Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
I know a lot of folks will likely vilify my character, what little I maintain, after I say this. Snitching is cool with me, especially if u owe me loot or if u aint seeming like you gone pay up. But then again what would you expect, I am the kind of person that will tell folks where to find me if I say what they don’t like or consider to be appreciate.
So yea, I’m a snitch and will tell with the quickness, for I can only be accountable for my own dirt and no one else’s. But like most black folk, the government aint down with snitching. After the largest recall of beef and beef-by products (Vienna sausages and potty meat with veins and the likes), the Agriculture Department is considering a measure that would allow for them not to tell the folks afected by such – the public, the names of retailers that may have and may have sold tainted to said aforementioned public.
I mean this aint a small deal, we talkin about 143 million pounds of beef. Supposedly the argument is that they fear full disclosure will result in pressure applied to the companies that process and manufacture mad cow and e coli tainted beef. Im like tell, who gives a hoot? Tell and tell all.
In 2007, United Food Group LLC recalled 445,000 pounds based on "unspecified concerns" raised by the California State Department of Health Services which had been shipped to stores in Arizona, California, Colorado, Idaho, Montana, Nevada, New Mexico, Oregon, Utah, Washington and Wyoming. I must admit, after some added pressure, the USDA have released the name of the districts impacted by this latest recall, but that’s about it. Like a mutha fucka know what district his meat comes from like it’s a voting or school district or something.
Laws protecting the public good are already super permeable, I mean how else could such meat (about 50.3 million pounds worth) could get into school lunch programs around the country – yep Atlanta being one. So I’m asking yawl to “reconsider, read some literature on the subject” because I love me some meat, and wanna know who got what I purchase frequently, and from where they got it. So promote snitching, say that snitching is good my people. Sure I trust my stomach acids and gastric enzymes, but I still don’t want to eat a tainted steak, that may have anything in it from mad cow to toxic shock (arm above). Cooking I don’t think, kills either.
Friday, March 28, 2008
They also say it is virtually sold out with front row seats (from Ticket Master) going for $660 a pop. All other seats are going for $300.00. Off market front row seats are going for $900.00, with all others priced and $600.00. Are folks really that greedy? Is a concert really worth more than $50.00 for a front row seat? On the surface I will say no, I mean if it is disposable income, then maybe. However, the folks that will be mostly in attendance, according to the economic indicators I follow have the least amount of disposable income in the country – us.
Personally I do not believe the concept, nor do I ascribe to disposing of income. Garbage yes, income no – folk here don’t get down like that. Maybe it is greed too, because now the concert people have even opened up the rehearsal to he general public for the paltry fee of $250.00 a seat, a rehearsal
Then knowing us as we do, people got to have the fresh cut, their doo’s whipped and new shoes, outfit, purse and nails done if a woman (even some men). So we really looking at anywhere from $500 to a stack for a concert night. And don’t throw in doing dinner before and drinks after coupled with $3.35 per gallon gas, the ticket becomes even higher, cause many of us are not smart enough to take MARTA.
What I could do with a stack, well at least get me shares of some new stocks I have bee following, namely the vice fund, Incogia and Geopharm. But that’s just me and how I dispose of income. What this concert may cost a single individual may even be Board for a semester, if not at least a few bills or a couple of car notes.
some more muzk from the vault
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Now, it seems nothing is sacred, not even the collective experience of being a descendant of Africa in America - not even in south central LA. If you have not heard by now, "Margaret B. Jones” whom we have come to find out is really Margaret "Peggy" Seltzer recently published a book. Reviewers raved about the book called Love and Consequences, a memoir by Margaret P. Jones. NPR described it as being about “a half-white, half-Native-American foster child growing up in the gangland milieu of Los Angeles.” Unfortunately Seltzer was raised by her birth parents in the suburbs around Orange County, California. This where she grew up and attended the best private schools (Episcopal day school) that loot could purchase. In addition, she has never lived with a foster family as she claimed nor did she ever run drugs for any gang members let alone belong to the Bloodz. She even lied about where she went to college and her graduating at the University of Oregon, which she did not. She was exposed by her older sister days before being profiled in the New York Times.
And when she was busted, what did she say? “For whatever reason, I was really torn and I thought it was my opportunity to put a voice to people who people don’t listen to,” Ms. Seltzer said. “I was in a position where at one point people said you should speak for us because nobody else is going to let us in to talk. Maybe it’s an ego thing — I don’t know. I just felt that there was good that I could do and there was no other way that someone would listen to it.”
I only read what I could online before they took the book excerpt offline. I tried to find her myspace page but it is gone too. But one section talks about, her African-American foster brothers, Terrell and Taye. They supposedly joining the Bloodz when 11 and 13 years old as well as how she got her first gat as a gift when she was 13. The catch is she did all this dirt s she could save to get a cemetery plot – LOL. Oprah couldn't ever tell, which is scary on several accords to me.
Q: How did this book originate?
A: During my senior year of college one of my professors told me a friend of hers was working on a book and wanted to interview me. I declined. I wasn’t interested in the whole “South-Central-as-petting-zoo” thing. Then my home girl said the teacher might mess around and fail me for rejecting her friend, so I ended up calling the author and doing the interview. She was real nice and asked me if I had ever written anything. I ended up giving her one of a number of short stories I had written for my brothers’ kids and for the kids of my homies serving life sentences. ...
Q: What was the scene that affected both of you so much
A: It was the scene in which my little sisters and I were walking home from the Korean grocery store and Nishia dropped a carton of milk. It burst open and the milk streamed into the gutter. She burst into tears, begging me not to be mad as she stooped down trying to scrape it all back into the broken carton. I told her I wasn’t mad. But I was. That was a half-gallon of milk wasted and two dollars gone. Even now, as an adult, just thinking about that—thinking about the choices you were given as a child that weren’t kid choices—makes me want to cry. ...
