Who Will Officially Welcome Us to the 3rd World?

Before I get started, I would like for those of you who take the time to read to watch the video below...and then ask yourselves the title question.






My answer is probably no one. But one thing I know for certain is, you don't lose $2.3 trillion dollars and not feel the effects of it. The real question is, was it lost at all? Of course not. What is now taking place, and what has been taking place since 9/11 is a looting of the coffers. The current administration is lining their pockets and the pockets of their friends with your hard-earned tax dollars. When they leave office, they will leave this country in state that will make the depression era look like a picnic. When they pull back the curtain and reveal what they've been working on for the past 8 years, we will wonder how we allowed them to pull the wool over our eyes-but by then, it will be too late. They will be comfortably nestled in their air conditioned palaces in the United Arab Emirates, or Dubai, counting their ill-gotten wealth while the populace of this country settle old scores and annihilate one another in search of food, shelter, and the creature comforts we've all grown so accustomed to.

We are going to ask ourselves who was minding the store? And how did the wolves get into the hen house? I'll tell you how, they dressed up like sheep and baaaa'd their way in. Unlike Little Red Riding Hood, we ignored the large ears, big paws, and large teeth. We simply labeled them sheep and ignored the carnage-even when it was happening right before our very eyes. Enron was just a trial run-a reflection of what was to later happen to the government of this country.

When someone cannot account for $2.3 trillion dollars, someone should be sitting in jail until they can explain where the money went. I mean from the rooter to the tooter. The top guy and everyone he hired should be jailed until someone talks. When Rumsfeld made this announcement, it should have been followed by his resignation and a congressional investigation complete with independent oversight from an agency selected by the public.

Our representatives no longer represent the people. They talk at you and promise you the sun will come out tomorrow, but they have no intentions of fulfilling those promises. America will become a 3rd World country-and if there happens to be any civil unrest, Blackwater will be here to quash it, and not in a nice way. People will disappear, starve, become animalistic in their behavior and a lot of people are going to die. The anecdotal footnotes we hear on the evening news about civil unrest on foreign soil will be right at our doorstep, and most of us won't be prepared.

I urge you all to update your passports and keep a small amount of cash ($4000 or more) on hand, because just like in the depression era, when the banks close their doors, your money will be something of a memory.

TPOKW

Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe

I like to come home during my lunch hour, make me a sandwich, and watch the court tv shows until it's time to go back to work. Yeah, I know it's mindless garbage, but it's about as much TV as I'll allow myself to watch so I think I'm in no danger of having my I.Q. drop. One of the constant themes is the paternity shows. Everyone seems to be getting a gang of mileage out of them. I admit, unless he is just a total asshole, I root for the male. Call me sexist if you wish, but my support for men in these predicaments goes beyond loyalty to gender, it has more to do with knowledge.

Women know how many men they've had sex with. Simple. If a woman misses her period, unless she's a streetwalker, there's no mystery in her mind how many guys she's been within the past 30 days. If it's just one guy, unless she's Mary, mother of Jesus, there should be no question in her mind. But if she's had multiple partners, it becomes a guessing game on her part. But this doesn't give her a license to pick the one she likes the best. Sadly, prior to DNA, all a woman had to do was pick a guy out of a line-up and the burden of proof was upon him, and unless that child was a different race or the potential dad was on another part of the globe, his ass was stuck. Bottom line, there's no way for the dad to be sure unless there's a DNA test.

If a guy has doubts as to whether or not he is the father of a soon-to-be-born child, the great likelihood is, there's only one place that doubt can emanate from-the mother of the soon-to-be-born child. Sure, he can be a jealous, insecure individual suffering from paranoid delusions, but I'm not factoring in mentally ill people. I talking about those of us who function at an acceptable level of sanity. If you expectant mothers have had a sordid and questionable past, are morally challenged, or just a plain 'ho', how can you expect the man you've selected to reproduce with not to have doubt? I don't understand why women come on TV, scream and yell about the man doubting. If you're 1000% sure, (which is stupid because it's impossible-100% is the total sum, therefore 1000% is impossible), why not just sit down, shut up, and let the test do the talking? Why not just ask yourself, "Is there anything I've done in my past to cause this man to question my commitment to him?" If that answer is yes, then you have however many months left to your delivery date to go through whatever there is to go through-you've earned it. By lying and cheating, you've earned whatever animus he feels toward you. And when the baby is born, if you're so certain he's the father, now is the time you have to remove all doubt. But until such time, whorish behavior is most certainly the mother of his doubt.

There's no question who the mother of a child is, for obvious reasons. And knowing that the 'X' factor in childbirth is always the father, women should behave in a way that doesn't tarnish a man's view of both themselves during pregnancy, and the child thereafter. Women are in a tremendously crucial position to set the tone of the relationship that all parties experience for the rest of their lives. That position shouldn't be taken lightly by women. Talk about power? That is more power than any man could ever wield. A chaste and respectable woman will be the gem of any man who chooses her. She's in the driver's seat and literally controls the fate of their family. We men need to learn to respect those types of women and do our best not to harm them-lest they see no reason to behave morally.

That is all.

TPOKW

You've been hoodwinked. You've been had....

We all know those words to be those of the late, great Malcolm X, one of the 20th centuries' great phenoms. I am going to borrow them for a while, (with the expressed inferred consent from one freedom fighter to the next), for this blog entry. I awoke this morning from a quasi-bad dream. I dreamt that I was, once again, breaking up with Lexi's mother. We're not in a relationship, but in the dream I guess we were. And you know how stubborn people can be in bad relationships, well this dream was no different. I don't know why I had the dream, (maybe it's because Lexi's here with me for the weekend), but I had it. This is going to seem like a complete non sequitur, but the dream had absolutely nothing to do with the title of this blog, nor its subject matter. I just needed to get that dream off my chest. The anxiety associated with another break up was overwhelming-even in my dream. I awoke exhausted.

Yesterday, on the way to pick up my daughter, I was listening to listener-sponsored KPFK, a radio station that touts itself as the voice of the people. Obviously they've never heard what the people in Orange County, CA have to say, otherwise they would specify exactly whom they are the voice of. But I digress. There was a female M.C. being interviewed who goes by the moniker Medusa. At the very end, they played one of her tracks and I liked it. Very original, nothing canned and thrown together like what's out there already. The fact that they put the track at the end of the interview was her redeemer because I was going to completely write this chick off prior to hearing her music. The interviewer asked her a question that I don't quite remember, but I do recall her responding something like this, "It's time women shine and express our individuality and take our place at the very forefront." When I hear talk like this, it's like someone has taken their fingernails and scraped them against a chalk board. I just wanted to put my hand on her shoulder and tell this person, "Honey, those are words of death." What am I saying? Read on, I'll explain.

Like Malcolm X said, she's been hoodwinked. Individuality guarantees one thing, the death of the human species. Now, I know I'm not a scientist-and although I fancy myself a philosopher, we all know I'm not. But think about it, men and women truly need one another to survive. We've gotten so wrapped up in this individuality nonsense, we've forgotten that the very basis of our existence is the family-and some sort of communal living with other families. Yes, I said communal living. Sort of reminds you of the word communist or communism doesn't it? Well it should, they all are derived from the same root word. It is sad that that intellects allowed politicians to vilify the word communist. Without much investigation, the American population allowed themselves to be scared witless about a group of people who didn't really want to harm Americans, but protect themselves from American invasion. Anyway, it is communal living which is the very basis of human existence. We have a version of it here in the U.S., but it only mimics a true community in the close proximal living of its human inhabitants. How many of us have lived in a neighborhood where we didn't know our neighbors? That clearly cannot be considered a community.

Rugged individualism is not the true basis of a decent human existence. When you have a true community, everyone is connected to the success and failure of that community. This is what makes it so unique-everyone has a vested interest in its survival. But we don't even have that in the country that we're living in-it's a global community according to the powers that be-again, we've been hoodwinked. Most of us in this country know absolutely nothing about the residents of, say Uganda-so how is it that we're a global community if we know nothing about our community members? It's another attempt at divide and conquer and the Medusa's of the world are blindly leading the charge. What is it that any individual has to say or prove that is so important that it trumps the existence of the human species? What if Medusa and her time to shine feminist get their way, but the price to pay is the discontinuance of the human race, I wonder if they would think it was worth it? Ladies, look-I know that the feminist have told you that you got a raw deal and that all men are the devil, but such is not the case. First of all, speaking as a black man, in America, black men have never been in a position to systematically disenfranchise you, relegate you to a less than status, deny you employment, etc. So we should be removed from you list of devils. I bet you not one feminist has ever considered the statement I just made. But I can hear their response already, "Yeah, but given the opportunity".... Don't be so sure of that.

Individualism makes no sense. It would be synonymous to your engine, as an individual component being more important than say, your car tires. Now perhaps it's more expensive, but one flat tire can render the entire car inoperable-one tire. So how is it that an individual part can be more important than the sum of the whole? When you have a flat, your engine is fine and unaffected-and in all truthfulness, your car can still run, but in the most inefficient way imaginable. So one part can't be more important than another-but let one part fail, and the entire unit has now been affected. The same logic applies to we humans. Their are two main components to just about any life form-a male and a female. They make a unit, and when those two units are functioning properly, things run smoothly. But start to play with the dynamics of their interrelations and you begin to undermine the basis of their existence. I just don't think most of us look at it that way. Truthfully, their are no free moves in life. Our actions have consequences. And maybe those consequences don't manifest themselves right away-maybe they take some time, but you can rest assured that there will be a reaction to your action. And this game of one-upmanship we're playing is having dire consequences. Most American women don't even want to be mothers anymore. So now where will our future generations come from? I often hear women say that they don't want to be bogged down by some screaming brat. First of all, if you don't want a brat, don't raise one. Babies don't come out of the womb brats. they emerge, test the waters, and if there is no parental resistance, a brat is born. I am the father of four-none of whom were ever brats. They were and still are pretty obedient because they knew that, when I spoke, I meant business. I took my duties as their guardian seriously and I knew that there was no way that, with their lack of worldly experience, they should be allowed to behave as they saw fit. But maybe that's what a man brings to the table which is why a couple should raise a child-both have something to offer.

