I’m a blessed mf

I aint trying to be sentimental and shit, but I got to get this out of me, although I need to drop this piece I wrote about John McCain and another post on Cubans in Florida. and the US governments history of laying with dictators. You know today, I realized how BLESSED I was. I have been dealing with a lot of shit inclusive of automobile trouble lately, well the last 4 weeks. And as such, it required that I utilize close to 2700$ on a rent-a-car, well really several rentals. Today, I returned the rental and picked up my truck. It still needed a manifold and it sounded like a laboratory run by a mad scientist (I resemble that remark). But it was drivable and that was good enough for me. Lil momma was in the back seat and we were in route to pick up lil daddy.

We got Jones, stopped by the shop for a few and headed to the cut. As soon as folk got on the highway, it stopped, I mean it cut off, sounded to me like the alternator although Jones here aint no auto mechanic. I was just BLESSED that my cousin was behind me. She was dropping off a cell phone for my son since his mom took it away from him because she didn’t like his attitude towards her husband (I think they married). When her husband, the adult was the one who cursed at my son. No I didn’t take it there, but I felt like it. See it does pay off to have brain cells.

I pulled over between the median, right adjacent to Grady Hospital. I was upset but never frustrated. My cousin attempted to give me a boost, but to no avail, I mean everything worked electrically so it wasn’t the battery. I asked her to take my son and daughter to my house and that I would be there. I had no money. No checks in from Morehouse School of Medicine, but mainly because I had not hit the bank and would not be able to. They left and I kept trying. I would have called my folk, but my cell was dead. I know big slim (owner of Do It Right Car wash), or Red (Jet Bail Bonding) or Damon (owner M Bar) or Tony Oh or Smooth or any my folk would have been there but I couldn’t contact them. Then my folk Willie Mitch Drove by, and then Vaughn, we had all gone and graduated from Morehouse College together. We tried but eventually had to push the car to the road. The last person to stop was this State Trooper, Officer Patton (see u at the signing). He was professional and cool to the max. We all talked, folks that we knew blew their horns and it almost turned into a mini Freaknic. I signed a book for the Officer. And Mitch took me to the cut,

I was BLESSED. All of this on a day when Jose, hadn’t done what he said he would, repair my truck, and on a day when I found out my daughters mother, well how can I say…Well put it this way, my mom left me with my granny while she was at Vanderbilt in graduate school. She and my granny told me it was crushing to her to leave me behind. But each break, she would return and spend each and every hour of the day with me until she went back. I was only two. My daughter’s mom says she misses her little princes (i'm sure she does honestly) and that she dislikes her being a daddy’s girl, but I found out she was in Florida, sloshed on the back of some motorcycle during bike week. Now she will say I am bashing her when what I said about my mom, her sentiments, and her selecting the latter (self) ovr child is true. I say the truth will set u free and free your mind and your ass will follow (George Clinton). Any who, my point is, Truck broke down, I found about the aforementioned, cell phone was dead, no loot in my pocket, no job, but I had a shipment of dog food come in, shop coming along fine, my friends were there for me to depend on, my kids were safe, and I never got or felt down at all. In fact I just smiled, just like the sun was doing on this 75-degree day in the ATL. I am BLESSED.

But I figure if it is the truth, it is the truth. I am a BLESSED MF. Not to mention I have no shame in writing what I experience. George Bush even says we bash him for no reason at all regarding the Iraq war when 1] he said it was over 3 years ago on a battle ship and 2] that they had wmd’s. But I’m home now, I got a 40-ounce and kids are loud as fuck. I do regret now going over to Jose’s last Friday with my pistol. Didn’t mean to scare him, cause it got me a fucked up deal, but it was that South Memphis in Jones that just seeped out accidently. But what the fuck, I mean, I’ll just spend more on my truck. So yawl support your folk, just another poor starving writer of the mad scientist variety who acknowledges that there is a thin line between brilliance and insanity…..and them two post coming next week.