A: Our water had been shut off because Big Mom couldn’t pay the bill. If your water is cut off social services is going to come and say it’s bad living conditions and take the kids out of there. Where I was was cool. I was with people who loved me. I didn’t want us to be split up so I was trying to be part of the solution. That meant bringing in money and getting the water turned back on. Once again that’s not a choice kids should have to make. I knew it was not right—cooking up rock. I knew I was contributing negatively to the community. But the water got put back on the same day. The reward was there. To go from wearing third generation hand-me-downs to wearing name brand everything—when you’re a kid that stuff matt
Guess I can’t blame her, well yes I can. Although for a white person to write a book on African American culture, all they need is a few hip hop cd’s, Menace to Society, maybe even the Wire (but I aint never seen that show) and maybe a week of listening to urban radio to have the language down pact. At least they pulled the book. But then again we all make mistakes, i mean who know black folks and how we live better than white folks.
What gets me is that it is easier for a white person, more accurately a Valley Girl that claims living the experiences of being black to get a book deal with a major imprint than an actual person like me – who lives and get “well your writing is unrealistic, no one wants to read about black men who think like philosophers.” True story. Sad thing was that she sold and sold. Guess this is just a simple pagan ritual, not for all but for some, who cant think or create in their own, sure she had creative writing classes, just like Pythagoras may have had a ruler, but neither of the two lived what they created.
Monday, March 24, 2008
I suspect that given my predilection of lascivious activities, I know some of my readers may have their mind in the gutter from the title alone. So now I will apologize for it contains none of he sordid deeds this mind could make into reality.
You know I have a wonderful and adorable little girl. She is the age of parallel play and plain verbal communication. Now she talks, and wont let me even take a phone call with out saying “I wanna talk.” Then she got them Patty Label lungs too.
Walking into the kitchen to fix dinner, she walked over to the Pantry with her fuzzy pink bear house shoes, sliding her feet full of echo to the pantry and pointed. I looked but couldn’t find what she desired for each time I touched something she quickly shook her head and said “no” at the same time. Frustrated she got her stool, went to the back of the cereal box and said, “I want that daddy.”
I froze. First because it was not the cereal, but the picture of the toy on h back of the box; second, because she strategically laced daddy at the end. Now she calls me daddy and poppa. Daddy is the living and walking half monkey bar half chattel that she orders around. Poppa is just some dude she recognizes when I am in photograph form. Not to mention she uses daddy all the time, like by itself, or “daddy hungry too”, “daddy let’s go”, or the ubiquitous “my daddy, daddy mine.” But this time it was “I want that daddy.”
Everyman’s fear fell into my soul. I wondered if she would be able to say them magic words in the future, forever to get what ever she wanted from me? I looked at her and caught myself. I could only deal with now. She talks a mean game, but I took advantage of her inexperience and said no. That was close, I better get ready for the future.
get just released DIRT BEHIND MY EARS; ESSAYS AND SATIRE FROM THE DIRTY today
Sunday, March 23, 2008
It is after 3am and as I sit here with a tumbler of George Dickle in hand, I am about to do the unthinkable just to try and make a point – admit that I am a hustler. I am not doing this to garnish attention or even to gather so called street credibility, nor is it done so in the manner of faux hustlers. For a real hustler never announces his hustle, let alone that one is a hustler.
Truth is that it is one’s work ethic, motivation and persistence as calculated via a persons endeavors, that one recognize that you are a hustler; not self-proclaimed or singular acknowledgement. As such, others are free to render accolades or hate accordingly (point of order: hustlers even love haters, for we hate nor have disdain for anyone).
A heap of folk claim to be hustlers, but in all honesty would rather talk and not bestow or put in the work and personal time obligatory to accomplish a goal. And hustlers, albeit exceptional at multi-tasking, tend to focus on one thing, maybe two at a time, as integrated into a larger picture and multi-task within the one or two things that they have selected. So for lack of a better phrase – they are pragmatic visionaries.
For example, my folk own a barbershop called OFF THE HOOK, which is located on Peters Street in Atlanta. This is where I go to get my regular shave and line. Folks come in all the time. But to make a long story short, a hustler should not come into a barbershop, saying out loud for all to hear, that they “got them laptops for the low.” Anyone could be in there. In fact this day, Shannon Sharpe and an Atlanta Detective were in the chairs (both regulars). But I guess it is like my boy, the owner says, “people always want to show and act like they the man and aint bussing’ a grape.”
Hustling and hard work ethic is good, in fact laudable. But talking about what you do if you aint working harder than you talk aint gone accomplish jack. The hustler is synonymous with “carpe diem”. I mean, some folks look while other leap. Beyond that, when a hustler leaps, he has already done his homework and he hits the ground running with faith and an unyielding knowledge of self.
Another misnomer regards attire. Ones clothes does not evince that you are a hustler. In fact, when we making stuff happen, we may not even change clothes, sure we shower, and change sox (I don’t wear draws), but when you get that call or have do what needs to be done, you will put on the first thing you see. I have worn the same jeans for weeks and now, I still have on the same Sean Jean warm-up I had on Friday, namely because I have been on the go. Lesson being it is all about accruing capital and not fame.
Hustlers are also risk takers that not only seize the moment, but also make and define it as well. You can’t make any loot in this new world order without taking risk. And contrary to popular belief, hustlers are not a selfish breed; they are givers, for you have to give to take risk. No mater if it is selling guns (I have no personal knowledge of such), starting a dog clothing store or selling books (the risk starts when you drop that first dime into what ever your project is. For example, The day my latest book dropped (3 days ago), I parleyed a half page interview, with all my other books and photo spread in Rolling out Urban weekly to come out next week. That same day, I had managed to get my folks on the radio station (only nationally syndicated black sports talk show) I used to write for to do an on air interview the week after this. Not to mention, I had to get some more books because I accidentally sold the ones that I had for some other newspapers in the city-LOL. Sure, i could have waited, and gotten more exposure with the reviews, but i did not, and took the $45. Again, taking advantage of the momment for time waits for no one and hustler's know this. Others select to wait and may miss out. This was after two days. And I won’t even go into what I have been trying to get done regarding trying to have my dog clothing store open within next six weeks.
So any who, some folks proclaim the grind, and they might be on it. Me, I don’t have time to proclaim such because I have task to accomplish. Maybe that’s why folks wonder where I get the time to do what I do. Don’t seem like much to me, especially when one can focus. So the next time you hear some one claim they a hustler, compare what they say to what they accomplish, and you will be able to separate the cream from the curd.