I so fear that I'm speaking into a vacuum and that no one hears me. But I've resolved myself to accept the fact that we may never get back to an existence where we are in harmony with one another, and with the universe. The ecosystem has a way of eliminating that which doesn't live within the rules of the universe. There was a time when we believed we could destroy the world-we've now realized that the only thing we have the power to do is make it uninhabitable for ourselves and species with similar survival mechanisms. Armed with that knowledge you'd think we'd stop with the nonsense-but we continue with self-destructive behavior. We all look at the drug addict, the alcoholic, the bulimic, and point out their obvious faults, but there are those of us who are being equally as damaging in our behavior, and on a grander scale-we're not just harming ourselves, but the entire human race. Yes, an individual has the power to do that (just like one tire, or a fuel pump, or a leaky hose has the ability to disable an entire automobile). Sadly, most of us don't know we wield that type of power. We are not only connected to one another, we're connected to the ecosystem and to the universe.

I don't know if we'll ever wake up and realize that there are no benefactors to the rise of individuality-it only creates animosity and fosters in-fighting. Not even the wealthy 1% of the population, who truly believe that the current system benefits them, are going to benefit in the long term. They don't hide the fact that they would like to see the world population diminish. And we could probably benefit from lessor people on the planet, but their agenda to enslave the rest of us while they live lives of luxury will only be short-termed. Eventually we will find a way to make this place eco-unfriendly and the masses will wonder how they allowed that wealthy 1% to convince them to discount one another and fail to see the necessity for unity and harmony, not only amongst ourselves, but with nature. Medusa, and those like her, may one day achieve individuality, but at what price?


TPOKW

She's Not As Mad At You As You Think

I have the luxury of coming home for lunch everyday from work-I live about 3 minutes away. My routine usually consists of making a sandwich and watching about 45 minutes of the court shows-you know, Judge So-and-So. Today I was watching Judge Christina and there was a young girl who was suing the father of her child for the cost of diapers, formula, etc. This is pretty typical behavior of a certain ilk, but I'm not judging, just saying. The young lady made a comment that struck me as odd. Her baby looked like a newborn, she couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 months old. During the testimony, she lobbed an assault at the boyfriend and told him, "You don't care about the baby, you never ask how she is." I thought about that statement for a few seconds because it didn't really make any sense to me. I mean the baby is 4 months old-how altered could her existence be that someone would have to ask how she is? She just got here, and she's still got the wobbly neck and eliminates waste at the most inopportune times. Common sense tells us she'll be that way for quite some time. Furthermore, is there some list of behaviors that women have that informs them whether or not a man cares about his child? If so, I would like a copy so that I could rip it a new asshole. I don't know how many times I've heard women say, "He don't care 'bout this baby, he never calls." Never mind the fact that the baby's 1 year old. Yeah, I guess there are those who would consider a man who sits on the phone with a unintelligible baby for more than 2 seconds a loving father, I consider him an idiot. Besides, don't you have something better to do with your time, like earn a fucking living? I mean, come on, your family does have to eat don't they?

But back to the "You don't care about the baby" statement. First of all, that statement was not directed at her boyfriend, it was directed at her absentee father. That's right, you heard me, her father. She, in my opinion, is expressing the feelings of abandonment that she felt as a child. Think about it, the statement makes no sense. The baby isn't even a year old and already she's written him off as an uncaring father. Not to mention the fact that she put another man's name on the baby's birth certificate. What kind of retarded bullshit is that? You put another man's name on the baby's birth certificate and I'm supposed to act like you didn't. Someone please teach women the law of cause and effect. If you list someone else as the father, how the hell am I supposed to feel all cozy with the baby? Doesn't that cast even a slight suspicion of doubt? I just don't understand some women today. I'm required to behave in a certain manner and not deviate from that behavior no matter what you do. It's the same philosophy women have about men hitting them. They can hit you all they want, but a man's not supposed to hit a lady. I know we're not supposed to, but if you hit me, next week might be when you regain consciousness because in my book, you're not supposed to hit me either. And if our government can kill innocent men, women, and children all in the name of bringing democracy to a country that didn't ask for it, I can retaliate against someone who has struck me. Am I a woman beater? No, but I'll defend myself against anyone attempting to do me bodily harm-only a fool would do otherwise.

Men, when your women says some shit to you that, for the life of you, you have no idea where it came from-know that she really meant to say that to her dad; the man that abandoned she and her mom years ago and she's been waiting to make someone pay for that shit. And here comes your unknowing ass, all in love and looking to build a family with someone whose sole intention is to make you pay for some shit somebody else did to her. When she tells you If you love me you would... those are the things that she expected her father to do, but for whatever reason, he wasn't around to do them. Years and years of anger, frustration, hurt, feelings of unworthiness and abandonment have built up inside these women and when someone of the same gender as their dad shows them any attention, she lets you have all of that pent up emotion.

Think about it. A father is supposed to protect his daughter and make her feel safe. All she has is her mother-who is just as scared as she is. They are two frightened beings in a household unguarded by a male presence. Yeah, I know they yo all of that I don't need a man nonsense-and to a certain extent it's true....'til it gets dark. That fear sets in and anxiety builds. Sure, if there was an intruder you might be able to blow his head off, but you also know that having a male present in the home is often a deterrent. If you think about some of the behaviors of, okay I'm going to say it, black women, it's what frightened people do: loud talk-unnecessary bravado, quick to anger. All of that is to mask a fear of being alone in a world that is dangerous and, to a degree, unstable. Imagine being raised in an environment where there is constant fear. When a young woman finally grows up and gets with a man, there a sense of relief and a feeling of security-and then she gets mad because she never had that growing up and in ways she can't discern on her on, is asking you where you were when she was growing up. How come you didn't make her feel this way back then when she was 8 and frightened every night because she sensed that her mother was frightened as well and there was no security to be found-just fear as a constant companion. Not the way you want humans to grow up.

If there's one thing we can take from this as men, it's we have to stick around to raise our daughters. Why, because they grow up stable and feeling secure and in turn raise better men. One of our generations is going to have to bite the bullet and take the brunt of the black woman's anger. Yeah I know it wasn't you that made her feel this way, but it's going to be necessary that you pay the price for someone else's nonsense so we as a people can flip this thing back around. I'm guilty of not wanting to hear the bullshit and pay the price too-I walked out on plenty of them in my day. But I didn't know any better. Yes, she is mad, and she's scared, and she's insecure, and she overeats because she's denied all other creature comforts. We as men have got to do better by our women. We're denying them the one thing that Maslow said that we all need to develop into fully functioning human beings (see diagram below). In Maslow's theory, the needs on the very bottom rung of the hierarchy have to be met before the individual can advance to the next level. If a person doesn't have food, water and shelter, there's no way they can feel secure-which in turn means they can never advance to a level of love, so on and so forth. And many of us today are stunting our children's development by unknowingly denying them some basic needs necessary for development.



No wonder she acts a damned fool-she can't even ascend to the level of feeling love because she's too damned scared. There's too much knowledge out there for us not to turn this thing around as a people. In the very near future, we're going to need one another more that we've ever needed each other in the history of human existence. And if we don't begin to prepare now, while we have a little free time, we may be torn apart forever.

TPOKW

Responsibility

This is definitely going to be a random entry-but before you turn tail to go watch reruns of Seinfeld, read on, it'll be juicy. Wednesday night I was having a conversation with my youngest daughter's mom and she made a comment that I've heard before, but let slide. She mentioned something about all the shit I'd done to her. After I hung up the phone, I started thinking about that statement-what the hell is this bitch talking about?

I then devised a solution for this dilemma. She should write a list of all the shit I've done to her, and on the right hand side of that list write one of two words: Proactive or Reactive. I'll bet you the ratio would be 9:1 (9 R's to 1 P). I think what she, and most people fail to realize is sometimes you unthinkingly do or say things that set other things in motion. You don't recognize what you've done to precipitate the reaction, because most of us walk around mindlessly just doing shit. It often reminds me of a phrase I used to use when working in the music studio with friends: Like in a nuclear facility, there are no free buttons. You can't just go randomly pushing buttons in either a studio, or a nuclear facility without something occurring. Now of course the consequences of doing so in a nuclear facility are far more dire than doing so in a recording studio, but I think you get what I mean. If you don't, let me break it down to you in it's simplest form and then we'll work our way back up to the more complex.

Let's say you're sitting in your living room watching Living Single reruns, eating bon bons, and curled up in your favorite blanket. It's about 5 p.m. and you had the day off. All of sudden, the lights, T.V., and every other electrical appliance in your home ceases to function. First thing you do is peek out the window to see if anyone else lost power. You see the familiar glow or your neighbor's T.V. through her front window, so you know it's not a community problem-you power's been cut. You pick up the phone and dial Southern California Edison (or insert your local power company here) and you ask them if there is a problem. The rep politely replies Not on our end. But in the same breath she informs you that, since you didn't pay your bill, well, your service has been suspended, (I like when they use that word-it seems so courteous). Now you commence arguing about SCE's billing system-BUT WAIT!!!!! Did you pay your damn bill? What was that? You were going to but your boss didn't give you time off to go on that skiing trip so you shopped your ass off to make yourself feel better and figured you would postpone making the payment another 60 days. I have one question: Is there anything you've done in this scenario to precipitate the suspension of your electricity? AHH-AHH-AHH-wait, nothing about what your boss did, or about the power company, this question is directed at you and is solely about you. What was that? A little louder-did I hear you say you should have paid your damned bill? I thought that's what you said.