What’s it made off

As many of you know I do not like to write about entertainment, but today I will digress and do such. So please bear with me on my new endeavor. Down in this camp, the ATL, there a social event that will go on tonight called “Hot on the Runway.” It is a fashion show and concert that will be held it this joint called the Compound, which was founded by the Black Mafia Family (BMF). Performances are slated to be made by Atlanta’s own Blood Raw of CTE, Mario, Ray-J and Ashanti among others.

Now there is nothing wrong with fashion, or fashion shows. I even went to a fashion show once (my daughters mother was in it and said i never came to see her model) and although I cannot recall of the designers, and didn’t attempt to get any of the models phone numbers, what I recant most was that it was outside and that the had a barb-q pit and he was serving pork – and I simply loved that.

However, at this show, they have a promotional contest in which the will be giving away a $5000 red Dolce & Gabbana Crocodile Purse. Now correct me if I am wrong, but what can a purse be made of that make it worth $5000? Sure I know the obvious, but when I lived in Nigeria you could get them for $50 US dollars. I tried to find a picture of the purse but could’t because didn’t know WTF I was looking for, so one of my favorite beverages has to suffice for this post.

Now the way I see it, which may be foul, I could get 68.7 shares of National Oilwell Varco (NOV) or 40.7 shares of PBR (Petroleo Brasileiro), although it could by me a lot of Pabst Blue Ribbon also. But that is just me. But on the real, with the recession, and the high cost of education, and folks losing teir houses, why not give away a scholarship, or a down payment on a home, or even offer to pay $5000 on someone’s mortgage?

I just don’t get, I really don’t. To me, such action play into sterotypes tha are already debilitating. Such as buying cars over homes, spinners(Sprewell’s) over stock, and last but not least the ubiquitous flossin’ and frontin’ – which by definition means pretending like you got loot when you do not. As a people, we command a GDP of $688 billion. That’s way more than the highest GDP for an African nation (Egypt), which has an estimated annual GDP of $290 billion. Our estimated GDP is in the ranks with countries the likes of Spain and Mexico.

So what gives folk, when we gone stop and look at the big picture. 5 stacks could get me central air and heat for my home, and at least a years worth of gas. I just want to leave you with this think, cause if I spent 5 stacks, and it wasn’t on stocks, it better be some aluminum siding or stucco on my crib.

#1 son

I know I write a lot about fatherhood and what a great thing it is and how important being a father is to me. I also know that I talk a lot about lil momma. Namely because she is still new to me, being that she is going on three in June. But I want to say for the record that my son, well he is the shit too. He is likely the best son a person can have next to me LOL (love ya mom).

And I am not saying this because they won today in the last inning 6-5, making the Grady High School Knights 7-1 (1st place), nor because he is almost a “chip off the old block.” But because it is the truth. See although his mother has been in his life somewhat, I have raised him his entire life. When he was born, I commandeered a wheel chair and we rolled all around Crawford Long Hospital. He would be in my office at Emory in a walker, while his mother would be out clubbing, trying to find her girlfriend’s husbands. He has traveled to Africa with me on multiple occasions and was on his second passport by 8 years of age. He has been under my roof as well his entire life.

I am not saying this because I have coached him from age 4 to 14 in Little League baseball or AAU basketball at Ben Hill, the Fulton County League or Old national. But rather for the little things. Like the way he calls me Poppa, or the way he gets up on the weekend when I am tired and cooks breakfast for his sister.

And as I said, sure his mother has been in his life, and it used to hurt me like an Ice Pick in my right thigh (yes, i have been stabbed in my rt thigh with an ice pick) when he would say he didn’t want to go over to her house. Once I told him that if I ever heard him say that or anything negative about his mom again, I’d knock out his teeth. Sure he can be a knucklehead. Like this past semester when he brought home 3 A’s, 4 B’s and an F. Or like when he nailed this kid in the back of the head at school who swung on him. But Men aren’t we all at times?

