Monthly Archives: November 2009

Busting her Nigger Cherry

For all you haters of the infamous “N-word”, you have my apologies for the garish title to this note. Somehow, a more polite title did not seem to do this note justice.

This week, my childhood best friend of 20 years was confronted with a situation a black person living in the South will surely face at one point or another. Her Facebook status read:

“So what do you do, as an accomplished educated black person, when you are called the n-word in traffic by a white man? Do you follow him, write down his tag number, pull in some favors from our friends in blue, and try to destroy his life after cussin him out…..or do you keep driving. I am so furious, I think my day is shot. Oh, and this was the first time I have EVER been called that.”

The reactions to her query ranged from typical to amusing.

“Pray for his ignorant soul”
“Ignore him and don’t waste your precious energy”
“You’re above him in so many ways”

Blah, blah.

My personal favorites were:

You say F*** YOU BIGOT!!!!!! As loud as you can, and waste no more time on ignorance…

AND

You shoulda got out the car and kicked his bit** a**, and then prayed for him and ask the lord to forgive you for causing bodily harm to a fellow brother.

In short, your reaction depends on the stuff that you’re made of; what you’re core beliefs truly are. Some of the more “Christ-like” responses urged my friend to forgive, pray and move on. Others, like the ones referenced above, urged her to reach out and offer a verbal/physical smack down. Getting called a nigger in traffic (or anywhere else), really is like getting slapped in the face. What do you do when someone slaps you in the face? Do you reach out and smack the other person back, or do you turn the other cheek as the Bible instructs? It depends on if you’re a worm or a snake. A snake will strike back if it’s stepped on, and a worm will be crushed under the same pressure. Worms catch fish, snakes don’t. I’m not here to judge the merits of worms and snakes. As far as I’m concerned, they both serve a useful purpose in nature. People with a “worm mentality” can be used to draw people in, to win friends and allies. You can’t catch fish (or people for the purposes of this metaphor), with a “snake mentality”, but darn it if you won’t watch where you’re stepping next time you come across one!

For my part, I was surprised it took my friend this long to get called a nigger, living where we do. She’s been in Atlanta nearly as long as I have (9 years) and I was called a nigger within the first 3 months of living here.

Marshall and I were driving through Sandy Springs one sunny afternoon, when he happened to take a wrong turn on the word. Marshall held up his hand in apology to the driver behind us, and I mouthed a silent “sorry” as well. The guy sped up to our window and yelled:

“Yew niggers!!!” and sped off.

We were gobsmacked. We looked at each other and eventually had to laugh. Welcome to Atlanta!

The other thing I wonder about in my friend’s statement is her assertion that “this was the first time she had ever been called that”. I could be wrong, but I highly doubt that. She went to an HBCU, same as I did, and I am sure in the midst of one conversation or another, someone has uttered the phrase “nigger, please” in response to something she’s said. I am equally sure at some point in time she’s called someone else a nigger…or excuse me “nigga”, because you know, it makes a difference. Is it the word, or the source that’s the cause of all this bewilderment?

There’s some statistic out there that says when a black man is shot, 90% of the time another black man is on the other side of the gun. I’m almost certain that when a black man gets called a nigger, 98% of the time another black man is the one doing the calling. If we don’t want other races calling us “the n-word” maybe it should start with us.

In the meantime, I leave my friend with the comfort and assurance that this will not be the last time she gets called out her name, no matter how educated accomplished, or beautiful she may be. The ignorant, like the poor, will be with us always.

Look here African Ladies – Let me tell you something

Hmmm. Let me tell you something about motherhood and marriage that they don’t tell you when you are growing up. I’m about to go on a rant here, so be warned! You won’t make it to the end. I have much to say.

Don’t listen to you parents and grandparents!! They are all liars and crooks; and that includes any meddling aunties and “aunties” in your life. These people. They want you to get married and have kids so quickly, but they lie to you with their silence.Let me tell you something African ladies. Your friends and family don’t want you to have kids because it is a joy. it is because they want revenge! They want you to suffer as they have suffered.