Now if this scenario was on my ex's list of offenses, she would have to scribble reaction. SCE reacted to you proactively not paying your bill. Are you all with me here? Good, now let's get back to my ex's imaginary list.

It would probably read something like this:

1. Cheated on me (R)
2. Tight with money (R)
3. Impatient (R)
4. Mean (R)

And I'm sure there are more but I don't want to bore you. The (R) would indicate the offense was a reaction on my part and not a proaction.

CHEATING

Ahh yes, a lady's choice. This is the one that women just love to tout as an irreconcilable offense. But let's take a closer look. Were you fucking your man or giving him the attention he needed from you? Or did you use your pussy as a weapon against him? Ladies, I'm going to highlight a well-known fact here. If you won't fuck your man, unless he's Quasimoto of hunchback fame, there is an entire community of women out there just waiting to fuck him for you. And I guarantee you some of them are either related to you, or shop with you, or party with you-you get my drift. I am going to say this publicly, lest someone one day says that they have not been warned: If I'm dating you, and you choose to use your pussy as a weapon, I will neutralize your attack by fucking somebody else-don't take it personal because I won't take it personal if you refuse to fuck me. Now if you're ill, having social, sexual, or mental difficulties I understand and the rule does not apply. But if you're being spiteful because you didn't like a comment I made, you'd better be prepared-I'm back into my hunter/gatherer mode.

This is a major difference between men and women. A man will fuck you even if he's angry you-to him it's like refusing to breath because you don't like hot days. If he's decided not to fuck you, you can pretty much figure he's done with you and whosoever you decide to fuck at this point, matters not to him.

TIGHT WITH MONEY

Your honor-guilty as charged. But why am I tight with money? Because you have to put money away for those times when the transmission goes out on your car, or you lose your job unexpectedly, or someone falls ill. Money is the lifeblood of this society and without it, you pretty much can wrap it up-you're done. Spending it frivolously will have you like the individual in the previously mentioned scenario. Besides, you don't need those new shoes anyway, you've got a closet full of them.

IMPATIENT

I stand accused. And that's because when I'm ready to do something, I'm ready to do it. Case and point-a couple of weeks ago, my ex and I took our daughter to her school's Fall Festival. My ex knew I would be at her house around 1 pm. When I arrived, I waited at almost 2 hours before we walked out the door. Now mind you, none of this was my idea-it was her idea to take our daughter together as caring parents-how could I refuse? But at least be ready when I arrive. If you know I'm impatient, why test my impatience? Secondly, the very next day when I was bringing my daughter back to her house, I told her I would have her back around 3 p.m. I get a call around 2:30 informing me that no one would be home 'til 7 or 8 p.m. Now, mind you, I'm already on my way. Why wasn't I informed of this the day before when we discussed when I was bringing her back? Or maybe a few hours earlier? I believe I've justified the (R).

MEAN

Most people who know me personally know that, by nature, I'm a kind and warm-hearted person. But make no mistake, I can be meaner than a rattle snake on hot desert sand if you push-and you really don't have to push too hard. My ex has pushed me and sometimes without realizing she's pushing me-because like I mentioned earlier, some people go through life unconscious of the moves they make and the consequences of those moves. When I interface with people like this, I usually make concessions. The only problem then is, if the consequences haven't occurred because I've preempted the action, I'm painted mean. Once my ex told me that I was stingy. My reply to her was, "Yeah, and you're broke-you decide which you'd rather be." I know it sounds harsh and I'm such a bad man, but my responsibility is to make sure that my family has all of what it needs-now and in the future. And if that means I have to be stern and frugal, I'd rather be considered mean and stingy than to sit at home wondering when SCE is going to turn my lights back on.

In a lot of ways I'm a no-nonsense guy. I like to have fun like the next guy, but not the expense of food, shelter, and necessary amenities like electricity. Have I been irresponsible in my day? Yes, there were times when I fucked around and didn't pay bills on time-but I never complained when my shit got cut off, because I distinctively remember tossing that final notice in the trash the day it arrived in the mail. So who's really to blame? Hell, they even sent the notice on bright pinkish-red paper, how could I miss it? And the excuse I usually get is, "Well, you even said that you were irresponsible at one time. Give me time to correct my mistakes-like you had." Let's say your traveling down the main thoroughfare in your fair city and you cross over into the path of a semi truck-how much time would you like to correct your mistake? If you're aware you're making errors, why prolong correcting them? This is what my mother refers to as trifling. And it's also what sometimes makes me unpopular with women I date-I will highlight an area that is in need of correcting-and I hope you will do the same for me. Because I hope you're not telling this to berate me, I hope you're telling me out of love and the want for the both of us not to have to dig ourselves out of a hole.

As I mentioned in my opening, this was going to be random-I guess I'm just venting. But hopefully you've all gleaned something of use from my rant.

TPOKW

The Pu**y Hunt

I was on my way home today from a weekend with my youngest daughter and I began to think about the beautiful bond that she and I have. I had deep reservations about becoming a father again, but that was 6 years ago and I have an obligation to be a father to her-no questions asked. But it's not a one-way street, spending time with her is more rewarding to me than words could ever express. But I can't help to think that if I was the pussy hunting type, I might not take my obligation to her so seriously.

Some of the men that I know, and some that I don't but hear in conversation, are truly on the hunt for pussy. I'm not saying that I haven't been in my day, because God knows I've hunted (and captured). But there was always a caveat-if you were someone who proved themselves to be a decent human being, there was always a chance that our encounter could evolve. In fact, some of my casual tryst did evolve into relationships-some of them even long-term. I never looked at a woman as just pussy-I was always prepared to take her in her entirety. I've slammed black women in the past about their present behavior, but it's time to speak to black men. I don't know what came first, the attitude of black women, or us reducing them to just pussy. Who doesn't want to be loved in their entirety? And if pride is to be found in the hit & run, why wouldn't we as a community end up where we are now? Black women raising our children alone. It isn't fair to black women, nor is it fair to our children. And as quiet as it's kept, it's not fair for black men to do this to themselves.

I liken this whole thing to a relay race-once a runner completes his leg, he passes the baton to his teammate and then he runs his leg until the race is complete. But when runners drop the baton, the entire sequence gets out of whack. Now I'm not excluding myself from this chastising. I too am guilty. Seeing my kid on the weekend and during holidays doesn't cut it. I witness the anguish in my daughter every time I walk out that door-she cries and sometimes has to be restrained in order for me to leave. Not only does that hurt me, it has to be destroying her inside. Not only does her mother and I not see eye to eye, we don't even use the same body parts to see. But I would seriously consider reconciling with her for my daughter's sake. I would make that sacrifice-I know it would be a miserable existence, but that would be a suffering I would deserve. My daughter doesn't deserve this pain.

I know I'm breaking ranks by saying this, but we men have to grow up and stop reducing women to just pussy. And we wonder why they walk around with their asses and titties hanging out-that seems to be all that we're interested in. I'm not saying all of us, but we all know that there is a badge of honor bestowed upon the ones that get the most pussy. That is such an adolescent view of manhood and I wish we could do away with it.

I can honestly say that I wasn't on a pussy hunt when my daughter was conceived. I had been in an off and on relationship with her mother for almost 8 years. But if I had a chance to do it all over again, I would have married her the moment she told me that she was pregnant. To hell with whether or not we got along. What happened to the men that manned up when a child was conceived? Back in the day, you dropped out of high school and got to earning a living for your family. I know that opportunities for drop outs are far less these days, but I was a college graduate when my daughter was conceived. If I had a chance to do it all over again, I would do it differently.

To the men out there (and you know who I'm talking about) who stuck by and through all the madness to be a father to your children, I commend you. Those of you who put your petty personal wants and needs aside to be husbands to your wives, parents to your children, and upstanding members of your community-I wish we could bottle and sell whatever it was that kept you in place-even when you felt that you weren't being appreciated by your mate, you stuck it out.

Sometimes I wish I was half the man.

TPOKW

Introducing...The One

A Lesson for Those Who'll Listen

Last night I received a phone call from my soon-to-be ex-wife and that's usually the case when I begin thinking about how she's doing-she always calls. I allowed her to express herself a bit more last night-normally I don't allow the conversations to stray past 2 or 3 minutes. Other than the veiled references to suicide, I was glad I allowed her the opportunity to get things off her chest.

As most of you regular readers know, there was an incident shortly before our break up that landed me in the slammer for 4 days. She threw a dinner plate at me causing a deep laceration on my back, and I did what any attacked individual would do, retaliated. Right decision in the animal kingdom, wrong in a world of individuals who consider themselves above the rest of life forms. While locked up, my wife took a $5400 check belonging to me, found a way to cash it and kept the money.

I had but one question for my s.t.b. ex-wife: didn't you realize everything you did subsequent to hitting me with the dinner plate almost guaranteed there would be no reconciliation? Her response to me was, "I thought you would forgive me." For the past 16 hours, I've pondered her response. I don't know who's at fault for her believing I would forgive her. It is hers for being foolish enough to believe that harming people is forgivable? Or is it mine for setting unrealistic expectations by forgiving so many of her past transgressions?

Here is where forgiveness gets tricky and why it should not be toyed with. The forgiver is placed in a position whereby if he/she forgives the first transgression, they open themselves up to being transgressed again (because the transgressor might believe that forgiveness is the order of the day). If the forgiver decides not to forgive and separate from the would-be forgivee, they might overlook what might have been an obvious mistake on the part of said forgivee. Either way, it is the forgiver who is always the individual with the most to lose. The would-be forgivee gambled when they decided to transgress, and deserves to be in a position to lose something. The innocent always pays the higher price.