Friday, March 21, 2008
now this is for the hustla hustlers, and those that know (better yet live)
the credo game recognize game
oh, and for you lurkers.
Need yawl to do yo folk a favor
Book will be avalaible in Barnes & Noble (locate stores here) and Boarders in a few weks
So I want yawl to call, give yo folk one minute of yo day
and ask if they got the book, or if they will cary it, if u want
u can even order it Iclick on cover below).
I mean, one minute, to spread the belief that thinking is cool?
That's what is missing now if u ask me.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Addiction is a very serious disease (yep disease). Just like depression and/or cancer, it disables the body in various fashions and can be stimulated prior the consumption of any substance such as cocaine and alcohol, or via disruptions in cyclic AMP pumps or varying levels of naturally occurring chemicals in the body such as enzymes and neurotransmitters.
Now I know a many of bloggers have touched on a few speeches recently, in particular the one delivered by Barack Obama. However, it was really something I could not attend to since it was based on old news, albeit I was asked to consider writing about it by some of my fellow bloggers. I did not for it would have been a short brief; one that would have advocated that he listened to School House rock too as a child.
Today, our recovering addict in chief, President George W. Bush, addressed the Pentagon in honor (if it can be considered a celebration) of our fifth year anniversary of our invasion and occupation of Iraq. To me considering such as an anniversary is like celebrating the coming of the plague.
In his first speech, in 2001, which I have only read and not heard, he made several statements that stuck out like a hard dick. He made a few statements that stuck with me. The first was “One by one, we are eliminating power centers of a regime that harbors al Qaeda terrorists.” Moreover he added that “Enemies of America have now added to these graves, and they wish to add more.”
This time, he did the same, and like an addict, it appeared as if he was intentionally misleading or even lying to the America public. He said that "The tasks that remain in Iraq - to bring an end to sectarian conflict, to devise a way to share political power and to create a functioning government that is capable of providing for the needs of the Iraqi people - are tasks that only the Iraqis can complete.''
I find this strange since first, the sectarian conflict hat he speaks of did not start till expost facto our invasion and next because the violence that is sectarian, has been mainly promulgated by our policy – namely of paying insurgents and militias that are apart of Awakening Councils, to protect each neighborhood. Now Iraq may as well be like Compton, California, where each block is maybe controlled by some set of Crips or Bloods. In Iraq, especially Baghdad, each neighborhood is controlled by their own militias, who we pay, like sects, to war against each other neighborhood.
Mr. President also suggests that: “…for the terrorists, Iraq was supposed to be the place where al-Qaida rallied Arab masses to drive America out. Instead, Iraq has become the place where Arabs joined with Americans to drive al-Qaida out. In Iraq, we are witnessing the first large-scale Arab uprising against Osama bin Laden, his grim ideology, and his terror network. And the significance of this development cannot be overstated.''
This too is strange since the CIA and his own military and other assorted advisors admitted that Al Qaida was not operating in Iraq when Sadaam was in power. In particular given that they wanted to see his form of government abrogated and replaced with a theocracy – meaning he was a thorn in the side of Al Qaida and observed as their enemy, an infidel. And again, the only way one could say that Arabs are working with the American military is to say that the 1) assist with maintaining the roughly 2hr of continuous electricity the have a day when before the war it ran uninterrupted and 2] that accepting payola from the US military, to use insurgent groups to protect their neighborhoods and battle with other neighborhoods is considered the definition of working together with the US military.
For a person that doesn’t live in or visit Iraq regularly, it is unintelligible to cognize how he can make such a denouement. As a scientist, I can’t use a single indicator to mark such a consummation. For it appears to me that the only one he is using is the number of death, or the reduction of deaths thereof. The killer was the catch phrase of how it ended up being “The battle in Iraq has been longer and harder and more costly than we anticipated” – like I am supposed to believe he gave this war serious ideation in the first place – LOL.
To me, they only difference from the first speech and this one today was that back then, by his side, well almost was his distant cousin of the executive office, Senator Hillary R. Clinton. In addition, I guess today he was trying a wag the dog and remove all of the attention from the fucked up economic position his deficit spending war-mongering ass has facilitated. All in all, I just know he said we would triumph and that I have yet to get the rose garden he promised. And mean while, Mr. 100 year war - John McCain (albeit he is ld enough to have been in the war between France and England), is in Israel, campaigning, like the a state in the US.
Monday, March 17, 2008
In her post she writes: “a mans man is self centered, his life and accomplishments are all about him...he proves his worth to himself and his boys...he shouts out his accomplishments and brags about what he has and how much it costs...women are important but secondary to a mans man...they don't really exist except to fulfill his needs, when he wants...a mans man always has a hot young thing on his arm...he will tell a women what HE thinks she wants to hear, without checking with her...he will fuck a women the way HE thinks she wants to be fucked...again without checking with her...he doesn't like to hear the "whining and complaining"...he will hear, but not listen...his actions are male centered...sports, hunting, money, guns...a mans man usually has a stable/harem of many fine girls to chose from...the young girls love the mans man...they attempt to immolate him, generally in sexual ways.” Regarding a woman’s man, she writes “loves women...he fundamentally respects women...he can be seen holding the purse at the mall...his down time is spent at home, watching sports/cooking/talking with his current lady...he can be with strong women and not lose his manhood...a ladies man is very secure in his beliefs/self and does not need to wear his knowledge on his sleeve, or brag about what he has...a ladies man loves every curve, lump, and bump on his woman...he gets great pleasure in pleasuring his women, and knows that when she's satisfied and happy he will be too...a woman’s man can sit in a room with women and not have the need to become the center of attention...he is quite content to listen to the ladies talk while he watches his sports...a ladies man is the protector and will look out for the neighborhood single chick without having to conquer her sexually...he has his own life and is secure hanging with the boys, or letting his lady hang with her crew.”
Now there is another, the “Girly man”, but since I don’t know many of them, I want to briefly talk about the two, and how I see myself in what she presented. I guess first off, I would be a man’s man, given my predilection for “sports, guns and money” among others. However, I would hope there would be room for gardening, planting flowers, cooking and collecting wine. True, it is important to have worth defined via myself and my folk [boys], but it is not essential, for me because I would rather deal with my Id than ego. I figure folks who nurture their ego are not self actualized and got something to prove to themselves. But that can be blamed on both the men and women in my family who taught me “that some one has to be number one, may as well be you – something I teach my son and daughter equally.