Marriage. Tweeeeaaa! Nobody tells you that when you get married, that guy that kept his house/dorm room so clean suddenly becomes a SLOB when you move in together. They don’t tell you how not only does he not put the toilet seat down, he occasionally pisses on the floor for you to find and clean up. Or how he leaves his shoes in the middle of the floor for you to trip on in the night as you make your way to that bathroom and fall INTO the toilet…because he left the seat up! These women, your mothers and aunties, they are all WICKED!! They don’t inform you how a man suddenly becomes incapable of doing his own laundry once you are “blissfully wedded”, how he brushes his teeth and leaves GLOBS of toothpaste on the counter for days. He shaves his facial hair and leaves particles on the floor. As he get older in age, he becomes even more careless. He’ll take a shower and blow his nose, only to leave SNOT on the shower walls.

African ladies: You stop and ponder about your own father. How neat and genteel he is. How caring. Why does YOUR man behave so??? It’s because your mother spent 30 years whipping him into the man you see and are so fond of today!!! You think he started off like that? Kai!!

And children. Those ungrateful little b@astards. I have never taken the Lord’s name in vain until I had kids. I’ve recently begun to utter “God D@mnit!!” under my breath at their vicious little antics. They are terrors, and these women who claim to love you only want you to suffer.

Being a mother is a miserable and difficult existence. It is even more difficult and miserable if you live in the West. At least in Africa, we have the comfort of having your friends and sisters in close proximity. There is strength in numbers. But when you are outnumbered 2 or more to one in this forsaken place they call America, you have no hope. Worse yet, you can’t reason with your husband to locate the family somewhere closer to OTHER family because he is “an eagle” and he wants to strike his own destiny. So what do you do? Do you move with the and be happy and leave him behind, or do you suffer on as a good little wife should?

And let me tell you something about religion. Unfortunately, religion and social structure are not what they used to be. There’s a reason 60% of all marriages end in divorce. it’s because people don’t fear God and the shunning of the church, mosque, whatever anymore, and because women can WORK and make their own money now. Don’t let the trappings of religion fool you. The other 40% of couples that are still married are basically together because they feel guilty or obligated to wake up next to that jerk day and and day out for the rest of their lives for fear of some social reprise.

Back to kids. They are INGRATES. Think about how YOU treated your parents growing up. The only reason they want you to have kids is so that you can feel what they felt, and the only people who can do this are your kids. You buy them a doll, and 3 days later it’s naked and missing all its clothes and a few limbs. You take them on outtings and when you get home, exhausted from hours of play they ask you where “we are going again”. To take a nap of course! And then they scream to their rooms and complain that you never take them anywhere. After days spent washing, folding and ironing laundry for these little harpies, you dress them neatly for school and they tell you “I don’t want to wear that”. Another 6 minutes fighting over what shoes they can or CANNOT wear because it’s 18* outside, and they tell you that you NEVER buy them any new clothes. Subconsciously your eye shifts to the closet bursting with clothing and you wonder what the HELL they are talking about???

Eventually, all you want for them to do is to get good grades in school so that they can go to college and get a decent job so they can get the f**k out of YOUR house, but they won’t even do THAT. After spending upwards of 80K on their tertiary education, they COME BACK. Why the HELL are you back in my house?? Those of you living with your parents should pay attention here. Be nice to them, because if it was me, I’d kick your ass right out the door after I prayed with you and wished you luck.

Oh yeah! Motherhood is a blast. You spend the first 2 years wiping their noses and crappy backsides and the rest of their lives putting up with the rest of the sh*t they make up on their own.

AND that, my friends is what they don’t tell you on OPRAH and Good Day America. Lying b@astards.

Should we legalize weed? – Uhh..YEAH!

Weed, weed, weed.

My feelings about Mary Jane are a little mixed. After all, one of my first boyfriends told me that if I “didn’t like him smoking weed, I could break up with him!” I was shocked. He had chosen the ‘other woman’ over me; and the ‘other woman’ was a PLANT. How was I supposed to feel as a young woman?

Now I’m a little older and I realize that all those mad men walking around Accra were probably not crazy because they had been smoking weed (as they told us in primary school), but probably because some “uncle” had raped them as small boys and their mind couldn’t handle it. Weed is back in the headlines with Mexico’s war on drugs and Pres Obama’s flip remarks on whether or not to legalize it. He said “no”. I think this would be a big mistake.