This is why I try to live by a philosophy and have done so for many years. I believe wholeheartedly in First do no harm. That basically means that I will never harm you if you do not harm me. But I believe I am in need of modifying my mantra, Never do harm. With my first belief, I always allowed myself the luxury of harming you if you harmed me. Doing so meant I stayed in contact with you, otherwise how else would I be able to do you harm? With the updated version, immediately when I am violated, you are jettisoned from my life. I'll never have to do you harm, and you'll never be in a position to harm me again. I know this sounds all Zen and flowery, but don't get it twisted-I will harm someone if they make me. And the membrane between someones safety and someone being harmed is extremely thin. My advice to people is not to toy with it.

In some ways, I feel so responsible for where my wife is today. Had I just left in the beginning when things went extremely south in the extreme beginning, she wouldn't be in so much pain. But in a macabre sort of way, I knew that her pain would be severe when we separated, and I did nothing to spare her-even though I knew leaving her in the beginning would have done just that. In some ways she deserves it because she was given so many opportunities to make our marriage a success. I, in no way, feel that I have an obligation to teach her a lesson-that is not what this is all about. I've separated and will be divorcing her for my own protection and sanity, not to cause her pain. Quite frankly I wish she would find someone else and move on. I wish she could forget about me and not be in such a miserable state-for her own sake. I don't need her to suffer in order for me to heal. My healing is an independent process and I am happy to report is progressing smoothly. I know that I did my best, I know that's all anyone can do and when you can't do anymore, you move on.

I hope that she makes it through this and learns that forgiveness is not to be toyed with. It's not a get out of jail free card. It should be reserved for those situations when you've made a seriously grave error in judgment-not for premeditated acts of aggression with the hopes that someone with a good heart will show you sympathy. And I hope the message hits home for those of you reading too-forgiveness is divine, but not required.

TPOKW

P.S. I still love her.....

The Good Book

It's approximately 6 a.m. on the west coast and many of our people around the world are either preparing to attend one of many religious congregations around the globe for spiritual enlightenment. Be you Christian, Muslim, or Jew, black people have always been beholden to a higher power. Most of us draw strength from what is referred to as The Good Book. Well this morning I was awakened with a message that I thought I should share with you.

At approximately 5:18 a.m. I heard what sounded like the ring of a cellular phone-but it wasn't. I keep my phone on vibrate, and I live alone. As I lay in darkness trying figure out where that sound came from, the following message popped into my head.

Let's say we were playing a game of Monopoly, the popular board game invented by Milton Bradley almost a century ago. As we all know, there are rules to the game, and many of us can play the game without consorting the rule book. We all know you must own three properties of like color prior to buying houses, and there are a certain amount of houses you must purchase before you are able to purchase hotels. Common knowledge when it comes to Monopoly, correct? I knew you all would agree with me. Let's say we are playing Monopoly and someone decides to play by a different set of rules that gave them an advantage, what would you do? Most of us would either quit in protest, or begin to modify our style of play to level the playing field. This is a simple board game, and it wouldn't take long before we adopted a new agenda in order to remain competitive. So why is it we haven't done the same thing in real life? We've been living according to a book, told to us to be the word of God, for centuries now, and no one else is playing by those rules. In fact, some black people have convinced themselves that they are abiding by the book, when in fact they are not-and that is worse than abandoning the book altogether.

We all need spiritual guidance to a certain extent. But if you look at the religious congregations in our neighborhoods (especially the ones in major cities), some of them are the epitome of opulence. They profess to be pillars in our communities, but pillars of what? They haven't managed to rid our communities of drugs, prostitution, gambling, child neglect, gang violence. They profess to be the way, but they are about as effective to the ills of our community as penicillin is to HIV. Yet we migrate to them every Sunday morning to be administered a placebo that not only hasn't healed us, but has done us far greater harm than it has ever helped. We've been paralyzed by the message and rendered useless by the Good Book.

Rarely do you find me in one of their houses of worship, but I recently, out of love for my family, attended the baptism of my 6 year old niece. During the ceremony, I noticed during the multi-media presentation projected on the jumbotron, several quotes from several different versions of the bible. I found this to be strikingly odd. There's the King James Version of the bible, the New King James Version, the New American Standard Version, and the list goes on. Why the need for so many versions, and which now is to be considered the good book? In my opinion, they are all interpretations of the word of a God none of us has ever seen or heard. Yeah, yeah, I've heard the bullshit about he's known through his works, but why does He choose to be so ethereal and mysterious? It sounds like cruel and unusual game. In my summation of this whole religious fiasco, here's what I've gathered: There's this God who creates all the heavens and the earth, by himself without assistance from man. Then he creates man, and now needs him to help him spread his word. Never mind the fact that I have this ingenious system of passing down genetic traits, I am going to have you exist for centuries without knowing or spreading my word until you can devise this thing called a book to spread my word with. Huh? Come again? That makes about as much sense as me creating you without feet, and then one day you devise a pair, and me, God, give you a pair of shoes and say, "I've been holding these for you until you found a way to make feet."

Furthermore, I'm going to surround you with so much death and destruction, AND subject you to all sorts of abuses and then tell you that it wouldn't happen to you if you walked with me. Or, this is my way of showing you my abilities. That doesn't sound like the God with the angels and the harps and the like to me. That sounds like that other guy with resort south of heaven that is hot like Arizona, but hotter.

God has no use for man-made books. There are no books needed for the changing of the seasons; no books needed for the ebb and flow of the ocean; no books needed for the cycle of life-it all happens without the need of a good book. And wouldn't the notion that there is a good book indicate the fact that there's also a bad book floating around somewhere out there. There have been so many historical translations and edits to the supposed word of God, most of which have been altered to serve the needs of a certain unsavory ilk. It was said that King James had a scripture removed because he felt that it was the very scripture that promoted the death of his mother, Mary Queen of Scots. Now if he's adding and removing scripture based upon personal preference, how close can this be to the word of God?

It seems as though, in this day and age, we would have come out of the foggy haze that has seemed to have clouded our God-given common sense. If this is the same book that the raping, murdering, thieving, slave masters read and quoted daily...how holy can it be? Or maybe it is holy in it's edited state. Maybe no one is using it as a rule book any longer. And if this is the case, why do we pretend to do so as well? Let's cut the fucking shit and call a spade a spade. If you're drinking yourself into a stupor and fornicating like rabbits Saturday night, and then stumbling your worthless ass into church the next morning thinking that you're making amends for you unrighteous behavior, you're not fooling anyone but yourself. If there is a God, do you think he's going to give it shit that your blasphemous ass was in church Sunday morning when you were in an orgy Saturday night? If I were He, my answer would be no. Am I against drinking, fornicating, and promiscuity? No, I've probably at one time and in one form or fashion participated in it all. But I'm against those who straddle the fence professing to be one thing but practicing another. Furthermore, you have no concern for your community. You are just there (in church) to make amends for your frivolousness. Wait, wait, wait-wait a fucking minute. It just hit me. The purpose of the Church is no longer to help the community-it's sole purpose now is to make you feel less guilty about your wanton behavior. Ahhh, it makes sense to me now. No wonder the church hasn't been effective in curing the communities ills, it's like a personal bank account whereby customers go in to manage their diminutive accounts, ignoring the fact that the combined total of those accounts yields more power than they do existing individually. Ok, so then the assertion I made once about curing the ills in the black community was correct. I would get rid of about 10 percent of the population. Take that to mean whatever you wish, 10 percent of you would be gone-more if was necessary. Because you're only out for self and your community as a whole means nothing to you.

The Roman Catholic Church once fell under scrutiny for selling passes into heaven. Yeah, imagine that, man turning passage to heaven into a e-ticket ride at Disneyland. This whole thing disgust me in the worst of ways. My hatred and contempt for its very existence burns a hole in me the size of Tokyo. Professing to be pious while you mislead, murder, torture, and abuse people conjures up feelings inside of me that are indescribable. And to know that, at this very minute, millions of you sit in silence listening to worthless banter about changing your ways and honoring God, when the messenger is corrupt, and what you intend to do with the message is even more incorrigible causes me to weep for humanity. And you wonder why "God" off's so many of us throughout the history of the bible-we just can't steer clear of our sheep mentality. We refuse to use the brain God gave us to know when we've deviated from the path.

If there is a good book, we'd never see it-and if we did, we wouldn't know what to do with it anyway. It would probably contain too much information that would cause us to have to do something that resmembled personal reformation, and who has time for that? For the sake of my children and, hopefully one day, my grandchildren, I hope that the eyes of the masses are opened and we dispense with the idol worship and get back to the root of true religion. Our lives weren't meant to be lived so meaninglessly.

TPOKW?

Footnote-In my research for this posting (yes, I do research sometimes), I discovered that the latin version of the bible used was called the Vulgate. The word seemed too close to the word vulgar for me to ignore the similarities so I looked up the two words and this is what I've found.

Vulgate |ˈvəlˌgāt; -gət| noun 1 the principal Latin version of the Bible, prepared mainly by St. Jerome in the late 4th century, and (as revised in 1592) adopted as the official text for the Roman Catholic Church. 2 ( vulgate) [in sing. ] formal common or colloquial speech : I required a new, formal language in which to address him, not the vulgate. 3 ( vulgate) the traditionally accepted text of any author. ORIGIN from Latin vulgata (editio) ‘(edition) prepared for the public,’ feminine past participle of vulgare, from vulgus ‘common people.’

vulgar |ˈvəlgər| adjective lacking sophistication or good taste; unrefined : the vulgar trappings of wealth. • making explicit and offensive reference to sex or bodily functions; coarse and rude : a vulgar joke. • dated characteristic of or belonging to the masses. DERIVATIVES vulgarity |ˌvəlˈgaritē| noun ( pl. -ties) vulgarly adverb ORIGIN late Middle English : from Latin vulgaris, from vulgus ‘common people.’ The original sense was [used in ordinary calculations] (surviving in vulgar fraction ) and [in ordinary use, used by the people] (surviving in vulgar Latin and vulgar tongue ).