Unfortunately, I do not desire nor have a harem, albeit I could probably put one together if challenged in a week or so. I’m not one to really want someone to be a certain way, for this savagebeastmonsta don’t believes he can own anyone nor that they own him.
With respect to the woman’s man, I am one who loves women and respects them period. And at a major cost, I treat them as I would my mother or daughter. But i will put either in place if required, place being expressing what i feel. Not saying I am not a freak (a person with an supraordinate sex drive) – I am. But a desire for sex five times a day in these eyes doesn’t translate into not respecting women, but rather respecting my id. I mean I have no problem with holding my woman’s, daughter or moms purse, I change diapers and have been the only man, not African man, in my son’s PTA for years, and let them tell you, I bake the best shortbread cookies around (lavender, lemon, and blueberry among others; and the women I have worked with still beg for the chocolate and blueberry cheese cakes I make.
Then there is something I would like to call “the warrior brain.” Think in any case each of the aforementioned must have such. For a man’s man, it means that you will think first and be confident, silver back gorilla style, or alpha male style (that is how i look at myself) that no situation is too great, or that no obstacle can produce fear. I mean, for me, the only fear I have is not being able to feed or provide for my family. Likewise, I mean, I KNOW it is possible that another can whoop my ass, but on the real, I just don’t believe such. I really don’t. It takes a warrior brain also, when being a woman’s man according to my sister, to turn the other cheek, and just be able to sustain any grief a woman would give you for not recognizing the real chivalry in being able to do so. Or even with a child, like when I had to travel to Ethiopia a week after 911, and I had to calm my son, All i had to do was say "who you trust, a terrorist with a box cutter, or your poppa? He smiled and said "poppa will beat him down." But with that said, all I am saying is that I see what she is saying, but I am not an absolute, but rather harmonic as the Dogon of Mali explained, I am of both, a hybrid, cause i got lot of a both in me, that is if i am either to start with. So I just ask you, what says you?
I’m adding this last pic FYI. They have flat screens in the gas stations in the ATL. I have two things to say about this: 1] Long live higher illiteracy rates in the US and 2] Flat screen TV’s outside for folks to steal for free.
BLOG AMNESTY: bittersweet symphony, media 2 live 4, the rich house, no slappz, moon of alabama, monkeyfister, drink liberally, averge american patriot, professor life, handbags,hair & high heels, blackrageous, mind of marcus, the prisoners wife, alice n wonderland,
rhea's spot, love babz, mind bionics, mes deaux cents, beauty n baltimore, bygbaby, Jameil, Rhea and MP1.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Now Jones, your folk here aint the richest man in the world, in fact I am one of the poorest. With that said, over the past two months i done lost a lot of loot. I kind of hoard loot and try to stay away from spending it if I do not have to, especially if I aint got it.
The current credit crunch is hitting everybody nowadays and I am not just talking about the financial institutions. I mean the common man, the banks, Wall Street, Japan, and even Europe. I know people are doing all they can to ameliorate these problems, but suffice it to say, it will be hard to fix when the average person doesn’t have, and has a desire to spend, even when the do not have the money on hand. I feel I have the right to complain about the government practicing deficit spending, but those that do such themselves do not.
What I anticipate next is that Banks and Brokerage houses (one in the same since Clinton abrogated Glass-Stegall), which have already been hit hard by the sub prime lending practice and home mortgage losses, are not going to being seeing the good times any time soon. Since August of last year, the U.S. government has given financial institutions nearly a trillion dollars and things have yet to improve. Now the Federal Reserve Bank is getting into the act and is talking bout allowing banks/brokerage houses to exchange mortgage-backed securities (MBSs) for about 200 billion in Treasury bonds. Talking about shooting dice, I mean, the have never accepted MBSs as collateral before – not to my knowledge. This will make the FR a holder of long-term credit risk. I figure the FR doesn’t need t do this for it is the financial and lending institutions that need to make corrections on their practices and get their shit tight.
We already see our trade deficit increasing. Especially as it relates to exports as a function of being offset by higher oil prices. It increased almost $60 billion last month alone, and the increase specifically with China seems to grow more and more each day.
So in summary, it is the value of the dollar that is essential to a strong economy in the US. I do not like losing money, not even in the washing machine, and over the last 60 days I have lost $11,071.27. My problem is if I can see this, not as an economists, why can’t our government? vote
Thursday, March 13, 2008
1] Only novel written with narrator, except for first one i wrote in college called MY SPIT. I write like i am talking to the reader, first person only mostly.
2] I just had some minor oral surgery this monday setting up for major oral surgery on the 27th, so forgive me for not hitting up blogs like i used too, but stitches in the mouth and gums and loose teeth dos that, and i wont tell you what happened, dont want yawl to get the wrong impression.
3] I wont be in academia full time, I still teach stat 1 an stat 2 at Clark Atlante Univ. Albeit they trying to ge me there full time and as to why, check this
This was Foia’s third trip to see him in two months. Allistar had given Foia $400.00 to go out to see and learn the city. He had also informed her of a shoe outlet that he had seen and hat maybe she could spend the money there. It was hard to get her out of the house without him. He didn’t mind really, since he was a homebody himself. But he wanted her t still be independent and thought it was important for her to know that he still and would always love her as the free spirit she was. He also didn’t want her to think that she had to be under him all the time, although he would never refute such an action. He simply adored her, her eyes, her voice, and her walk. Her hair her laugh and the clumsy way she held him at night while at the same time trying to have the entire bed to herself. It was funny to him, for she had expressed that he was the best pillow ever.
She was in the back playing with his son; they seemed to hit it off very good. He didn’t know about her trying to play catch with him, or chasing him around the house, with her self professed goofiness, but he liked the smiles that they seem to evoke when interacting with one another. Allistar wanted her to be herself; no relationship could or would work without that understanding.
“Yawl stop playing now, Foia, you need to stop before you bump your head. As she came from the laundry room and through the bathroom, she hit a flight of stairs on her chase with my son, and hit her head above the doorway, slamming immediately to the ground. Before he could get there she jumped up said, “I knew I was gone fall or some shit,” and laughed. He laughed too, maybe it were here teddy bare house shoes of pajama’s with pink pigs on them.