Now of course OBAMA can’t legalize weed in America. How would that look? First Black man in the White House and he opens up a legal trade of the chronic? Comedians and the press would have a field day. But for his successor (who WILL be white), I offer my humble opinion on the legalization of bud.

Economic advantages:
The US spends millions, if not billions, of dollars on a war on drugs every year. You could easily turn that expenditure into revenue if you levied a tax on weed sales. Plus, it’s the American thing to do. Lets not forget, liquor used to be illegal too. Today, beer companies are some of the nation’s largest employers and sponsors of community programs. Imagine if we had a Bud Inc. or Weed Watchers to glean all that extra money from?

The American government has sanctioned and legalized some of the most harmful substances known to man…like cigarettes. Cigs kill more people everyday than car wrecks and murder combined, yet the revenue from cigarette sales go towards building schools, bridges and funding education. It is UNAMERICAN for the government not to exploit the health of minorities for the gain of the rest of the country.

Everyday, dozens of people are locked up for possessing mere ounces of weed. Instead of overcrowding our jails with these non-violent offenders, just tax the product! It’s a far better way for them to repay their debt to society.

Innovation:
Weed has been used to cure/treat glaucoma. Who knows what else it could cure? That little plant could unlock the secrets to curing AIDS, cancer or paraplegia.

Entertainment:
Some of America’s best and brightest smoke weed. The most awesome and athletic man on the planet, Michael Phelps, smokes weed. Do you really think the Olympic Committee is not going to invite him back to swim? Dave Chappelle, whose comedic styling is often centered around weed, has brought us some of the most entertaining moments in television. Where would we be today without such catch phrases as “Wh-u-t?!?!” and “I’m Rick James, b***””? Dave is one of the most quoted men alive today.

Now, on the other hand, lets consider cocaine, weed’s nemesis. When Rick James abducted and tortured that girl, what was he on? Coke. When Ike was beating the crap outta Tina, what was he on? Coke. The most a weed head is going to do is gather in a room with other potheads, smoke a joint, get the munchies and fall asleep. On the odd occasion, they may have a chat about “crystal skulls”.

Meth, cocaine and crack should NEVER be legalized.

Social:
Don’t be fooled. The CEOs of huge companies, heads of HR departments, the top sales’ performer in YOUR company ALL SMOKE WEED. Are you going to lock up your best and brightest? Are you going to give them a record for no other reason than they were trying to get “inspired” to deal with another day at work? I think not.

and finally

The implications for world peace:
If all the world leaders got together, smoked a little bud, and worked out their differences, we’d pull out of Afghanistan faster than a high school boy trying not to…well, you know. I think Kim Jong Il could do with a fattie, personally. Might calm his little Korean self down.

And in case you’re wondering: NO, I don’t smoke myself. Up until last night, I had a strong stance against weed. But now I find myself in my third trimester and I do believe I have grown a lot… between last night (when I despised to substance) and this morning. Legalizing weed just might save the world. We should give it a shot.

Hey Ladies! If you’re single, it’s all your fault.

Married women are only married because they understood men before they jumped the broom/tied the knot. You don’t gain this knowledge afterward, which is why women who have been single for 20+ years will continue to be so until they wise up!

This is for ALL the ladies who just WANT a man so bad, and keep ending up in failed relationships. I’m sticking up for the fellas. I’m so sick of books, movies and songs talking about what a woman wants, and how to give her what she needs. What about the dudes? Anybody ever consider them? Perhaps I’m being partial because I’m about to have a son myself, and I would want any woman who he would consider dating to understand his needs as a man…or just understand men in general.

Here are some tips:

1. Men cannot multi-task: They can’t cook breakfast, get dressed, and talk to you at the same time. If he’s on his job, at the gym or wherever else it is his day takes him and you happen to call him when he cannot completely focus on your call, he will either a) seem distracted during the conversation, or if he’s really nice, b) offer to call you right back. He’s not being dismissive. Men cannot walk and chew gum at the same time. Deal with it. You only have a right to get upset if he does not call you back within 24 hours as promised.