I remember growing up Looking at Charlie Chan; he always had his number one son with him in the movies to help solve his cases. Biti (short for Thabiti which means a true man) is my number one son and my fist born. Yep, his name serves him well. He has seen it all with me, from cleaning guns to tracking wild turkey. When he was nine he said, “Poppa, when I’m 27 and old enough to have sex, I’m gonna carry condoms with me all the time.” I responded, “well little daddy, if u can’t wait until 27 just ask me for some. This past November, he did just that. “Poppa, can you bring me some condoms to school?” I said “Sure. You wanna do this, I mean are you ready, if it breaks to take care of a family as I do?”

I took him the condoms. He didn’t use them. When I asked what happened, he said, “she fessed…. But I wasn’t ready to take care of children like you do me and Chi.”

Like I said, nothing better than being a father and that it is the little things that mean the most, like when I came home sat from the shop, and he had mopped the kitchen floor. And all of this came to me while i was listening to Romeo and Juliet fantasy overture by Tchaikovsky (one of my favorites along with Ovarture of 1812 and Nutcracker).

Dick ridin’ aint my thang

Preface: I am a writer, I write what I feel or think, and don’t give a fuck if folks like or dislike; believe or don’t believe what I write, I write for me, it is cathartic. Secondly, I don’t blog to meet dames or impress bitches or women – there is a difference between the three. I write what is me, rather in book form, verse, this blog or the essays I write for newspapers, and even letters. I sign my name to all with pride cause I really don’t give a fuck about what others think about what I write – I am not Ralph Tresvant. In fact, I think a real writer don’t care what folks think or who even reads what the write. Ask The Morehouse school of Medicine. LOL. With that said.

Had a woman once tell me that my ego needed to be stroked; I corrected her and retorted “no maam, just my dick and my stomach and preferably the latter with neck bones, pig ears, hot water cornbread and/or ribs. My ego is cool, so I don’t worry about it but it is my id that I attempt to attend to.” Why do I say this? Well because I figure I know me better than anyone else. Most folks, even those who called themselves knowing or being close to me don’t. They tend to look at the surface contingent as opposed to the action, and use such to distinguish, and even worse define my behavior and what it means.

I know me. I know when I am hungry or horny, or aint had no sleep, I’m not the one to fuck with and can be vile, uncivil and uncouth, albeit folks say that about me anyway. I know that when folks disrespect, lie to me or play me like I’m dumb Jones that I shake and tremble, and have to control myself before shit hits the fan. But they don’t know me. I mean even my daughter mother thinks it means something else, like, well I don’t know what she thinks it means. If my team looses, I can’t look at ESPN or even get the next day’s paper.

When I am called crazy or disingenuous or stupid, I get quiet, or laugh, because stupidity or the suggestion of such is never entertained and considered by me as amusing and worse, a reflection of the thought processes of the one who advocated such - fatuous. Albeit, I do acknowledge the truism that there is a thin line between brilliance and insanity, which I cross all the time like a Mexican in Texas.

But the aforementioned is immaterial. I mean, the ego, is immaterial in my life, as a black man. I mean, if I give my all and put forth effort to be my all, and it is not respected or appreciated, I feel it is taken or that I am taken for granted, which I can’t tolerate. As a consequence, I tend not to focus on it as such. As a black man history has told and showed us what such gets us, typically jail or a noose around our necks. So I aint the one to deal with such. When I look in the mirror, I like and know what I see even if others can’t. Its not my problem nor fault, but rater theirs.

I am one that creates, one with sovereign values, as my old roommate from Morehouse, Malik calls God by nature. Since God is everything, the trees, war, love, sun and even me. I have never been one to follow, instead, I blaze new paths, and set my own trends, this is likely why I aint got no woman today. See I’m looking and require a Michelle Obama, a Coretta Scott King, as opposed to some trick that grew up watching Video’s and places herself above her family. This why I am currently unemployed, because I will not beg for shit but would rather speak my mind and take what ever consequence is handed down as a result of such. This is why I despise fuckboys, liars, and people who play games, because they can never see the real, and may even proffer the gumption to suggest I am playing games because I say what I feel and believe. I may not walk with the majority, but that is ok with me, cause in simple terms, I see myself as the “truth” and dick ridding aint my thang. For I am not my degree but rather my experience and actions, so don’t let the PhD and high IQ and collected street acumen fool you. For it is as ancient Memphis macks say, “see what I am saying, say I see.” vote