For those of you who may have difficulty grasping the point, I'll make it clear to you-those in charge of instructing you about God looked down upon you. The text used to instruct you about religion was edited for your consumption. How much of your best interest could they have taken to heart if you were considered beneath them. If you question any of this, look at how the Roman Catholic Church treated the indigenous people of the Americas when first they arrived. Wake up people.

The Man Who Copied

Okay, those of you who know me know that I am a closet hopeless romantic. My tear ducts have been known to become active during a good movie. Like most men, I have the tough exterior that makes you think I eat pig iron for breakfast and urinate molten steel-but in reality, I'm a softy when it comes to a good love story. And since I'm uber-single these days, my Friday nights are usually spent perched in a chair in front of ye ole big screen, alone, with a bowl of popcorn and a Blockbuster rental. Well tonight was no different. Well, actually, it was. I'm known for my love of just about anything Brazilian. I love Samba and Astrud Gilberto. I listen to real Brazilian samba in Portugese and I don't have the slightest clue what the hell they are singing about, but the spirit touches my soul at its very depths. Tonight, I took a chance on a Brazilian DVD titled, O Homem Que Copiava (The Man Who Copied), and did I strike gold!

It was a little slow starting out-I don't know how much excitement you can generate around a 20 year old photocopy machine operator, but as the movie progressed, they managed to get a beautiful love story out of it all. Without getting all Two Thumbs Up on you, I would give the movie the all 20 digit's up! The characters are well developed and vibrant in their own way. The main character, Andre, is, as I mentioned before, a photocopy machine operator. I don't think I have to illustrate for anyone how mundane an existence that must be. We've all, at one time or another, made a photo copy of a document. And we all know it's as about as exciting as folding clothes. Well, poor Andre has to eek out a living doing just that. The only excitement to his job comes in the form of Marinês, his hot Brazilian co worker who professes at one point in the movie that she doesn't wear panties. Now I don't know if this was by choice, or if it's because of financial constraints-either way, Marinês is fucking hot and the thought of her not wearing panties caused quite a stir in my nether-regions.

Anyway, Andre too lusts after Marinês, but his heart lies with Silvia, the young girl he spies on with binoculars (that incidentally took him one year to save for), from his apartment across the street from hers. Both love birds live with a parent; Andre, with his mother, whom you don't get a good glimpse of 'til the end of the movie, and Silvia with her father, a perverted excuse of a man who steals money from her purse and peaks through the key hole at her while she showers.

Lastly, there is Cardoso, the self-proclaimed antique dealer and wanna-be love interest of Marinês. When we are introduced to Cardoso (he caries around a cell phone that I don't think works), he seems to be the stereotypical big fish in a little pond, but we later discover his career in antiques is about as legitimate as Fred Sanford's.

I won't go into a complete review of the movie, but suffice it to say that there are twists and turns that will have your mouth gaping and your hands itching to applaud. American critics didn't receive it with open arms, and I might have a few theories explaining why. #1-if you don't come from a poor country, it's difficult to understand the motivation of said residents. #2-the lead character is as dark as I am-his love interest isn't-'nuff said. White America isn't too comfortable with humans possessing differing skin tones hooking up and I'm sure this rubbed a few white men the wrong way.

Nevertheless, I found the rental quite entertaining and would rank it amongst my top 40 all time favorites. The only problem with a rave review is that it sets ultra-high expectations and rarely can a movie, or any attraction, live up to the expected excitement level that can be created in one's imagination. But I recommend you all check out the movie, it's a glimpse into where most of us live, whether we care to admit it or not.

If you don't like it, I'll gladly refund the money I spent on the rental (read that extremely careful-it ain't legalese, but it's close).

TPOKW?

War Chest

I was on my way home for lunch today and I popped in an old Kanye West cd to entertain me all of the 3 minutes it takes me to get home from work. As I listened to Kanye and his hip-hop-styled bravado, I couldn't help but think when he would be next. For some odd reason, America loves a rising star just as much as she loves a falling one and it will only be a matter of time before Mr. West is no longer on the giving end of the media's attention and is transferred to the receiving end. Practically every media darling, at some point, ends up a media disaster. Poor Britney Spears, if she sneezes more than twice it makes the news.

Black celebrities have been on the receiving end a lot lately. From Michael Vick to T.I.;Michael Jackson to Oprah Winfrey, the attacks seem endless. My hope is, all of these artist and celebrities have built up a war chest to help them through tough times. There's a line in one of Kanye's old songs where he talks about going to Jacob the Jeweler as soon as he got his first advance because he wanted to shine. I can understand wanting to spoil yourself when you get a little money-hell, even I like to reward myself when I get paid, but my hope is that the allure of the fancy cars, houses, and jewelry does not trump the need to protect yourself when the invaders hit your beach front. And make no mistake, they're coming. The object of the game should not be just to get rich but to remain rich. And to do so, one must have a war chest-funds socked away to get you through a full frontal assault, regardless of where it comes from. And I have to reiterate, it will come. Dionne Warwick, Wesley Snipes, Mike Tyson, Sean Combs, all have had their turn in the hot seat. All of them have racked up attorney fees that dwarf what most of us earn in a lifetime.

This country loves a good scandal-because secretly I think most of its citizens are envious of the success of others. It's the crab in the bucket mentality. We love to hear the worst there is to know about the private lives of celebrities. The raunchier, the better. There's no question that some of these idiots deserve the negative attention, but most are just caught up in tabloid journalism that could not exist if Britney Spears wasn't improperly raised as a child-or if Mike Tyson would take his medication regularly. These rags are like a monster with an insatiable appetite who won't leave Tokyo alone. And our need to see someone tumble from an imaginary pedestal fuels the fire.

Suffice it to say that the only solution is that consumers stem their desire for such nonsense, but they don't call them consumers for nothing. They aren't thinkers, they aren't producers or doers, they're consumers-mindless gluttons who will devour anything placed before them-and we've all been there at one point in time (most of us are still there). But this post was not supposed to be an indictment on the media, it was supposed to be about the necessity to protect yourself when you are on the receiving end of a negative media campaign that may surround a law suit or criminal charges. Anyone around a celebrity who is worth anything would strongly advise that individual of the need to build a handsome war chest so that when the animals attack, like the spinning records of a top-shelf DJ, you life doesn't skip a beat.


TPOKW?

The Man I Am

Probably one of the most elusive definitions known in modern times is the definition of man. Sure, we can define him anatomically, but what is the true essence of today's modern man? That question might be a difficult one to answer in a broad sense-and even if someone were able to successfully answer it, I'm not all together sure they would be able to describe me to my satisfaction so I will attempt to describe man as he pertains to me. Afterwards, if anyone would like to add or subtract to my definition as it pertains to them, this is an open forum-feel free to do so.

As a man, I believe and subscribe to the mantra first do no harm. I believe the definition lies within the statement, but I'll elaborate for the purpose of clarity. I believe that I have no right to harm those who have not tried to harm me. I have no right to disturb, alter, or negatively influence in anyway, the innocent. That includes members of the human family and animals. It encompasses organizations and entities that I am a member of, or affiliated with, in any way shape or fashion. Churches (which I wouldn't be caught dead in-wait, I might want to rethink that), places of employment, political institutions, all fall into this category. However, if at any time in the span of history, you've attempted to harm me in anyway, I reserve the right to destroy you, your associates, or any one linked to you. That is not to say that I will exercise that right, but once you've harmed or attempted to harm me, you've opened a door that you cannot close. My demise will not close that door-my offspring will carry my sentiment to their graves.

As a man, I believe that love is the ultimate in civility and humanity. The love that I have for my child is no different than the love I have for my mate. The boundaries of our interactions may differ, but the love is the same. It is the same love that I have for all of humanity and I choose to express it freely. Universal love is what we all should strive to achieve. But love also has a dark side. I love humanity so much that I would take the life of my own child should that child be a threat to humanity. I have no right to bring forth a seed and sacrifice all of humanity to spare one spoiled seed. It's is my duty to the world to protect it from threats-no matter where they emanate from. Harsh? Perhaps. Necessary? Above all things, yes.

The greatest joy I as a man can ever know is the joy of knowing I've pleased my woman. And if that pleasure is reciprocal, a cycle begins that only death can put an end to. As a man, the love of a good woman is above all things. Her protection and safety I take serious and will never abandon my responsibility-even if it costs me my life.

As a man, I am the protector of my family and my community, for they support me and comfort me in ways no other can. Drugs, alcohol, lust, nor avarice can separate me from that which has the ability to fulfill me completely.

Of course there is plenty more, and I won't attempt to bore you with the details. Sadly, we live in a world where the values I've mentioned have been completely lost amongst the masses. But imagine what a beautiful world this would be if only we could find our way back to these beliefs.

TPOKW

Alone

My middle daughter, who is now at the beautiful age of 16, has always shown concern for my pension for ending up alone. As far back as I can remember, whenever I announced that I was no longer with one of my temporary mates, she expressed fear because I would be alone. I would always smile to myself, not fully understanding what there was to be afraid of. Well, once again, I find myself alone. Alone is a lonely word, and it conjures up images in our mind of despair and sadness, but I find being alone a solemn undertaking. How else can one be completely alone with your inner-most thoughts? I don't fear being alone. I can't say that I like it much, but being alone makes you appreciate people and I think that we could all benefit from the rediscovery of the beauty of one another.