2. Not every man is going to want to do what YOU want to do: How many (straight) men do you know just looooove to go the art gallery or go shopping? Stop requiring that man to spread his horizons needlessly! If you haven’t been with a guy for over a year, don’t expect him to immerse himself into your world within the first 2 months of meeting him. Do you want to hang out with his sweaty guy friends and drink beer all afternoon when you first hook up? No (unless you’re THAT chick). Keep it neutral.

3. Stop asking him to pay every damn thing: You have a job too, don’t you? Women are always whining and crying about how independent they are, and when the bill comes after dinner/drinks, they look at it like a deer in the headlights. Go ahead, reach for the bill! If he snatches it out of your hand, HE’S the one who has set the standard. He doesn’t want you to pay. If he says “Thank you” after you stuff your Visa card into the bill fold he’s either
a) cheap
b) broke or
c) testing you out to see if you’re wiling to pull your weight in a potential relationship and not just using HIM for HIS resources.

4. Stop being so invested in your man: You know why Angelina Jolie (though I hate that whore) and Brad Pitt will ALWAYS be together? Because although she likes him plenty enough, her life is not invested in his. She doesn’t want to marry him, and it’s like he’s on the perpetual chase, although they live together with like, 15 kids. After marriage, there is nothing else for him to look forward to. It’s twisted, but now you see Brad traipsing across the planet building communities in impoverished areas and saving flea bitten orphans. Angelina’s life was interesting enough for him to want to peer into and BECOME a part of.

Maybe you need to consider becoming a little cooler and worth hanging around, you average chick you.

5. For the love of all things holy, stop having sex with a guy within weeks of meeting him: I can’t stress this enough. Unless you are just THAT good and will put a hurting on him THAT bad that he just has to come back for more, PLEASE don’t do it. Will he tell his friends? Probably. Most men are still operating like they’re in high school. But there is a big difference between a casual “Yeah dude, I hit it” (after which he will give a brief account of the whole affair) and “Yo dude, I can’t even tell you…” after which his voice will trail off at the memory of the encounter. If you’re just average in bed, please save your dignity and have sex when there is a mutual commitment. He’s more likely to have enough respect for you to keep it to himself.

6. If you’re a serial offender to point 5: You’re girl friends are tired of hearing about it. Usually, a violation of point 5 will end your “relationship” within 2 – 3 weeks of the sexual encounter. You’ve given it up…what else is there to come back for? This guy doesn’t really know you personally, and if he’s right, you’ve slept with how many other guys in the same time frame that it took him to get into your drawers? Men don’t think beyond the moment, but when they’ve had a chance to sit down with their boys and analyze what a possible “ho” you are, they will advise him to move on. You know you’re not a ho, your girls know you’re not a ho, but what does this guy whom you’ve only known for a month know? That you’re a (potential) ho. Back to the original point – If you keep offending, your friends will conclude that you are both hopeless and stupid. You really are hopeless and stupid if you think they’re not talking about how hopeless and stupid you are, every time you come to them WITH THE SAME STORY THREE TIMES A YEAR.

7. Men are brutes: The majority of men are not refined. That’s why as a society, we mock metro-sexuals and some male models (Tyson is excluded). Most guys don’t want to be jerks, but they really are not thinking about you until you’ve been in their world for a long time. So, when you send him a text saying “hey, I was just thinking about you” two nights after meeting him, chances are he’s going to ignore your text or send you some crazy, incoherent, very brief reply like “me too”. What does THAT mean? Was he thinking about himself too?

8. You psycho girls working at the Burger King counter: Just because he happens to come into your line at lunch time twice a week does not mean you’re in a relationship. Translate that thinking into your job as a receptionist, web designer, etc.

Men are really simple creatures, and not too much different than we are. No one likes a whining, nagging, squealing harpy on their back all the time. That’s why few people like toddlers. Stop acting like you’re in pre-school.

Men are visual. They see a pretty woman, and they’ll turn around to look. Just like if you saw a hot pair of shoes, you’d break your neck to get a second glance. Don’t get mad at a man for looking! Sometimes, if I’m out with my husband, I’ll point out a hot chick and say “Babe, she’s hot, huh?” Not ‘cute’, not ‘pretty’…’HOT’. He’s seen her, he knows I know he’s seen her, and he has permission to look and keep it moving after we’ve all seen and discussed how hot she is.