10 toes down

Had my son at the shop today doing inventory. Father’s point of order, aint nothing like having your seeds work with you. My daughter ran around, sitting in her rocking chair from time to time. Rolled over to Bankhead for a few to see my folk. Walked in the D4L studio and saw Mook B. He screamed “God” as we greeted each other accordingly. I didn’t see Born (Born Immaculate, President of D4L records), until he pointed to him, and I mean across the table and I didn’t even noticed. I gave them the books. I had been meaning to get over there after Born (Orange shirt in pic on my rt side) had text me last week. I saw Lil Mark Too and dapped him up (his album dropping this summer). They was like, “Lo on his way.” I was like, “my kids in the car folk.” As I was leaving, Lo (green shirt on left side of me) pulled up. He was with is youngest daughter. He was like where my book?” I laughed walked over, gave him dap, and as Mook B and Born, told them about the book release party. He told me he was having a show and said I’d be on the guest list. He said it, but I could tell he knew I wouldn’t be there. I went to some of they shows on Bankhead, but never when among the general public. Lo’s new album is hot, Mook and Born as usual, did most of the production. But they learned from the best and we been folk for about 16 years now. They started in my studio on 140 Walker Street in Atlanta.

But Lo got a song out now, and one of the lines say “I'm ten toes down I'm up the sideline tryin' to stay in bounds.” And in honor of that. I’m finna (I’m country) drop these ten toes this man abides by to stay I the field of play. For me it means:


1] That I do not want to die but that I dont give a fuck if I die to day, for I have lived each and every day as if it was/is my last. Inclusive of loving, caring and treating all as I do and desire to be myself.


2] That I internalize faith in God (not a christian, Islamic, Jewish etcera God) but God, such that it is embedded in my heart to the point that I have no fear of anything.

3] That I live my daily offerings as a person in terms of "I am" as opposed to "I got or have."

4] That I love my family, my kids, my friends, my woman as love is expressed from my heart, smile and actions; knowing that words with out action are meaningless.

5] That I either abstain from intimate interactions with women or select to "Bone and disown" until one can find a woman that will hold them down, protect you, comfort you, be there for you and allow you to love them completely with unconditional positive regard and support.

6] That I accept who I am and give completely who I am to all I come in contact with such that they can choose to be apart of my being or not; without decipt, falsehood or hate.

7] That I admit I know nothing so I can continue to engage my mental faculties and develop my mind until the day I depart this earth.

8] That I try to be completely honest and truthful and embody the greatness in all those I come in contact with; meaning I will always to try and find some good and acknowledge that good before the bad.

9] That i accept the differences of all I come in contact with, with grace, respect and appreciation and attempt to exhibit the value I see in others at all cost, even if at a detriment to myself.

10] That i will never be afraid to love, nor make excuses about my foibles, iniquities or any other short coming I may have as a single human being.

Riddle me this #2

First , if we had hit the free throws. Second, will get back to chking blogs like in old but been busy with shop. Anywho


I am driving down the street and get a call from my physician and he tells me I have terminal cancer and have 6 months to live, what should I do, or what would you do?

Is it better to jus drop dead without knowing, or would you rather know, and know how long you have to live?

What do women really want in a man and why do what they say they seem to want is what the seem to hate?

Do they do the electric slide at all weddings in the USA, or is it just a black thing?

Why is it that folks seem to want something for nothing? Example, my daughters mother gave me idea for dog store, but she has done no work, put no money down, but she wants to call it ours when it is mine. I deas are nothing with out loot and hard work. We cool but bizness is bizness.

Who is Bill Clinton boning now, because I never see him with his wife, madam senator?

What is the ultimate sign a woman can show a man that she hates him – for me it is pulling for my favorite team to loose (unless it is playing her favorite team at the time).

Why is it so hard for folks to sit down at the dinner table together for all meals? Or am I just the only one who still does that?