I remember when I first moved into this apartment-I found myself quite lonely. I was used to the sounds of children playing; a television or radio blaring loudly off in the distance; a casual telephone conversation that didn't involve me, but became the part of an auditory fabric that I'd normalized and grown accustomed to. But here, there was only silence. No television, (I found the sound annoying in this vacuum), no children playing, no other voice but my own, and I was so afraid to hear what I might say to myself-so there was only silence. Sometimes silence can be deafening and your desire to silence the silence becomes great. But we all know that the mere notion of silencing silence borders on insanity, so we remain quiet and find ways to cope. I found ways. They weren't always the same-they varied. Sometimes I would just sit in a chair, staring out the window, and allow the silence to consume me. I struggled against my urge to make it go away. I wanted to become acquainted with it in a friendly manner. But silence is neutral and it does not care whether you appreciate it or not-silence just is. In fact, silence wouldn't know how to interpret your appreciation or your disdain-it simply does not know to care. So what does my opinion matter? It doesn't. The only thing one can do is become one with silence-a synergy that strips you of your desire to break it's hold on all things audible. You simply surrender and then it becomes the auditory fabric that you become accustomed to.

What I miss most being alone, is the warmth and comfort of the human touch. It's not that I couldn't force myself into physical contact with others, it's just that I want to it to emanate from a natural place and not from a place of desperation. I want to be at one with my environmental silence and not fight it by forming unnatural alliances with those whom I might detest, but fear being away from. The paralysis of my analytical mind has always afflicted me. Still, I sometimes long for my bed not to be empty; for that casual touch at those most unpredictable moments in the middle of night that reassures me that I am alive, and loved, and capable of loving. The absence of human touch can sometimes be torture and the longing for relief constant. Still, I somehow manage to find comfort in it all. Or perhaps that is what I tell myself so that the bleakness of my situation isn't so daunting. Who knows. We do whatever it takes to survive.

One thing that I know for certain is I've developed a special appreciation for the human connection. Being alone heightens my senses and makes the slightest connection feel so alive and real. Holding someones hand sets off waves of emotions that remind me of my teenage years. I've become so hypersensitive to the human connection that the mere thought of sexual contact becomes completely overwhelming, and the journey back to that level of connection becomes a slow and methodical process. Why hurry? The journey alone is so exhilarating. There's truly something to be said about depriving one's self from the complete and utter satiation of your every desire. Spending too much time in that realm can quickly become mundane and the only true remedy is deprivation. But so many of us believe the answer lies within satiating ones appetite even more, which explains why so many of us suffer from obesity or die from overdosing on drugs.

I must admit I have a profound fear of being controlled by those desires and the need to satiate them continually. I fear losing myself in the midst of addiction never being able to find my way back to the person I once was. It's not so much a fear of change, but a fear of what I may change in to. I think that was why, for many year, I could not smoke marijuana. The idea of wanting to be in an altered state of consciousness all the time was frightening. Once I convinced myself that infrequent trips to that altered place wasn't so bad, indulging from time to time became an accepted practice for me. Although I don't do it often as I once did, I allow myself the freedom to do so.

Alone and lonely seem like such close companions, but I believe I've found a way to be one and not be totally consumed by the other. Alone describes my physical state-lonely would describe my emotional. Could one exist without the other? Quite possibly. There are those, like myself, who can be alone and not experience loneliness just as there are those who can be amongst a crowd of people and be lonely. In fact, I've found it quite easy to be amongst a crowd or group of people and feel lonelier than I've ever felt in my life.

I know that human contact is necessary and that I thrive in every way imagineable when I know that the comfort of another is there for me. But I also know the feeling of powerlessness that consumes you when you crave that comfort and are denied it. Sometimes that's worse than having never experienced it at all. I don't worry so much that I'll never feel or experience it again. I think I worry that one day it won't matter to me whether it's there or not, and I will find comfort only in my isolation. That, to me, would be a fate far worse than the dismal feelings of loneliness that keeps me company from time to time, letting me know that, although temporary, the slightest touch from a comforting hand can erase months of loneliness in the blink of an eye. I guess hope springs eternal.

TPOKW

So I was talking to a friend...

The other night I went out with a friend whom I have a special interest in. We were at a bar having drinks and during the conversation she made a statement that harkened me back to an old relationship that I had that was not a pleasant one. During our conversation, my friend said, "A guy is a guy is a guy" and to this moment I am still seething over that statement. A while ago I dated a woman who used to like to hit me...hard, in what she claimed was a playful manner. Whenever I commented on the inflicted pain, she would say, That didn't hurt, guys don't hurt like women." Needless to say, that mode of thinking transcended the physical. She thought that being unfaithful wouldn't hurt either.

I guess I have a problem with people who assume that you aren't as human as they are. And when this mentality emanates from someone I'm interested in, it gives me great pause. It's as if she was saying to me, You see, women are diverse, with character and depth, and men are just dolphins minus the dorsal fin." Sometimes you get a glimpse into someones mind without them actually knowing that they are so exposed and one should take heed. The statement was made so emphatically, and then dismissed so casually, I have to catalogue it in the same genre as racist statements. In fact it was quite sexist of her to say such a thing.

Perhaps I'm being sensitive....so fucking what. As well I should be-the people that adhere to early warning systems are never the ones being rescued during floods, tornadoes, or hurricanes. And this, my friends, was an early warning. I can only imagine what may come next. It's as though guys are meant to be toyed with. I have to admit that I am extremely angry over the statement. And when I brought it up again, she said, "Oh, that was so yesterday." Where do these fucking humans come from? You all know that I've had an axe to grind with black women in the past, but I don't think I've ever dealt with one and didn't take into consideration her individuality. In fact, after having so many problems with women, I still gave every one I met thereafter the benefit of the doubt. I didn't lump them into this category whereby they all were lying, deceitful, ingrates-I reserved those titles for those who truly earned them.

I think I was wrong about this person. In the past I might have just dismissed the statement and said, "Oh, that's just her opinion." And how foolish I would have been. Who elses opinion will she consider when she decides that I'm not as human as she, therefore I am open to all sorts of violations and abuse? Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, I'm merely attempting to protect myself. I never thought my own wife would steal $5400 from me either. But somewhere in the recesses of her mind she gave herself permission to do that to me. Was it because I was male and less than human? Was it because I'm black and she wasn't? Or was it because only a fool would trust another person with access to their funds-wife or not? I have no idea what the reason was, but one thing I do know is I'm out of $5400.

Do I sound like a crying little girl? I hope so because I want you to consider the alternative-your ass in a fucking burkha. Either men complain about it, and some women (guilty parties only) see the error of their ways and decide that they have been insensitive to the needs of men, and have relegated them to a less than human status-or we agree to resolve our difference with tests of strength and see what the outcome will be. Make no mistake-I was born an alpha-male and will die one. Make no mistake-I understand where my strength lies and have no problem exercising it. It always reminds me of a statement someone I once loved dearly made to me. We were arguing over her transgressions in our failed relationship and after I made point after point where she'd failed us miserably, she summed it all up by saying, "Well if you knew I was going to do all of that, why did you let me." I beg you all, please, reread that last sentence, like about 10 times. Really! What I got out of the statement, immediately and without hesitation was, I'll give myself permission to do what ever I choose, but I will not take responsibility for my actions-that's the man's job. Why did you let me? Did she just ask me to put her ass in a burkha?

I don't know if I'll ever let that a guy is a guy is a guy statement die-it will forever be etched in my frontal lobe. And I think that I'll never be able to look at this person without knowing that she sees me as a cardboard cutout. What's so sad about it all is that the average male on the face of the earth will risk life and limb to protect his woman and his family. In fact, whenever we are with women, we are at risk of losing our lives. If ever a burglar breaks into our home, we are expected by all parties involved to face that danger in order to protect our loved ones. Let a man be the only survivor in an in-home invasion and watch how not only society vilifies him, but how he will probably torment himself to the point of suicide. Failure means the acceptance of death-and most real men know this and will readily face that danger, without hesitation.

What's left when the ones we desire to honor, serve, and protect, turn their backs on us? The decline of civilization.

TPOKW?

The Prince is Depressed

Every now and then I go through bouts of depression. Nothing serious, just enough to make me close the blinds and not want to go outside. I'm not sure what triggers it, but perhaps this time it's because my lap top crashed AGAIN! This is the 4th time in like a year and 3 months. I've replaced 4 hard drives and it is beginning to really annoy me. Fortunately they are under warranty, but I hate opening that lap top case, all the parts are so delicate and there's a level of stress that accompanies the activity that I don't particularly care for.

Anyway, I didn't go outside all day today. I closed the blinds and just relaxed the best I could. I wish it rained today, believe it or not it helps me when I get depressed. Don't get me wrong, I'm usually at my center 95% of the time. But I was on a natural high yesterday and I usually crash pretty hard when I allow myself to experience that level of joy. That's one of the reasons I like to remain centered.

The last time I had a serious bout of depression was in 1995. It lasted about 2 weeks and I couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with me. I would be at work and all of a sudden I would have to rush to the restroom so no one would see me crying like a baby. It ranked amongst the worse 2 weeks of my life. It was weird, I would cry all the way to work and all the way home. And just like a man, I REFUSED to seek help. Eventually it passed. This time isn't nearly that serious. I just think the lap top situation brought me down.