Finally, have a sense or frickin’ humor would you? Not everything is so serious. You can still be a lady and appreciate a good fart joke.

It’s been 13 months and I’m still pregnant

Peeing, peeing, peeing. I’ve been pregnant with the SAME child for over a year it seems, and my nights and days are spent peeing. 80% of the time spent after I lay my head on the pillow is spent lumbering to the toilet to pee, 10% wishing I didn’t have to pee, and the other 10% laying in bed in excruciating pain from holing in said pee.
That’s what it’s like to be 8.65 months pregnant.

All I want to do is SLEEP, but this man beside me WON’T STOP SNORING! For the love of all things good and pure, would he roll over or loose some weight so that I can get some sleep??!

Wait a tick. That’s not him. It’s ME! I’ve actually snorted myself into consciousness. Poor hubby. I’m sorry.

Sweet Jaysus. What is that SMELL?? Ugh. I’ve got the farts again. Is there any odor more foul than a pregnant woman’s flatulence? If I crack another one like that off again, hubby may leave me. I mean, I’d leave HIM if he stank like that. Smells like a herd of cattle died in my bowels. Ugh.

2 months ago, the women I would encounter in polite circles (church, the grocery store and the like) would say “Oh! I knew you were pregnant! You’re GLOWING!!”
Now I get concerned nods and asked questions like “Oooh girl, how are you FEELING??”
I know I look hit. I feel hit. Don’t rub it in.

Even as I sit here typing in my 15th month of pregnancy, I know I should be asleep. It’s 5 freakin’ AM! In 2 hours, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum (my two toddlers) will scamper and stomp into my room demanding “nilk” and “jewse”. I will have no strength to go down to the kitchen to retrieve either of these. They will whine, and my day will begin with a headache. It’s a sure banker.

Most of the things that keep me awake at night (apart from the constant deluge from my bladder) are concerns for my family’s financial future. Are we going to be so broke that I WILL indeed have to dress my son in his sisters’ pink discards? Will this business I’m venturing into actually work? Will my children shut their yackity traps long enough during the day so that I can call some potential clients??? Dang it! I have to pee again. You know what would be awesome now that I’m 23 months pregnant? A catheter. That way I could pee and never have to leave the spot I’m sitting or laying in. There’s a freedom in there that only the very old and very sick get to experience.

So now that it’s 7 am and I’ve been asleep a total of 15 minutes, I feel a hand suggestively rub my back. You can’t be serious. After the night I’ve had?

“No, no,” I say. “It will hurt the baby.”
I hear a rebuttal.
“Yes, I know it’s been 3 months.”
More objections.
” I don’t CARE what the doctor said, I SAID it will hurt the baby!!”

Suddenly, there is a pounding of four feet down the hall. *Sigh*. Time to get up and get drinks for my mistresses. I can’t wait to have this baby so I can get a 2 day vacation at Northside Hospital.

Va-ca-shon!!

I’m about to go on vacation at Hotel de Northside Hospital. Train pulls out of the station at 7 am sharp! I can’t wait!

No more screaming kids for two whole days. The next child I hear crying will be the one being yanked from my womb, and even he will be whisked away by some chick in surgical scrubs whose responsibility it is to comfort him.

I will sleep through the night uninterrupted. I will finally get to watch Full Metal Jacket on dvd without having to pause it because Sgt Hartman is cussing up a storm, calling black people “Snowflake” and it’s too early to expose my kids to that type of reality. It’s going to be glorious.

I plan to be the most obnoxious hospital “guest” ever. I can see it now…

“Mrs. Grant, can you drink this solution so we can monitor XYZ please?”
“Naw! I can’t drank a d*mn thang…unless you put the cup to my lips YOURSELF. I’m on va-ca-shun!!”

Oooh! Wait. Here’s the best part. I won’t have booty-duty for the 2 days I’m in the hospital. In FACT, after I (stress on “I”) take a dump, I’m going to ring one of the nurses to come wipe MY arse.

“Hey Nurse so-and-so. I can’t reach my crack because I’m on va-ca-shun. Can you get a wet wipe and tighten it up back there fore me… Please?”