Last, is it ok for the mother of your child to ask for child support, but keeps her less than 2 days a week, and has her apartment and car paid by person who they asked for support, is that reasonable?

powell driver

Ok, Jones, main, your folk been putting in some work, albeit I feel I aint got to tell you that. I mean it’s just what I do. But it has been good. I was working with an interior designer, but she was talking crazy for a store for dogs, like it was some retro chic Lenox Mall boutique. I had someone else before her, but it aint pan out. But that being said, the ruminations have still been going on. I admit, I have been trying to stay away from the primaries, but it’s hard so I am going to drop this on you – thanks to a conversation with Kelso, UCLA, rooting against Memphis monkey ass. Otherwise, like I said, it has been good, not because around this time at age 13, Shakespeare penned his first play, which turned out to be Romeo and Juliet, but cause I have ratcheted the fortitude to write about politics once more and because Memphis throttled UCLA.

I have wondered to myself who would, will or would make the best running mate for Barack Obama. This is especially true since the mantra of the Clinton team is experience, experience and experience. It seems they talk and hammer the experience card more than her plans to deal with the recession or the conflicts abroad in Asia (Afghanistan and Iraq).

Unfortunately as the reader may expect, I will not take the “most electable ticket” route. Instead, I have dug deep in the shallow capacity of my brain to figure out what would make the most appealing and winnable ticket. I know the pundits have mentioned a few names, and some of them make sense to me.


The names that I have heard thus far include Senator Bill Bradley, Senator Russ Feingold, Governor Bill Richardson, Senator Chris Dodd, Senator Jack Reed, General Wesley Clark and last but not least, former Presidential hopeful Senator John Edwards. Sure there have been others including Governor Brian Schweitzer, Governor Kathleen Sebelius and Congressman John Murtha, but the last three don’t really cut the cake, especially Murtha with his history or shady political dealings.

However, I must admit there are some strong benefits to some in the first group. Bradley once ran for the presidency, and has strong name recognition, not to mention the championship ring he won when playing with the New York Knicks back in the day. Add to that, he could help him carry New York, thus he has a serious upside. Fiengold, well she is known for her work with the Republican winner, John McCain. For me, she has done enough damage to McCain from the way many in the GOP see it and thus, cannot add anymore by being on the Obama ticket. Bill Richardson has more up than down as well. Not only can he assist with the Hispanic vote, he also is a good man to provide some experience on Defense, AIDS and the economy. Then there is Governor Kathleen Sebelius of Kansas. She would help carry white women and would likely bolster Obama’s policy positions on energy, education and the environment.

I could talk about them all but like the above, I’d be talking about shit folk already know. This is why I don’t see any of the above being able to give Obama a winning ticket, electable yes, winning no. So I suggest that as a running mate, Obama select Colin Powell. Yes former Secretary of State and Head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Colin Powell. Obama is the ma to do it and it would definitely show up John “McCain/Feingold” McCain what reaching across the isle really is. America would love it and bam. White house folk.

Now you may laugh and suggest such is far fetched, but I want to recount the serious amount of thought, wandering thought I have put into this since December. In fact in my book, it’s a essay called remember this name, about Obama, written in 2004 that predicted he would run successfully for the democratic nomination – even against my libertarian sensibilities.

The Harlem born Powell is a Vietnam veteran. On his this second tour he was injured in a helicopter crash yet still was able to rescue his peers from the burning helicopter. For this he was given the Soldier's Medal. He has a MBA from George Washington University and even served as Secretary of Defense and National Security Advisor, under President Ronald Reagan.

So laugh all you want, but this is the winning ticket and don’t play the lottery. Show your hand folk, give me one better. In wrestling this would be called a pile driver, but I refer Powell Driver. Cause if he doesn't, MCain will lkely have Condie Rice as his.

ump ump umph

got this from Shae



Blog amnesty, true urban queen, Lisa C writes, anony miss, alice n wonderland, single black male, tc, afrobabe, flyest 1, mrsgrapevine, tias world, invisible blog, regina, Mika's realm, the hunnie blog, sugar & spice, television tracy, love babz, b12th planet, malibu, koffe dyme, black N married with kids, a lover's dream and brain splitter.

