Do I Want To Talk About

I suppose my hiatus is over. It’s hard to blog sometimes. Events happen quickly. And by time I think to write about it – I’m not feeling it anymore.

Do I want to talk about Floridian Cannibals? No thanks. Makes me lose my appetite.

Do I want to talk about the NBA playoffs? I only want the Miami Heat to lose. Otherwise, I’m not interested.

Do I want to talk about the President? I would, I could, but we’ll see after November 2012. I usually get asked by a relative, “Is he really such an idiot?” I’ve been reluctant to answer, but lately … I’m hard pressed, you know? If you are a fan of the President, don’t be offended. It’s just that if he was working at a private corporation, he’d have been fired by now. You try saying it’s the last guy / gal who held your title / position is the reason for your sub-par performance.

Yeah, that’ll work.

Do I want to talk about EU and the imploding Greek, Spanish, and Italian economies? Nope. Really don’t care. I suspect if the President was a Republican they could comfortably blame America for their wonderful mess, but they can’t say jack. I hope they aren’t hoping for any bailouts from the USA,Β  ’cause we’s broke, ya’ll.

Do I want to talk about our wonderful, thriving economy? Nope. ‘Cause the President says, “The private sector is doing fine.” Still smoking that stuff, sir? #doingfine #Choom

Do I want to talk about black men who are face chewing, stalking, cheating, murderous, promiscuous, insane, damaged beyond repair nutjobs? Not for a very very very long time. I think I’ve OD on the subject. What more is there to say? Stay the hell away from ’em. If you can, leave Blackistan. Nuff said.

Do I want to talk about travel? I’ve got Singapore on the brain. So far away. Lovely steady temperature. And expensive as all out. I’m due for a treat. Aiming for next year. If I go, it’ll be the first flight since the airports put in the Rape-I-Scanners. #fingerscrossed

Do I want to talk about dating and mating with non-black men? It’s academic, natural and simple. If you are a heterosexual woman, there are attractive men out there you can bond with regardless of hue. Wanting and needing is normal and acceptable: You want a man. You need a man. There’s no shame in that desire. Just relax. Go easy on yourself. And keep looking.

Do I want to talk about obesity? Naw, why should I? Aren’t fat black women helpless bullied victims?Β  It is obviously everybody’s fault some of them are such a hot mess. Shoot. Where I work there is this obese, short, extremely unattractive black woman – her stomach rests on the chair seat – she needs to lean back to stand – she cannot see her feet if she looked down – she waddles in a circle when she walks – she’s a malodorous cloud of sweat, stink perfume and sulfur – she’s always bringing in fattening foods to offer to others (and she’s always on a diet) – she offers advice no one wants to hear – she’s the office “Mammy”.

And I live rent free in her little head.

Guess whose BODY she studies? Guess whose HEALTH she wants to fret about? Guess whose CLOTHING she’s obsessed with? Guess whose phone calls she listens in on? Guess who she wont leave the goddamn hell alone – day in and day out? I don’t talk to this person. I don’t acknowledge her. I’ve never mentioned anything about her looks, but people like her – it has to be she’s been dropped on her shrunken head one time too many as a child. I also get my share of nasty lip curls and looks of hatred from two other obese black women at work, but hey, it must be because I’m the reason they cannot put their forks down. Must be my fault. What do I get from everybody else who’s short, tall, dark, light or small? Normalcy. We say, “Hello”, and keep it moving.

It’s not the first time I’ve encountered this kind of crazy from these poor, innocent, polite, delicate, sweet-natured big boned girls. I don’t usually mention it, because I often put it out of mind. And I’m not even close to slender, I consider myself medium-size. (I used to be heavier. I know what it’s like.)

But black women, some of you really, really need therapy. You require years of counseling. Do not be ashamed of seeking professional help with your issues.

‘Cause I’m gonna tell you right now, other black women – who are minding their own damn business, working to stay healthy, and living their life – aren’t in your way. And no amount of hectoring, harassing, bitching, critiquing or beseeching is gonna turn us into the office “Beulah” laboring beside you.

So, you go on ahead, continue to commit suicide by fork. ‘Cause you are on that plantation all by your lonesome.

Do I want to talk about Scandal? Really enjoyed the show. It’s meant to be funny, right? ‘Cause I couldn’t stop laughing. Best new comedy on TV.