I will then refuse to wear grown up people panties and request a pair of Depends or an extra mattress pad. I plan to pee in the bed, just like one other member of my household. And Northside can’t kick me out! If they try, I’ll just lay out on the floor and crap myself like an 93 year old invalid. If they’d just left me in the bed, there would be no poo all over their precious hardwoods, now would there?

Stupid hospital security team…

MUAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!

Every morning I will call up the charge nurse and tell her I (stress on “I”) want cranberry juice to drink with my delectable drug buffet. There is nothing tastier than Percocet and Oxycontin in de morning! If there’s not enough ice, I’ll wait five minutes an call her back to inform her that “my drank ain’t cold enough.” She may put a little Shug Avery pee in there before I take a sip, but I figure it’s a fair trade. A little pee in your mouth never hurt anyone. Ask all the people who partake in Golden Showers. Yeah, you know who you are. You freaks.

So goodbye FB byiatches! I’m taking a trip to a better place. When next you see me, I’ll be 8-10 lbs lighter, hooked on drugs and 15% more ignorant than I am as of the writing of this note.

MUAHAAHAHAHA *SNORT* HA!

I AM ON STRIIIIKKKEEE!!!!

THAT DOES IT!

I will no longer try to improve the well being and hygiene of my family. I give up on that part of motherhood. From now on, my obligations are only the newborn and myself.

From THIS DAY FORTH, I vow to be as NASTY as these muthas running around in this house.

I will no longer look to see if the dishwasher is empty and put dirty dishes in there. I’ll just leaves my plate, cup spoon and fork on the desks and living room. Maybe I’ll just leave my dishes on the little counter space we DO have, and add an extra cluttered look.

When I drop food on the floor, I won’t pick it up. I’ll just leave pesto, icing and herbs on the ground for hours because after all, MALAKA, will clean it up.

I’ll purposely throw my dirty clothes NEAR the laundry basket and not in it. Heck, why not really follow the crowd. I’ll just leave my dirty shorts in the middle of the bed room floor, right next to my shoes where someone can easily trip over them!!

From now on, I will NOT clean up after myself in the bathroom. I’ll leave my toothpaste stains all over the sink and mirror. If I HAD a beard, I’d also leave my facial hair all over the sink and floor. But what I CAN do is this: When I douche, I’ll just leave the empty container in the tub and wait. Wait until someone says something. But since that sh*t only bothers ME, I guess no one will object.

When I take a piss, I will aim for the floor and seat AND WALK AWAY. When I take a dump, I WILL leave skid marks on the rim.

Oh yeah, this is war!!! Y’all think you’re the only ones who can play this game??? You didn’t grow up with me. You can’t win.

OH Ame-ri-KKK-a!!

At first I was just going to make a witty status update about what relentless bulldog byiatches Nancy Grace and that Velez-Mitchell chick were (and how you have to be a heartless whore to have your own show on HLN these days), but the media coverage on MJ compels me to say much more. I know, I know. We’re all tired of watching/reading about but I HAVE to speak on it!

I mean the comments just beg the question “What Black man for do???”

This week, Rep congressman went on a tirade, calling out the media for the week long coverage on MJ’s death. He said the air time should have been spent covering the cops who serve the community, the fire fighters and the soldiers in Iraq. You know, the REAL heroes. He said “MJ was a pervert and a child molester and THERE WAS NOTHING GOOD ABOUT THIS GUY”. He said “Sure he danced some dances and sang some songs,” but that didn’t make him worthy of all the attention the WORLD was giving him. For the record there was plenty that was good about him. He was a humanitarian who gave millions to impoverished nations, the ill and the UNCF; changed attitudes through his work (not mine, because my heart is a deep icy hole);and at the least, was a devoted father, brother. son and friend. You sodding idiot. But the media didn’t show that part of his life because it wasn’t “newsworthy”.

My mouth was literally fucking AGAPE. I generally try to look at people objectively and not classify them based off of bits of information, but King came off (to me at least) as an aloof, out of touch, racist (yes)…Republican. I always defending the Republican party, because like the Dems, they have their demons and issues too; but these comments are indefensible.