My book release party will be held at the M-Bar - April 24, 2008 from 7 to 10pm
257 Peters Street, Atlanta, Ga 30311- phone: 404 523 1555

a moment of silence

this is not a new post.
this is in honor of the KING.
So hit King link to read what has aready been said.

My book release party will be held at the M-Bar (image 2 rt)

April 24, 2008 from 7 to 10pm

257 Peters Street, Atlanta, Ga 30311

phone: 404 523 1555

Afraid to Parent

It was my intention to get the following off my chest last week. However, I was blessed with the notification that my latest book came off the press, and so I went with that. But something else happened that same day that has tormented me since it occurred. The same day my book was released, I went up to my son’s school to drop him off $80.00 for some baseball cleats (they just lost their first game, 8-5, canceled to rain now they 3 –1; he stole 4 bases). While there, I had to wait. A beautiful sunny Friday in Georgia it was. I was in a good mood because I had just secured painters to do the spot I had selected for my dog store. Yet at the same time, I was kind of up set. Not because of the day, because it had started out a little chilly. So I left the house knotted in a Khaki colored Canali two piece suits with 3 buttons, a multicolor blue stripped Pink (not the color) shirt and a pair of suede open toe sandals. Meaning my feet was cold well up until 2pm. Since I know most of the Black students at his school, I walked up the step to give some dap to one of his friends who played football and basketball with him. We talked and I asked him if he had seen my son. He said no. We talked more, and he informed that he had a 3.1 GPA when I asked about his grades. A young lady next to him asked if I was looking for my son and I said yes. Using her cell phone she called someone to tell him that I was waiting for him.
Eventually I saw him walking up the side of the school with one of his folk. He followed me to the car and I gave him the loot.

As I was pulling out of my parking space in the rental I was driving, a wave of students rushed toward me. Looking ahead, since I was backing out, I saw several boys fighting. Instantly I threw that shit in park, and with door wide open, ran to intervene. I would estimate about five boys fighting. As I handled one set of three, a mother whose son plays football, baseball and basketball with my son ran to assist me, at the same time, his football coach did too. It only took us about 20 seconds to break it up. All he time I am screaming at the top of my vocal cords to all involved “This is why jails full of folk like you already, yawl ass need to be in the library. I also turned to the crowed and said yawl stupid too running to a fight if they started shooting, yawl would have been wondering why you got shot by a stray bullet.

Coach came by and thanked me. I know they were kids, and that kids will be kids, but what I could not understand was how could maybe 20 or thirty other parents who were just as closer or closer than I was did not attempt to stop the foolishness? I even so one-man rush his son in the car when it started, and another lock their door. I could tell that coach saw the same thing because we looked at each other and just shook our heads as if to say it was a shame, to both the fight and the fact no other parents attempted to help.

I don’t know if it was what I observed as a child, seeing everybody in my neighborhood act as if they were my mother or father, or all my years of coaching little league baseball and AAU basketball that made me do what I did. Regardless, I felt it was what I was supposed to do as a parent, I mean, I felt if they were all my son’s and daughters. The only good thing was I didn’t mess up my suit, or stub my toes, and more importantly, I saw my son (in picture) and his folk still at the top of the stairs. They along with a few others did not run to the stupidity.

He did come back down to the car as I was getting back in and said, “Yo pop’s, You still looking good.”

“Main, I’m just glad you aint run too see it.”

“Well I would have, cause for a minute I thought they were gone swing on you and me and all my boys would have swooped on folk.”

I laughed, rubbed his head and said “Lil daddy, as long as yawl didn’t run to watch I’m cool, ‘cause any fool can fight, but a man can run away, and if needed, break one up.”

I just don’t get it, are folks really afraid to be parents and accept the responsibility and blessing to be such, or are they afraid to honor the parental commitment to kid, all kids in general? Maybe I was wrong for sticking my nose in and breaking up the fight. But what did I have to loose, other than my divine belief that we are all responsible for our community and our kids.

PS: Shouts to lil daddy, his 9 stolen bases leads the team and tied in district for lead. Grady High School Knights 5-1.