Do I want to talk about the movies? Nope. Haven’t seen any of those “blockbusters”. Nothing interests me. Not even Prometheus. Only because anything to do with Alien(s) gives me nightmares. Yeah, I’m a big child.

Do I want to talk about anything else? Perhaps. We’ll see. I promise myself I’d blog more. We’ll see.

Hope everyone is doing fine and fulfilling their dreams. πŸ™‚

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What’s On Your Mind? Mine Is Rather Blank

This is a free range post, so don’t expect too much coherence. πŸ™‚

News With No Opinion

I don’t watch the evening news. I read selective items online such as: local Weather, Technology, Health, Sports (at least when J-Lin was playing with the Knicks), Politics, Business, Economics, and hopefully stuff that wont irritate and annoy me.

One of the reasons you do not find me writing a comment about many of the latest news stories is that I realize by the third week, a lot of initial “facts” change. And even after that, sometimes it’s best to remain silent. What I say wont bring anybody back, alter government policy or reality, and unless I’m looking to make a point – my policy is to have no opinion on the matter(s).

Does that mean I don’t care? I care about my personal issue(s), my personal life and while I wish I could be affected by things people assume would affect me, I know they wont. It’s a long winded way of saying I don’t share the victim mentality that being black makes me less than, weak, a sorry excuse for a human being, powerless and unable to change. I cannot do the impossible, but I’ll try. And that starts with how I think about myself. That is the only thing I have the most control over: me.

Does that mean I don’t issue an opinion in other forums? Sometimes I’ll have some thoughts relating to a piece of the overall picture, but I’m unable to offer a solution. I don’t believe in group related solutions. Everyone’s situation is different. Everyone absorbs information differently. One person’s candor is another person’s insult. You know how it is sometimes, you wonder if people can comprehend English, because their understanding strays so far from the writer’s obvious intent. And then you realize these intelligent people are being deliberately obtuse. I used to troll. It was fun back in the day. So I get it.

Life’s Little Changes

I hope I’m wrong, but I’ve got an uneasy feeling coming over me. Maybe that’s how Spring is – one day it’s warm, next day Tornadoes are busting out all over.

So, I’m in a contemplative mood. My cat, who was only 12 years old, got ill – so quickly – and I had to take him to the vet. I lost something dear to me last week. I was surprised by the depths of my sorrow. I’m not the most emotional person around. I don’t mean stoic or long suffering. I wisecrack and laugh like everyone else, but I don’t let things bother me (like a lot of people seem to over topics online – I really could not care less). I’m not a huggy-kissy kind of woman, well, unless it’s with my man, otherwise… So I like who and what I like. I can only truly be bothered by friend and family matters, which are up close and personal.

Do I miss my little mongrel? Sure. I also had to take into account how much room I made for that animal in my life. I regarded my feline as a person. My family and friends would always inquire about my cat (long after meeting him). He was a true character. And I learned how to be patient with him. I learned how to look after someone other than myself (I am very selfish and not afraid to admit it). I’ve also learned that if I don’t succeed the first time, come back in a minute to try again. I made sure he was always comfortable, never went hungry, never went cold, and spoiled him rotten. πŸ™‚

He was very entertaining too:

– Whenever I was going to feed him, I’d say, “Eat”. And he’d jump out of the chair and run into the kitchen.
– He used to fetch little balls of paper after I tossed them for him to swat away.
– He used to follow me everywhere around the house, walking next to me like he had a leash on.
– If he wanted my attention, he’d get up on his hind legs, and while I’m sitting at the table, hold onto the table with one paw and tap me with the other.
– I’d say, “Come on” to leave a room. He’d follow.
– I’d say, “Stop that” or “No.” If he was doing something that irritated me. He would stop.
– I’d say, “Get out.” He liked to follow me into the bathroom. He would leave.

Maybe everybody’s cat did this. I had cats as a kid, but never one like this little fellow.

Would I get another cat? No. I like them, but when you’ve had one with such unique characteristics, you have to let that one be the last. And frankly, I don’t have the energy to invest in another one. A pet can take a lot out of a person. I’m a one-track kind of individual. I’m envious of people who can juggle multiple threads of their lives in the air, I’m not able to do that. And I accept that about myself.