I wrote a new song, but I don't feel like it's any good. I was really amped about it at first, but now I'm not really feeling it. I laid the vocal track today and when I started doing the backing vocals I lost all interest. I couldn't find the harmonies and the depression thing made me give up and go lay down and take a nap. I didn't sleep too well but at least I felt rested when I awoke.

My focus lately has been to improve my guitar skills and I'm beginning to break new ground. It's always nice when the time invested yields positive results. I'm probably a little down because I haven't exercised in weeks. I haven't ran in about a week-just been to damned busy. I think I need a break. I turned my phone off today. I needed complete isolation until I can get my head back to where it needs to be. I didn't want anyone affecting my mood. I know that I'm carrying way too much on my shoulders right now but it's nice when I complete all task effectively. I really enjoy the rest afterwards.

I've decided to join 24 hour fitness again. There's one right up the street from me and I can run to it, exercise, and then finish my run on my way home. I used to do that when I lived in my old place. I know I need to invest more time in my exercise regiment. And as soon as December arrives, I'm clearing my schedule completely. I don't want to have any new projects following me into the New Year. I want a clean slate.

I really want to move outside of the U.S. for a while. I don't know where, but I need a break from this place. I need to go back to Spain or somewhere no one knows me. When I was there (a long time ago), I could go out and be amongst the people and still feel that much needed isolation. It was as though I wasn't even there. People would greet me, but I could lose myself in public. Something I have a difficult time doing here in the good ole' US of A. Being black, you stick out like a sore thumb here and you're always aware of the fact that you're black. In Spain those pressures just didn't exist. I'm not saying there wasn't racism, but there was more hatred for Caucasian Americans in Spain than there was for black ones. In fact, I was accepted amongst the Spaniards I chose to deal with because I knew enough of the language to communicate. I loved the vibe. I hated the 4 distinct seasons-they have real winters there. And when I arrived with my California gear in November, I was in for a shocker. I froze my ass off until I was able to transition my wardrobe to something more appropriate for the climate.

As you can probably tell, I'm just rambling about because I don't have much I want to put into my blog. I have plenty to talk about, but Lulu's get's the dirt now so I don't have to put it on my blog-thanks Lulu, bill my insurance for the psychiatric sessions. I can't say that they are working but it does feel good to get it off my chest. It's always nice to get the opinion of an objective female from the other side of the globe. She tells it like it is!

It's weird, all of a sudden I've gotten really private as of late. I don't know what it is. One minute I'm writing about EVERYTHING, the next I don't want to write anything about my personal life. I think it's because my emotions are being pulled apart since I met a new female. I don't want to talk about it. I've said too much already. I know that I'm still dealing the residual nonsense from my marriage and I haven't quite faced it all head on. I think I've been avoiding dealing with it. I'm hoping that it will take care of itself, but I know better than that. I don't even think often about my soon-to-be ex wife. And I know that I'm trying to bury the whole thing without dealing with it. You don't live with someone 6 years and then have no emotional anything for that person once their gone. I don't know where and I don't know when, but eventually I'm going to come face to face with it all. I'm too emotionally aware for this not to have affected me in some way or the other. I'm just skillfully suppressing it now. Or, maybe it's just that the marriage had been over for a minimum of 3 years before we actually separated and maybe I have dealt with it in my own way. I don't know, I'm just living day to day and not really focusing on it. I have too many other things I need to deal with.

She called the other night to tell me that she was in school. I was really happy to hear that. I wish her the best. I have absolutely no ill feelings toward her-in fact I still have love for her. Not the type of love that could sustain another waking moment with her, but the type that you'd have for someone you were once really close to but have moved on. I simply can't hold anything against her, no matter how much I would like to try. My mother on the other hand, can and does hold something against her. Harming someone's child has that affect on people. There are girls that my son dated that I'd like to see burned at the stake, but I know that he's forgiven them. Once you harm someone's children, you're permanently cast in the shadow of negativity.

Well I think I will try to get some sleep. Hopefully I'll feel better in the morning. It might be all of this sunshine that's depressing me. I need it to rain. I love the rain, it depresses me so beautifully. It puts me in that melancholy mood that makes the slightest positive thought seem so beautiful. Rain reminds me of being purified. It grants me permission to release all negativity. I can sit back and watch it pass as I just let it all go. I also like the way the earth smells after a good rain. It feels like it's morning all day long (morning dew also gives the earth that smell as well-even though it isn't as strong). I guess that's why I like the morning.

The Prince is officially of the air.

TPOKW?

She Love Me

I believe an indicator of growth can be seen when someone can admit they made a mistake-and boy did I make one with my last post. But before I go into detail, I need to make an assertion here:

I will never again speak ill of black women.

I learned something last night about both myself and most black women in this country. First of all, I have some prejudices that I need to deal with. Not to mention the fact that a lot of black women have dealt with men whose point of view and intentions differ from mine. Therefore how can expect them to see me differently when they interface with me? I was wrong about Cat-oh so wrong. I'm not saying that she loves me-no more than I meant in the last blog entry that she hated me. What I'm saying is that the negative facade that I met the other day had nothing to do with me and had everything to do with her state of mind at the time.

We were all exhausted after last weekend and a lot of that affected both my opinion of her message to me and her mood in general. Even I blew up at my drummer on the way back from Vegas and everyone agrees it has a lot to do with the sheer exhaustion we were all experiencing. So why didn't I factor that into Cat and my conversation? Why did I just fall back on my predetermined judgments about black women? Perhaps it's because I'm human, I don't know. But what I do know is I owe both Cat and black women an apology. I've neglected to factor in their experience in America-it's completely different than a black male's. Yes we all experience racism. But every black woman who gets involved with a black man in this country has to face the fear that he may be taken away from her. Yes other women may experience this fear as well, but black men or more inclined to die earlier than all other men. We have a higher incarceration rate and when a black woman gets involved with one of us, the fear that we'll be murdered, or incarcerated, or just simply abandon them looms large in their brains-I'm certain. I think the attitude might be fear of getting too close.

Cat and I talked extensively last night (well into the early morning hours) and I learned a great deal about her personal experiences, black women's experiences in general, and my own bull-headed self. She just talked and I listened-and I saw errors in my judgment. I can't for the life of me figure out why I expected perfection. I'm not saying Cat and I made a love connection-I'm saying that it was a learning experience for me and certainly an opportunity for growth on my part.

I have to honestly say that I have been wrapped up too much in my own experiences. I also have to take into consideration that I haven't completely dealt with the demise of my marriage. I am extremely sensitive now to all changes in my personal environment-and I'm gun shy. I know the pain involved in break-ups and I don't want to start a casual relationship, have it morp into something more meaningful, and then have it dissipate. My life has been filled with these relationships and I'm exhausted of them. I've certainly had my fun, but what has it cost me? Plenty, I believe.

I just hope that the black women who I've spoken so ill of will find it within their hearts to forgive my ignorance. There are root explanations for all irrational behavior. We afford mental patients latitude because of their past experiences, why couldn't I see that the black woman's experience in America has been one that could push one to the brink of madness. Along with black men, they are the most vilified in this society. So much so, Don Imus thought nothing to refer to some of the most promising of our people as nappy-headed ho's. As black men and protectors of our women, we should have found a way to make it where Don Imus never spoke publicly again. Al Sharpton shouldn't have been the only black male public figure to speak out. We should have heard it from Bill Cosby, Eddie Murphy, Barak Obama, and whomever else has a public voice. Hell, even I refrained from commenting in my blog. Why didn't we come to the defense of our women en masse? I am certain black women around the nation would have had a great deal more respect for us had we done so.

Suffice it to say that everyday is a day to learn something new, and I've learned that, although black women may act irrational at times, there is definitely a reasoning behind it. Because there is a reason doesn't make it right, but instead of watching someone in a glass cage go nuts and complaining about their behavior, one should take into consideration the condition an individual is made to live in before judging or prejudging them. It is so easy to say Pull yourself up by your bootstraps when you've been privileged with the boots, the straps, and the knowledge necessary to pull yourself up. Many black women, in spite of the odds, have done quite well for themselves-my mother and sisters being amongst them. But those are the exceptions to the rule. It's quite difficult to do what seems so simple when you've been hamstrung much earlier than one could conceive that they were being hamstrung. It always amazes me when pundits, aware of the deleterious effects of negative classic conditioning, make these caustic and careless statements; as though reversing the negative damages society and community can have on an individual is as simple as snapping your fingers-this thing is much deeper than that. I too have been guilty of such nonsense, but I vow to exhibit better judgment in the future.

Stay strong and hang in there my black women, we'll put this thing back together, I promise!

TPOKW

She Hate Me

This past weekend the band rented a couple of vans and headed out for a gig in Las Vegas Nevada. Steve, the bass player, and I had only a few hours of sleep between the two of us, but the excitement of the gig was enough to sustain us. We were hired to back an artist who goes by the name LaFelle. Andre' Lafelle Roberson is an extremely talented young man who arrived at his very first rehearsal with us with two beautiful black women-his back-up dancers. But I'll get to them in a minute. The gig, as I mentioned, was in Las Vegas at a mega mansion in the new development of Red Rock. The three-story house, situated in a gated community within a gated community, was equipped with a beautiful infinity pool that appeared to trail off into the desert and a home theater that rivaled anything I've seen.



The band arrived at the venue and we all marveled at the beauty of this place. We were further taken aback by the stage. It was situated in the center of the infinity pool. When we arrived, the models were rehearsing and we knew right away that it would be an evening to remember.

Back to the back up dancers. The night of the first rehearsal, I took it upon myself to flirt with one of them. She was the darker complected of the two and very attractive to me. My flirtations seemed to be working so I figured I would further pursue the matter in Vegas. I greeted the two dancers at the 2nd rehearsal, and even got some close-up time with the young lady I was attracted to (let's call her Cat (no, it's not her real name-but close)). I grabbed Cat's hand and pulled her close to me and she sat on my lap as we discussed various topics with the rest of the band. In my book, I would consider this progress. Eventually she dismissed herself and we all went back to chatting and waiting for the models to finish their endless rehearsal.