“Woman gets ready, ok?”
“Ok.” She turned back around and wrapped her arms around his neck and proceeded to place her nose in a humble manner in the crease of his neck. He inturn took a deep inhalation of her hair and held her back. He smacked her on the ass as if to say get moving.
When she was ready, he had started the grill by now. Her hair was brown simple but dazzling. Her completion was smooth and her shades, large and orbital like and provided the thought I ones mind that they made her face more alluring. She was wearing a purple dress. Her back was displayed and the pattern was one of multiple concentric circles with a dash of white. The outfit looked delicious to Allistar and conservative at he same time. She had made certain than he knew it was a Nelson Pilay dress and that he was one of her favorites. It was sophisticated garment non-the less, made of a light fabric he could not discern and exaggerated her hips and ass as if they were semi-precious stoned. She again said thanks and kissed him on his lips.
So you know where you going? Back to the main road, swing a left and left and drive till you get to exit 27. You been there before ok?”
“Ok, I’m gone miss you.”
“Me too, be safe.”
By the time the grill was finished and he had taken his son to a friends to spend the night, he walked out side after his shower, which followed a second steak prepared cowboy style , and walked outside. He was considered a loner by most, a flirt and highly sexual person. But he was also a dedicated family man and eclectic who loved life for living sake. He would walk and often think to himself that he could hear the stars. He cherished his land as if it was his child and family. Panoplied in the sartorial grace of a stolen hotel tile and an sixteen ounce Bush beer in his had, he walked. His dog, half wolf and half Rottweiler, joined him as he did each and every night he walked his property or came outside. Haussa was his name.
He returned to the house , and laid on his bed. The room and sheets stilled were embellished with her bouquet. By the time he had positioned his pillows into the maximum comfort position, there was a knock at his door. He lived in the country an did not have a door bell. He stepped over her bags and opened it.
She came to the door with a long coat and heels and a smile that made one visualize maple and sugar. She dropped straight down to the floor and said, “I am about to wake up what’s mine
She seemed to be greedy, attempting to take all of him into her throat and never wanting me to stop.
Next she walked him slowly into his bedroom and sat him down upon the edge of the bed. She slowly took her coat off and showed that burning yet passionate smile again and sat right in his lap. Her nipples vibrant and hard were all up in his face. She started to ride him, first slow then speeding up her pace, grinding harder and allowing him to go deeper than any man had entered her before
He couldn't’t let her have her way entirely. He wanted to be in control a little and give her some dick. He flipped her over like some one off of WWWF on to her back exposing the wildness of her legs in the air. Her level of flexibility made him even harder and he started to beat and long and slow stroke her. By the time he saw her eyes fading back and forth from the recesses of her head, she begged for him to stop. But she did not want that, like I said, she was in a greedy state of mind and would pull him by his butt when he even attempted to long and slow stroke her.
In side she knew that he had matched every criteria she had written in her journal for a man. He was smart, successful, loved kids, funny and easy to talk too. And he had meat; her aunt’s told her growing up that when u select a man he had to have meat. Allistar had meat. Fat and long and thick country sausage meat. She wanted it but couldn't take it. He could see this and went back to trying to maximally penetrate and bury himself in her and slowly pull it out. all the way, and then slowly sliding it up the roof of her wetness entering under her clit, and back at the base of her spine, where he wedged himself in like a lamprey.
He picked her up; her legs still wrapped around his waste and took her into the shower. He turned the water on and started to wash her. First with his hands and next directly with the bar of carrot soap he had picked up in South Africa. He began to kiss her on his neck and the soap soften skin of her structure led him to turn her around placing her against the wall and started to take her breast in her mouth, using his hands such to get both nipples in at the same time. Eventfully his tongue bathed its way to the top of her pubic hair and on below. It was cut in the form of a straight line down the middle.
Then he carried her still damp in his arms, back to the bed and entered her again. The next morning he woke up first, she way still asleep. She was his cover and just looking at her in slumber made him smile. He went outside, nude as usual and looked at his flowers. He gently picked a red rose from one bush and returned to the house
He approached the bed and easily slide the flower in her hair. She woke up briefly, gazing into his eyes as if she was looking in his heart. Her heart, for he owned it and she had given it to him.
For Foia, Allistar was a dream, a man, a real man and it was difficult that this dream was true. After all, she had listened to her girls and other women say repeatedly how difficult it was to find a good man. But she had, albeit under the auspicious circumstances of being out of a trip with a married man. She felt that it was meant to be and that nothing would ever separate her from her prince charming.
Hey you”, she said in a morning whisper. He kissed her on her forehead and moved the hair from in front of her eyes.
“Good morning pound cake.”
“What you doing, hanks for my flower.”
“You welcome, nothing, lounging, waiting for you to wake up so I can smell you in my embrace again.”
“I don’t want to go.” She said, returning all of her face t the pillow. I don’t want to leave you. I want t stay with you, in my bed with you.”
“Our bed, and don’t want you t leave me either. I get a hollowing pain each time I take you to the airport.”
Allistar looked deeply into her eyes again. He pained at the sadness they displayed and clasped his hand over hers and said, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you my wife, my woman for life, so keep that and me in your heart please?”
“But I’m gone miss you, and my kisses and my meat.” She laughed and so did he. She continued slowly and like a diva stated, “you better not be down her fucking nobody else why I am gone.”
They both laughed again. She slid her hand on his thigh and laid her head back on the pillow as if she was looking at his thigh. She moved her hand to his member, which was resting down his thigh and started to get the response she desired immediately With it to its maximum length and stiffness, she commented, “now that’s what I’m talking about and you better not.”
Her flight was six hours away, ad that meant four since he had to get her to the airport early for her take off her shoes and made sure she was no terrorist. She dressed slowly, only attending to the mirror in the bathroom and the occasional turn to check on his where abouts. If she could no see him she would call out his name loudly in the 4000 square foot house. “Allistarrrrrrr.”
“I’m her in the kitchen, what ya need hon?”
“Nothing, you were making me miss you. I don’t want to leave.