Why are King’s comments racists? Because he may have well come out and said “The nigga danced like we told him to and now he’s dead. Why should we care?” Dance nigga, dance. Why are his comments indefensible? Because he just made the Rep party look like a group of unhip, intolerant MORONS at a time when they can scarcely afford it. They are loosing members by the droves, and the youth are not interested in their brand of buffoonery.

I mean, how Black man for do?? MJ faced his accusers in court as was acquitted of the charges! According to the law, he is NOT guilty of the crimes he was accused of! What is SUPPOSED to make America great is that in OUR courts, you are presumed innocent until proven guilty; not the other way around. It’s like some White people can’t handle it when a brother is proven not guilty of something they are just SURE he did. Sorry y’all, maybe OJ didn’t do it! Stop trying to make all our young men pay for the one who “got away”. Christo!

Furthermore, I don’t need Rep King to tell me who my heroes should be. You want me to hero worship the cops? The same ones who shot Diallo 41 times for pulling out a wallet, or who beat up the unconscious man in Alabama after a chase? Or how about the US soldier in Iraq who raped that girl and then killed her family? These guys DID THESE despicable things. It’s been proven. There is no PROOF that Michael molested any child or had inappropriate sexual contact with them. He admitted to sleeping in the same bed with them, or giving a hug or a kiss…I hug and kiss my and other kids all the time. I guess that makes me a perv too, huh?

Fuck you Peter King. My baby is crying and this is all the time I can afford you right now.

Is having a boy different, you ask? For Nana Appiah-Korang

Nana,

You asked me a few months ago to let you know how different it is to have a boy after having two girls. Your son’s conception, like mine, was unplanned. In FACT, my brother refers to my son as “False Start”, as he was not due until June of 2010. But he’s here now, and that’s all that matters!

Now that the boy is nearly 3 months old, I feel that I have enough time spent with him under my belt to appropriately answer your query. Yes, there is TOTAL difference. Let me lead you in by saying this:

There is a reason the last 3 or 4 generations of men have been hedonistic, narcissistic douche bags, and it’s because of women like me…and the men who leave women, with similar behavioral patterns to mine, to raise boys. THERE IS NOTHING MY BOY CAN DO WRONG.

The first 2 weeks he was home he peed on me a total of 8 times, including a chest shot and a whiz between my legs. I delight in every soiled diaper, even if it’s at the expense of a new dress that I’ve worn only once. He’s not permitted to cry more than 43 seconds. When I feel something hot and runny coursing down my back, the alarm I feel after being unwittingly puked on turns to joy when I see that milky grin on his face. The other night my husband put his foot down and said the boy MUST sleep in his bassinet from now on, and not in the bed with us. You should never sleep with your baby, I know, but we have a super-king size bed, big enough for 4 people. If HE (Marshall) would move his country fed self over to the left some, then maybe my boy would have more room without fear of being crushed! I had perfected the art of sleeping perfectly still…why couldn’t Marshall??? All these thoughts raced through my mind, until I found myself about to suggest that MARSHALL go downstairs and sleep on the sofa bed so that Stone and I could get a good night’s sleep without his grumbling about “safety”.

I felt these things, in appropriate moderation, for my girls, but I can unequivocally say I did not delight in changing their poo soiled layettes. In FACT, I am pissed that at the ages of 4 1/2 and 3 they do not get all the stains out of their little cracks after taking a poo, and am ashamed to say that I will happily check behind my boy at the age of 23 if he needed me too. That’s what’s wrong with these men today. They think they can take a crap all over women and they’re just supposed to take it and like it. It’s my fault, and I don’t care. There is no shame in ruining your boy with your love, because it’s his DAD’S job to toughen him up and lead him on the straight and narrow. It’s why the Spartans separated sons and mothers at age 10 to sent them to warrior training camp. A mother like me is sure to raise a punk. And it doesn’t help that other women coo and fuss over him and give him pet names as well. One lady said his smile and demeanor helped brighten her whole day and made her forget that she was on medication.

“He’s a healer!” she proclaimed. And no, that “he” was not Jesus Christ, but my mere mortal son Stone.

