaniel-ing!"

Huh?

Now I remember seeing the movie "Dolores Claiborne" with Kathy Bates and Jennifer Jason-Leigh, and the one line that has stuck with me 13 years after the flick came out was this...

"Sometimes being a bitch is the only thing a woman has hold onto."

Now the reason I bring that up is that it leads me into, what my opinion (worthless as it may be) is when it comes to using the word "bitch".   One, I shouldn't use it....nor most men, to be honest.  That isn't to say that the stereotypical descritption should disappear, however.

Let's "Dolores Claiborne" it, and go with this...

Women should have the exclusive copyright on "bitch"-ology.

Acting like the stereotype as a defense mechanism, or to use the insult against each other, or those "men" who just don't handle their business.

You ladies have mastered what the stereotypical "bitch" should be, if not taking it in the literal sense.  In one of my earlier posts, I mentioned why women ruled the world (mostly intelligence, as well as having a monopoly on that one "item" men can't live without). However, as that most ladies can (if pushed by, more than likely, men) become the stereotypical "bitch", I feel they should be only one who should use the word.

Best friend stole your man?

She's a bitch!

Gay guy dresses better than you?

That Little Beeeyotch! (this was a Snoop Dogg alert!)

Husband too afraid to get rats out of the garage (like a certain good looking African-American Blogger was last fall, and had to get the Marine next door to get them out)?

B-I-T-C-H, and check your testicles at the door!

It's all relative to some idiot who wanted to put down one group of people for the other...and it stuck, instead of the literal meaning of what the word was for in the first place.

Gay Men, I think you should have the secondary "copyright" on the phrase as well.

"Oh Hell No!  That Bitch ain't trying to steal my man!" (More predominately used by African-American Gay males and straight females, but you get my point).

In a perfect world, it would be nice if we were able to avoid insults period, even if you think you are trying to be "hip", ethnic (as I was semi-guilty of,  as that a lot of black men are bad in using the term in a derogatory fashion; hell, without the word, rap music would of died 15 years ago), or whatever ego-saving reason you would do something like this.  But, I think the people who most of the time this term is directed to should be the exclusive ones to use it.

So, while I can't promise to quit using it overnight, I gotta work on not being so piggish (even though if I still see a good looking woman, I'll comment on it.  My wife is pretty cool about that stuff, she know my "oak tree" is planted in her backyard; hold on, that came out wrong...u get my meaning, damn it!) I'll go with "Bootylicious" and "woman" instead...it'll take me a while, but I'll work on it.

Oh, for those men who don't respect women, and use it as frequently as I do...I got a challenge for you....

Go up to Layla Ali (you know, the daughter of the Greatest Boxer of all time, and a champion herself) and call her a bitch.

See how much your dental bill ends up being after she kicks your ass.