Walking back to the bathroom, Allistar placed his had against the door frame and just looked a her. “I don’t want you to leave, wish you would relocate, and you know I have to work tomorrow.”
“But that don’t change my feelings.”
“Well look at it this way, you going back home and you are going to Toronto with your girls.”
She held calm for a minute. She forgot that she had told him about the trip. She had put on a pink beaded and lace top. It was sequenced a little and embroidered with flowers. Levi’s would complement he remainder of her outfit. He had bought them for her on her first trip to see him, when it was her goal to get him some jeans – which she did.
As they drove to the airport, she clasped her palm over his fist. It was on the stick shift, a bad habit of his from driving a standard shift vehicle for most of his life, with the exception of that burgundy and white 74 Cutlass Supreme he bent while in college. He was still a truck man, albeit he could afford a BMW 700 class or Range Rover. His Ford pick-up truck suited him just fine.
Now, I know I indicated that this story is about Alistar, but given the situation, I would like to interject something on my personal behalf. Allistar and I kicked it, I mean really kicked it. That one-town, bluff city Ten-a-Ki thang. And I must add that we were both quite the ladies men. I was more refined and his bunch were for lack of a better word were incorrigible and recalcitrant at best. But we did kick it. Maybe it was the party circuit or one of his impromptu pol parties with around twenty guest, fifteen of which would be women.
At these Lagnaf’s , as he called them, only the top self of folks would be there, there was his best friend, at least on of the Rory Stain, III, often referred to as Cadillac, who was heir to one of the largest African American owned Banks. In appearance, one could suppurate how he gathered his name given he was as large as the said vehicle. There was also Railhead. Ballplayer and scholar in the old school Memphis make and model. He was a reformed distributor of pharmaceuticals. Had sent both his sisters to college while he himself went to the Navel Academy on an academic scholarship. Then there was his next door neighbor, Blue, who was really road dog number one and just as wild, if not wilder when it came to women as Allistar was. Cat Daddy was still a distributor of pharmaceuticals and had parleyed such into a string of car washes. Allistar himself was no deacon, giving his past dealings with weapons.
Last would be someone such as myself, whose father was a Plastic Surgeon and the firs to attend and graduate from the University of Notre Dames Medical School. I actually looked up to him. Although I would be attending prep schools around the Eastern Seaboard, and just as smart, he would be in both worlds at the same time; the gutters from Glenview park to Castalia heights to Nigeria and Zimbabwe.
Maybe that is what is so surprising, a man who wet through a woman one every two to three weeks, and him biting had for this one. But as I will repeat, this is only speculation on my half based on conversations, emails and other forms of correspondence.
He loved the way she gripped his fist. He loved her touch period. Foia found what she could only perceive as a dream. She often thought to herself that he was too good to be true. She found him exceptionally handsome and cocky and assertive yet kind at the same time.
But in her heart I suspect, she was still uncertain, not of him, but of herself. Was she ready to make a commitment for life to him, to have his children, to travel the globe with him? She knew that she was planning no trip to Toronto with her girls. But rather had aggreeed to meeting the man of letters, NAME in Los Angeles. He would always be first in her heart. It was his fame morso than the individual that did it to her. To her, she believed there was nothing more stimulating, than having sex with a man with fame and power. Or what she perceived to define fame and power in her eyes. If she loved Allistar, inside she knew that such could not happen. Not to mention NAME was a married man with two children.
This was her first lie and it pained her.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
With that said, the heart, although vascular, reticular and muscular, is really a vacuous organ. Sure it transports blood and fills blood with oxygen, it doesn’t have any meaning outside of an anatomical and physiological compensation unless you allow other in or unless you are allowed inside of others hearts. I came to this conclusion while being a chief with my boy Smoove. For those of you who are unaware, I am leaving academia so that I can be a lot more lazy (yep, I know it is grammatically incorrect). Well really, I am going to do something I have been dreaming about for a while – open up a dog clothing boutique over on the East side of Atlanta in the old 4th ward, Edgewood district of the city. And out side of my little 3 pound black Chihuahua named famous (in picture), I want to use my boys small Terrier for my advertisment flyer and in news papers, of course panoplied in the couture I will be selling
He indicated to me that he had been neglecting his dog and that he needed to give him a bath, and also that he wished he would bark at folks when they came in the door like Famous did, instead of pissing on their shoes. I responded, well we can never neglect the things and people we love. He said it was profound and that he had to think about that and added, “That’s so true.”
Now that I think about it, I wasn’t trying to be prophetic or nothing, but it dawned on me that I never neglected anyone I loved. Neither family member, nor children, nor woman (when I had one) nor friend or pet. I always wanted to be there for them because I truly believe if I wasn’t they wouldn’t be there for me, or worse that I would loose them. I know sometimes you can be there for folks and the not be there for you. But that’s cool, cause then you will have the upper hand and can obviate them from your life. An action that will occur at their own offense. For it is true, they will learn, and that their neglect may have proffered such for “you never know what you have until it is gone. So folk, if you love something or someone dearly (cares, purses and shoes side), then do put in the work and never neglect that love, for it may evaporate. And even moreso, never be afraid to love or show it, saying it empty for love is a verb from where i sit, and can only be demonstrated by actions.
So I just wanted to share that from me to the reader today, before me and my little monster went outside to plant flowers and replant some plants on this cloudless 62-degree day in the A. Yep it is real important to me, because I only know how to love one way: that is completely and all in, or not at all.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Now days, Hillary Clinton sound like she shoot dice. She is always taunting her 35 years experience. So I have been doing some thinking, If she is 60 now, that means she been in public service since age 25, which I find hard to believe. Sure a large amount of that time was as first lady of Arkansas and the First Lady of the United States, but really, outside of that, what experience does she have?
I know in the late 1970s, when she worked with the Rose Law firm, I have read that she opened a commodities account with $1,000 and was able to Parle that into $100,000 365 days latter. But that’s beside the point, the Law firm, which I couldn’t find no mention of on her website, was infamous for scandal after scandal including “Whitewater; the death of Vince Foster, a Rose partner who became deputy White House counsel; and the missing billing records from Rose that were discovered in Hillary Clinton’s book room at the White House.”