Later on in the day I went to speak with Cat, but she, all of sudden, developed an attitude. I had no idea where it came from. I decided that putting distance between the two of us wouldn't be the worst of ideas-so I avoided her for the rest of the day.

After we got the opportunity to set up, warm up, and rehearse, we all packed into the mini-van and headed back to the spot where we had holed up for the day to change and get back for the performance. When we arrived, it was like a scene out of Hollywood. There were bright lights-the searchlight type that let people know from miles around that an event is taking place. There was a red carpet, complete with all the models of the fashion show waiting to greet all who arrived. This felt star-studded. Lafelle would be the opening act, the fashion show would follow, and then Grammy Award winning artist John B would take the stage and close out the night.

I was nervous earlier because we had only rehearsed with Lafelle once-and all of his music was original. I was extremely concerned. But once we were able to warm-up, it became obvious to me that Wisdom Soul was truly a professional band that could meet and exceed the expectations of any artist or audience. We took the stage and Lafelle did his thing. The dancers were beautiful and the crowd really enjoyed the show.

Afterwards, I felt relieved that the show went off as well as it did. But I was a little exhausted-I needed a stiff drink. I ordered a scotch straight-up, relaxed and took in the scene. The rest of the band was on cloud-9! They were really enjoying themselves, and I enjoyed watching them. As usual, I find it difficult to really let myself go when I know that there is work to be done. I surveyed my surroundings trying to hone in on another angle to make this kind of money. I've made money in my day, but certainly not anything close to the type of money that puts you in the company of the people I was in that evening. My mind searched desperately for answers, angles, solutions, but I think I was too exhausted to be effective. My mind wandered back and forth from solutions to Cat. I saw her and the other dancer sitting together at a table but chose not to approach-I was still a little bitter from earlier that day.

We gathered together, took photos, discussed different ideas and just enjoyed the evening. After my second drink, the bitterness I felt toward Cat began to wane and I made my way over to her as she talked with our drummer. I sat behind her as she continued her conversation. I began rubbing her leg to get her attention, and then focused on giving her a back rub. Slowly she began to respond. Here is where things began to get hazy. Cat and I went out to dance as Jon B performed. The next thing I remember is leading her down to the home theater in the basement. I don't remember much after that. At some point she gave me her phone number, that much I remember. After 2 scotches straight and only 3 hours of sleep in the past 48 hours, I think I'd pushed myself beyond my limit. I remember sitting in their limo talking to her, but don't remember what I said-this has been happening a lot to me lately when I drink and I can't explain why I'm losing my memory when I drink-perhaps alcohol-induced alzheimers.

Anyway, to make an otherwise long story short, the next day I sent Cat a text telling her how much enjoyed spending time with her the previous evening. Her response wasn't exactly what I expected. She was a bit cold. After further investigation, apparently I said something that she didn't agree with that evening. I have no idea what it was that I said-I do know I have a tendency to talk sh*t when I drink, but never to women. It's usually testosterone-ladened banter reserved for my guy friends.

Eventually there was brief conversation between Cat and I-extremely brief. It went like this:

Me- So refresh my memory. What exactly did I say?

Cat- No see, I believe that if it was important enough for you to say, it would be important enough for you to remember, therefore I don't believe I should refreshen (sic) your memory at all. I'm not going to do that.

Me- You believe-

Cat- Hold on, who's this walking up to my house. Can you hold?

Me -Sure.

(Play complete Jeopardy theme music here.....three times. Finally:

Cat- Can I call you right back?

Me- Sure.

And that was the last I heard from her-it's been well over 12 hours. During that 12 hours, I've done some thinking. I don't really know Cat, and she really doesn't know me. So why did she treat me as though she did? The whole "I don't believe" nonsense doesn't sound like someone who's a team player. It seems like she has an idea of who the f*ck I am before knowing who the f*ck I am. As I said before, I don't know her, therefore I'm not going to approach her as though I do. Her approach to me was as though someone had done something to her in her past, and I'm about to pay for it-no, not this week! Now this will be the same woman, 10 years from now talking about how their are no good men out there and that black men don't talk to her-they just like white women. You could probably fill a stadium with the black women I've personally dealt with that, for one reason or another, discounted me. Am I a good man? You betcha! (I like that corny phrase. You can't get more Howdy Doody than that).

Before you all go off on a tangent about my recent arrest and my pension for the occasional violent scuffle, let me detail to you my manly accomplishments:

*I've been gainfully employed since the age of 12.
*All of my children know me intimately and we keep in contact with one another. I've been supportive financially and otherwise.
*All of the children of the women I've dated have been treated as though they were my own children.
*I've always taken care of home first-regardless of who my female counter-part is.
*I'm respectful and believe in teamwork and hardwork as well as hard play.
*I'm an attentive lover, mate and friend.
*I'm sensitive to the needs of those around me and often put them before my own.
*My happiness is derived from seeing members of my clan happy.
*My woman's needs come first. My theory is if she's happy, so am I.
*My goal is to leave not only a positive legacy for my offspring, but also head start financing to give them a head start in life.

Keeping all that in mind, there are things a woman should know about me:

*Although I have a sense of humor, I'm an extremely serious person and will take corrective action if need be (interpret that however you choose).
*I believe in self-discipline. Not only for myself but for my partner and the offspring we have been charged with caring for.
*I believe in work before play. Take care of business so that the business can take care of you.
*I believe that the male is the head of household and responsible for the success and failure of the home. I believe that there should be only one captain of the ship. If the pilot of a plane is flying at 30,000 feet, how many passengers does he need interfering with what he's doing? My answer would be zero. Just sit down, shut up, and ride. Anything other than that would be a distraction. Furthermore, if someone can relinquish control of their life to a complete stranger who takes them up to 30,000 feet at speeds exceeding 200 miles an hour, surely they should be able to trust me to manage our family. Think about it. We know absolutely nothing about the pilot, nor what he has done in the past 24-48 hours. He could have just left a mad Rave where he indulged in excessive drinking and popped ecstacy all night. How do we know? Yet we buy our tickets and sit our butts down and allow this person to put us in one of the most dangerous and precarious situations we can find ourselves in. Most of us don't even see the pilot. There could be a donkey in the cockpit for all we know. If you can place your life in the hands of a complete stranger, at least you should be able to trust me to make decisions about the financial status of our household.

I've posted here before about black women and I have absolutely nothing against them-I love them dearly. But granting yourself permission to be venemous in your speech to me doesn't set well with me. Especially if you don't know me. I don't want to go through a lifetime of circus tricks to get you to see that I'm a decent human who only wants a family, a peaceful domicile, (not with Cat-just in general) and some pure and unadulterated sex from time to time. The last experience with Cat just turns my stomach. Sharazad Ali, author of A Blackman's Guide to Understanding a Blackwoman said that every now and again she might need a pop in the mouth to get her straight. I don't advocate violence against anyone-man, woman, or child. But what is the answer here? How is that we are going to get black women to understand that we aren't their enemy?

Fortunately wisdom has prevailed and I have absolutely nothing for this Cat person. Was it a missed opportunity for her? I don't think so. With her attitude she would have lasted no longer than that brief conversation I detailed earlier. But as a black man, I'm crying out to you black woman-SEEK HELP!!! You can't continue to vilify us and still expect us to want to build lives with you. Cat started off telling me what she wasn't going to do. Now I have to admit, I might have said something foul in my stupor, but I doubt it. I usually become extremely philosophical with women when I've been drinking. It's the men that have to watch out for my verbose banter. I do recall her telling me, "Don't fall in love." To which I distinctely remember responding, "That may be a warning you want to adhere to yourself." I found it odd that she would say such a thing to me after seeing her only once before in my entire life. She obviously thinks more of herself than I do. I also recall her telling me that she was working on her master's. Sadly, she could become the Master of the Universe and she still wouldn't be in a position to lead me. I am an alpa-male and a natural born leader. And unless she's well versed in the arts, philosphy, and martial law (not to be confused with marital law), I don't think her master status will put her in a position to lead me. She can assist me with leadership, but never lead-not when she's so susceptible to her own whims and emotions.

Some women are just too easily led by the media today for me to follow one. Now if there is a woman out there, and I know that they exist, who is a realist like me, she won't have to wrestle with me for power, I'll cede it without a fight because I know that she sees the world in a similar way that I do. She knows that television isn't real, but utilized primarily to get you to buy shit. And when you see people on The O.C. living large, someone paid a dear price in order to live so lavishly. It won't fall from the sky. It's not going to be given to you-you'll have to earn it. And if you're not ready to roll up your sleeves and get to work, you'll scurry along the baseboards of life forever.

I know this seems like a long rant about nothing, but I just get so frustrated when I try to interface with a black woman and she comes with this you a nigga mentality. It's like I should be happy to be in her presence. Let me say this, getting a woman has never been a problem for me and I don't mind going off the reservation. I'd prefer not to, but no one wants to do battle with their life partner. I have too many other obstacles that I have to tackle. Why should I voluntarily invite another one in the very place they can do the most damage-in my home where I am most vulnerable?

Don't think that I'm basing my opinions on one incident with one black woman. This is a prevailing attitude that I've dealt with practically all life and it's so tired and old. Who's going to be the one to stand up and tell them to cut that shit out?

I don't know what to say anymore. I don't know how to deal with the attitude any longer. I am at my wits end. What do you make of a man who desires something so much but knows deep within that it is unattainable?

The Prince of Know Where? is vexed.