RIP Buddy. I thank God for letting you into my life and teaching me so much. πŸ™‚

 

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Rape of Young Black Girls: Do We Ever Learn Anything From These Stories?

I would like to know. Frankly, I’m sick of knowing about these stories.* The reason is my feelings about what should happen to the perpetrators would fall under extreme cruel and unusual punishment. I’m all for sterilization, hangings, the electric chair, and putting the criminals to sleep like any animal that needs to be put down.

I would even air drop them down into war torn countries around the world, or have them put in those jails to rot away to get a taste of what real deprivation is like. They don’t deserve to be treated with any consideration of “human rights” – they lost that privilege when they committed a violent crime against a child.

However, due to the politically correct, idiot intelligentsia that never thinks of the victims or their families, along with their desire to show how morally superior they are, the punishment will never fit the crime. The sentencing will be delicate, plea bargained to a “lesser crime”, and the years doled out modest (always less than the actual sentencing).

The Details and Excuses Don’t Matter

As for the crime: I don’t care to know the minute details, the back stories, where it happened, why it happened, how many were involved or whether the victim was familiar with her attackers. The reality is young black girls are nearly always attacked, raped, brutalized by people familiar, or known, to them.

What I know of this case, like so many others, is someone’s baby girl was viciously and brutally attacked, and there are people (I use that term loosely) regarding this incident with an indifferent shrug. Or they’re more concerned about the well being or public regard towards the attackers. That’s how deep into hell certain “communities” have fallen.

There is no morality left.

There are folks who will expend more time worrying about the treatment of the perpetrators due to their race, their gender, whether they came from “broken homes”, and how the incident will reflect on the “community”. They will fling the usual monkey poo buffalo chips about racism (you know, the white man made them do it), poverty (jobs would have stopped them from being brutal rapists!), the girl at fault for being too fast, too sexy at 11 (she made them do it!), and the usual rabble about fair trials (’cause the “brothas” never get a break!).

It’s almost guaranteed we will hear that a majority of the attackers are “mentally handicapped” and have IQs of around 85 or room temperature. They couldn’t stop, because they were just playing follow the leader.

Despite the harshness of my crime and punishment stance, I believe every defendant is entitled to the benefit of doubt and the presumption of innocent. And if, or when, they are found guilty: hang ’em high.

Keep This in Mind: The Hell Pits Are Here to Stay

I’m sick of these horror stories, because I know within a few days there will be another, followed by another, and then another. It never stops.

I know it is hard for a mother (and father) to be around to protect their daughters. She has to work. Perhaps she has to take time to attend school on nights or weekends. Momma might even think a family member or friend is looking after her little girl, or assumes her daughter is safe among her own “friends.”

Black Women: You Have a Choice

Common sense should never be up for debate. Yet, there are people who just love, love, love to argue and drop major B.S. playing with the idea as to whether black women have the right to move away from the “community.” There is a mindset that all black women are community property. The black woman is the resource everyone in the “community” needs to help keep it going. There are always layers of excuses as to why she should continue to live in hell, in approximation to hell, or in this place that’s transitioning to hell, by helping to “fix up” what’s wrong.

In case anyone didn’t know: that is a black man’s job. If he and his boys ain’t willing: it is not her problem. Black women aren’t obligated to live in neighborhoods infested with criminals, because the residents sorta look like them or share cultural baggage. Marches, slogans, t-shirts, and pity parades for mercy wont change a damn thing.

‘Cause she cannot run away from her people. Right? I mean, really? Well, most of her peeps might be plotting to rape, rob, and possibly kill her. She has every right to run. And run now.

The only thing that matters is quality of life. It doesn’t include cowering in fear – or fronting like she’s fearless – from people that share a similar hue or phenotype while pretending there is a meaningful connection due to those factors.

With incidents like this, is it really worth it to stay?

I hope every mother (and father) who cares about their young black daughter(s) think about where they live, check the crime stats for the new neighborhood, and make that move. There are still cheaper, lower to low crime areas to live. America is a very, very, very big country. Hoodlums are not hanging out on every street corner.

There are safer places to reside.

Dear Mommas

Be vigilant. Be proactive. Please think about changing your life, make a move, because the one you save may be your own or that of your child.

*Note: the following are links to these types of stories. Thanks for the hat tips, Bellydancer.

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