Whitewater enabled the Clintons to sale Arkansas real estate. Although Hillary stated on the record that, as an attorney at the Rose Firm she was not significantly involved in the representation of “Jim McDougal's savings and loan, Madison Guaranty.” However, billing records documented that she had billed Madison for 60 hours of work over a 15-month period as covered in a PBS special a while back.
My issue is that she brags on all these years of experience. She has only been in the senate 7 years and they way I see it, being first lady of a state or the country is ceremonial – she was not voted and we had to take her as his wife without question.
I do know that while in the White house and over Health Care Reform, she cost us about $13 million. Then there was her small role in being allowed to select an Attorney General. Her first two recommendations (Zoe Baird and Kimba Wood) did not make the cut and were forced to withdraw their names eventually leaving her to name Janet Reno. Bill Clinton considered Reno to be his “ worst mistake.'
It doesn’t stop there because she also advocated that her former law partners, Web Hubbell, William Kennedy and Vince Foster, for positions in the Justice Department, the Treasury and as a Whitehouse staffer. We now know that Hubbell was later imprisoned, Foster died under strange circumstance, and Kennedy was forced to resign. In her experience, she also got her husband to pardon some clients of her brother's (Hugh & Tony) in exchange for hefty campaign contributions. These included Carlos Vignali Jr. who was convicted in 1995 in Minneapolis for moving 800 pounds of cocaine and Edgar and Vonna Jo Gregory for a 1982 Bank fraud convictions
As the Senator from NY, she has not even promoted nor passed any significant – at least that I can find on the books, I may be wrong. But outside of any of the aforementioned, she has only worked at law firms (one for 15 years) and been a wife to a governor and a president. She even talks about her foreign policy experiences, when I read in the New York times once that “one meeting with mutilated Rwandan refugees so unsettled her that she threw up afterward.” What kind of leader does that?
Add to that, some of her positions just don’t make common sense to have so mych experience. First, she opposes the international treaty to ban land mines. She also voted against the Feinstein-Leahy amendment last September which restricts the U.S. exports of cluster bombs "to countries that use them against civilian-populated areas."
Now there is much more, but al I want to do is suggest that maybe her 35 years experience is a big fib, and that maybe Mr. Obama needs to bring this to the fore. If I can find it, I know his folks can too. And its not slinging mud, its just factual and namely a function of how she comes up with the number 35 years and here positions and failed attempts in politics when she was first lady. Other wise, if he don’t she gone keep rolling the dice, talking about the Eighter from Decatur – for the none crap shooter, that’s 3-5.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
1] SCENT GAME – your scent or cologne game has to be tight. I consider mine top shelf. My preference is not to wear the regular shelf variety of cologne. It has to match both the individual spirit and dressing habits. For me, my rotation consists of 16. My favorites being Jo Malone Pomegranate, Acqua Di Colonia Melograno, Acqua Di Parma (Cary Grant’s favorite), Hanae Mori, Musgo Real No. 3, and Thierry Mugler Angel. Again in no particular order and I like hearing from women incessantly say “you smell good, what is that."
2] TIE GAME – A nice cravat is worth its weigh in gold, preferably all silk. A man at a minimum should have about 60, inclusive of Bow ties. Yep, Bow Ties. I find the best to be made by Ralph Lauren. I mean 45 bills for one aint bad, seeing that the ones I have by him are in mint condition and at least 12 years old plus. And 40 bills aint a lot, especially when you can pass a mint condition Tie down to your son.
3] JEANS – One word – Levi’s. None of that paint on the back of the pocket, I’m cool as fuck, like a hip-hop star shit. Just the classics.
4] SHOES – Now I have about 12 pair of shoes and that is more than enough not counting tennis shoes. I have four pair of Tennis shoes, but tennis show game is over rated. I have a purple and gold high top pair of Laker Magic Johnson’s Converse, a pair of the original AIs by Rebook, and two pair of addias for the tennis courts only, but the are Shell toes, All white, black and white, and white and green (in pic w me and daughter green shirt). I can’t find my Borg Didoria’s. As far as dress, Two pair of black shoes, and two pair of bucks (white and Brown hopefully by Cole Hann) are an essential. My black shoes are slip-ons, and one pair of Monk Strap. Then you need a pair of boots, maybe two, I like the Kenneth Cole Dessert Boot and the Georgia Boot Company boot (in pic w me and daughter in snow), albeit most folk like Timberland, either one will do. The remainders of my shoes are al open toe and open heel sandals. One can develop a mean sandal game by living abroad, especially in Africa. And i do have a pair of blue and gold air force ones high tp - colors of my AAU team i coach.
5] SHIRTS – I have not bought a shirt in about 10 years. I have about 80, but all you have to do is have an assortment of collars, some stripes, and solids. I send mine to the cleaners and get them folded (they come back new like in plastic), The last a long time that way and the even stamp your name in the inside collar – Dr. Stephens. Then you got to have a plethora of White Tee’s and wife beaters, a must in the dirty.
6] ASSESORIES – Every man needs a flask. I got a nice Suede flask I got for $9.00. I keep Tequila in mine, no Patron, just the real with worms. And No wallet for me, I have a passport case. I keep my passport with me daily albeit I am on my 3rd one, You can keep multiple currencies in it too. Mine used to keep Rand and Dollars and I do have one crisp 50 pound note as well. Then there is the need for belts, skins preferably and a coat or two – classic London Fog trench and a nice black wool full length. Add some leather and suede jackets, and a few Jerseys (Mine are of my favorite athletes: Kareem, Jack Sikma, Conrad Dobbler, and Penny Hardaway among others). But remember throwbacks are not dress attire.
7] WATCHES – I’m not for diamonds in m watches. In fact I have three. One my son gave me, and two, antiques, one from each Grandfather: a Wittnauer (62 yr old silver band and a Bulva 55 year old with a lizard skin band?. No Jacob the Jeweler. Again importance on being able to leave to your son.
8] GAT GAME - was told by my folks that if had use a pistol, I was too close. And although my tool of choice is the SKS, followed by the HK and M-16, every man needs good pistol. One that is easily concealable is of preference. For me, it’s the nickel plated .380. I can fit it in a inside suit coat pocket with no bulge. However, my road or travel pistol is the snub nose 357. This is what we used to call a toss-across or throw away. Never know when it may come in handy.