So, if you find yourself confused by this new range of emotions and subject to some level of disregard for your girls’ well-being, take comfort in the fact that you are married to a wonderful man who is there to cover your back and take up your slack; whose JOB it is to turn the boy into a man. It’s the only thing that lets me rest easy at night when I fall asleep holding my own dear boy in my arms.

No, really. What if the slaves DID have social networking?

If I had to choose a date and time to be born, I would most certainly pick January 24, 1978…That’s my birthday for all you who don’t know.

By that date, 400 years of slavery had just ended 112 or so years ago, reconstruction had been completed, Jim Crow had been defeated, the civil rights movement had accomplished the majority of its goals and by the time I became a teenager, the crack scourge of the 80s had already claimed 80% of its victims and left my generation free. Some say with the presidency of Barack Obama the civil rights movement has been come to a happy end, but I’ll only accept that notion when a Black man can shoot HIMSELF in the foot and not be threatened with federal prison time.

I digress.

Yesterday, my husband sent me this fancy YouTube link (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sIFYPQjYhv8) that talks about how social networking has changed our lives. To be sure, it has. People get hired and fired for their presence (and antics) on social media. Court cases take dramatic turns from the stupid pictures random idiots post on MySpace. People find love and find out their lovers have been loving someone else because of it. On and on.

Did you know it took 4 months for the first set of slaves to be freed after Lincoln signed the Proclamation in 1863? In some states, they had to wait 2 years to get their freedom. But what if we had Twitter, MySpace or Facebook 200 years ago? You know, when the oppressed and poor really needed it? Well, I imagine it would look something like this:

Black people toiling in the field.
Suddenly, a blackberry buzzes.
A big black buck (cuz y’know that’s what called field hands back then: Bucks) fishes it out of his gingham trousers, trying to keep his other hand free to pick cotton and keep Da Oberseer (Overseer) from seeing he’s not working.
Sees an interesting message on Twitter

” ‘Ey y’all! We’s free! Linkon done read de Mancipation Prokamation and we aint gots to toil no no’! Lawdy be!”

The big buck…lets call him Roscoe…throws down his gunny sack full o’ cotton, walks over to De Oberseer and says loudly “We’s free y’all!! We ain’t got to pick cotton no mo’! So I just want to take this opportunity to say ‘F*ck you Oberseer!!’ “

The overseer shoots him in the face.

It’s a reflex action you see, because he’s not used to slaves smarting off to him. The overseer picks up dead Roscoe’s phone and see’s a follow up Twitter note.

“Don’t say nuthin yet to yo’ massa’s. They just gittin’ used to the idea and might shoot a nigga.”

Poor Roscoe. Patience never killed anyone…but a White man with power certainly has.

Suddenly, blackberry’s, nokias and ipods are buzzing every where. The slaves stop singing “Swing low” and begin to mumble amongst themselves. “Is it really true? Is we really free?”

All this time Massa Oberseer, who is a Luddite knows something is afoot, but can’t figure out why his slaves are not a-picking cotton because he can’t work his company issued Treo. He doesn’t know the slaves are free. So he does what he would also do in the face of potential uprising: He starts whipping black people from his horse. The smart ones know they can run off the field and there is nothing he or any other slave owner can do it about…because they’re free. The dumb ones stand behind and ask him why his is whipping them.

“We’s free Oberseer! Cain’t whup us no mo’!”
“I don’t know nothing about that,” he growls back.

(This is kind of like when cops don’t know they’re not supposed to shoot you for coming out of a club unarmed after your bachelor party.)

A bloodied field hand throws him a phone.

“Read it! Please oberseer!”

A pause

“Ohhhh!! I’m sorry,” says the Overseer. “Gosh. My badness. Well…I guess you guys can all go home, or wherever you want really. Gosh. This is awkward.”

But before the slaves leave, he cuts himself in the thigh, to prove to the other overseers that he was attacked and it’s imperative that they hang at least ONE of the field jockeys to prove a point.

(This is kind of like when the cops say they heard gunshots coming from the unarmed civilian…who just happens to be black…and were compelled to return fire. About 62 bullets should do.)

Yeah. Social networking would have been nice to have back then. But it wouldn’t have helped much. Black people can’t read in 1863.