9] SUIT GAME _ I personally have 30 suits. But the essential things are to have them tailored. See I’m pimp size, 6’2”, 180, 40 Long. Perfect suit size for models they say. Any who. Pin stripes, and a few khaki suits, and some light grays are a god start. If you can get a few linen suits and have at least one double breasted (6-button) and one 3-piece although I have neither. All of my pants are cuffed though, 1.5 inches. And I would be remissed if I didn’t add my preferences for Jos A, Banks, Hugo Boss, and Canali. And do have a tux, mine is black, and I only wear white tie.
Now this is just a start, For me flannel shirts and thick sweaters are part of the act as well. There are more details I could share, but I do not want to give it all away, for it is as they say, “game recognize game.”
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
First off, I am one that believes if one doesn’t know their rights, hey you have no rights, and don’t give me this constitutional shit about amendments and all. I would even venture to speculate that most folk’s aint never even read the constitution and may have even complained when they had to read it 8th grade civics class.
Personally, I consider myself to be a sovereign entity, or citizen-sovereign, for I and only I can “so ever reign” over myself. In fact, I may be wrong, but this is what I have reduced the general corpus of discussion to be about at and during the Constitutional convention in the late 1780s. It was implemented as such to limit the power of the federal government. I mean that’s what they fought against (the did not want or felt hat they were subjects of King George III). To buttress this position, they also created a Bill of Rights to formalize rights of the individual juxtapose to the government such that they were Un-a-lienable.
But for many of us, this means nothing, but yet we always complain about what other folks do to us versus what we do to ourselves. So folks, I know it is appealing to know whom Rhianna dating, or that Prince Henry were in Afghanistan, or that people painting Air Force One’s for Barak Obama. But on the real, it aint important nor essential at all.
I say this to repeat that our problems, our foibles and our consternation, especially as it relates to government, community, family and politics is our own entire fault. For we are a dumbed down and stupid nation as a whole. It makes me realize that that is what Thomas Jefferson meant when he said, “ignorance and freedom are incompatible.” Ok I’m finished.
Blog Amnesty Tuesday (will do this every other Tuesday for my folk): minus the bars, dc speaks, pretty black gold, aunt Jackie, q's world, seattle slim, ms lady Deborah, limited means, comments from left field, balls & walnuts, left wing nut job, BuelahMan’s, lisa c writes, soul of Emmanuelle Elie, rawdawgbuffalo, is anybody there, black snob, monkey mind of TiGe, dags empire, the bear maiden, professor life, pretty flaca, samii styles, fairlane, Badtux, Kelso Nuts, Lolo Cube, Brittney_83
YEA - JUST WENT OVER 48000 WITH NEOCOUNTER SINCE 2006
Saturday, March 01, 2008
"Narcotics production in Afghanistan hit historic highs in 2007 for the second straight year. Afghanistan grew 93 percent of the world’s opium poppy, according to the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC). Opium poppy cultivation expanded from 165,000 ha in 2006 to 193,000 ha in 2007, an increase of 17 percent in land under cultivation... The export value of this year’s illicit opium harvest, $4 billion, made up more than a third of Afghanistan’s combined total Gross Domestic Product (GDP) of $11.5 billion. Afghanistan’s drug trade is undercutting efforts to establish a stable democracy with a licit economic free market in the country. The narcotics trade has strong links with the anti-government insurgency, most commonly associated with the Taliban. Narcotics traffickers provide revenue and arms to the Taliban, while the Taliban provides protection to growers and traffickers and keeps the government from interfering with their activities. During recent years, poppy production has soared in provinces where the Taliban is most active."
Now this tells me a few things. 1] the 32,000 troops we got in Afghanistan have not been able to reduce the opium trade nor convince farmers to stop growing Poppy in the region and 2] if they will blow up 2000 year old Buddhist statues out the side of mountian, they wont stop until they blow up all of our troops.
Now this means that the Taliban is rollin' in loot, 11.5 billion dollars worth. I know I would if i sold more than 90% of all the stuff that was the primary ingredient to make heroin. And I know, my senior chemistry seminar paper was how to make heroin #10 from Morphine (and i still got a copy, fol gave me an 89 n shit).
My main point of consternation is that the locations where cultivation of Poppy is the greatest is in areas that’s under the NATO forces’ control. LOL. So in essence, the Taliban is using this money to attack US and NATO forces as well as the U.S.-backed government. The report is called the U.S. State Department's annual International Narcotics Control Strategy Report. A Briefing on the report was given by Assistant Secretary David T. Johnson
We turned a blind eye to the plant when the Taliban was being funded and supplied by US when they were considered a way to make inroads into the country in 1979. But we can't blame them, because it easy money since i suspect that all the Taliban has to do is provide protection to growers and traffickers to collect. We supposedly reduced their power in 2001 but today still in 2008 we are locked in fierce battle with them folk.
All we do is talk about eradication of the plant when we know good and damn well that eradicating opium hurts already super, duper poor farmers. Meaning we talk about crop replacement but what crop gone replace the kind of loot that poppy can generate? Cocca or weed maybe, but not olive trees for sure. In 2003 it was estimated that poppy production according to the International Monetary Fund, accounted for 40 percent to 60 percent of the Afghan economy. So now I am speculating, since we have been there it now represents about 70 to 75% - is that an increase?
Here at home, heroin has made a combecak, albeit as LL Cool J said, "been here for years.". Based on data reported in the National Household Survey on Drug Abuse, there are an estimated 3,091,000 U.S. individuals 12 years of age and older that have used heroin at least once. Now even kids are being hooked on the stuff. In Texas for example, there has recently become a large corpus of kids as young as 11 geting hoked on the stuff. Really they are becoming addicted to a mixture of heroin and Tylenol PM , commonly called "cheese." News Reports suggest that they buy it at school with their "lunch money and snorted it through hollowed-out ballpoint pens."
I guess this will be another legacy of G.W. Bush. I mean, we suposedly making progress at least in the strong hold of the Taliban. But what do they do, they take us down with one stone, growing poppy to supply their military wing, and get our youth, the future military persons of our country, addicited to the same shit.