It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt

From GEICO to Optimus Prime

A LETTER TO
OPTIMUS PRIME
FROM HIS GEICO
AUTO INSURANCE
AGENT.

BY JOHN FRANK WEAVER

- - - -

Dear Mr. Prime,

We have received your accident-claim reports for the month of June—they total 27. I regret to inform you that GEICO will not be able to reimburse you for any of those repairs. I feel that I have sent the same letter to you once a month for the last six months, and I am now sending it again.

Since becoming a GEICO customer in January of this year, you have reported 131 accidents, requesting reimbursement for repairs necessitated by each one. You have claimed not to be responsible in any of them, usually listing the cause of the accident as either "Sneak attack by Decepticons" or "Unavoidable damage caused by protecting freedom for all sentient beings."

The only repairs for which you were reimbursed were the replacement of a cracked fender and a headlight, required after a Mr. I. Ron Hide backed his van into your truck; these cost $1,286.63. Our own investigation concluded that you were not at fault and that Mr. Hide had been drinking prior to the accident. Though police were unable to test his blood-alcohol level—Mr. Hide claimed that it would be impossible for police to examine his blood-alcohol content with a Breathalyzer, because he "doesn't breathe"—under Washington-state law, refusal to take a Breathalyzer test is equivalent to returning a result above the legal level.

But, I repeat, those were the only repairs for which you have been reimbursed, and it was a very minor accident in comparison to your other claims. I mention a few to illustrate the larger trend:

• $379,431.34 requested reimbursement for repairs to your truck cabin. You claimed the damage was caused by attacking fighter jets.

• $665,789.11 requested reimbursement for repairs to your trailer. You claimed the damage was caused by a giant mechanical scorpion, which I can only assume is some amusement-park ride, although I question the wisdom of bringing your mobile home so close to such dangerous equipment.

• $6,564,239.44 requested reimbursement for repairs to a truck part called the "Autobot Matrix of Leadership." You stated this occurred in "an ultimate confrontation between good and evil," with a Ms. Meg Atron and a Mr. U. Nicron causing the damage in question. Mr. Prime, I have checked every known car- and truck-part catalog published in the United States and have found nothing even resembling that part, never mind any part so expensive. Whatever disagreements you had with Ms. Atron and Mr. Nicron, I suggest that next time you either settle things peaceably or leave your Autobot Matrix of Leadership at home so it doesn't break. GEICO does not cover Autobot Matrix of Leaderships.

And the list goes on. Mr. Prime, I am going to remind you again: Your policy with GEICO only reimburses you for accidents that occur while you are engaged in the reasonable use of your truck and trailer. As I told you when you originally purchased the policy, GEICO does not offer Megatron coverage, Starscream coverage, Soundwave coverage, Decepticon coverage, or Energon-blast coverage. Those are just not the types of damages we would expect from reasonable use.

To sum up, GEICO has been unable to reimburse you for any repairs, but due to the high number of accidents you have been a party to this month, combined with the many accidents you have had in the preceding five months, your premium has increased to $235,567.50 per month. While that may seem like a lot, I remind you that it is a savings of $137 over Progressive and $98 over State Farm. Please have your check into our main office by the end of July.

Regards,

Simon Furman
GEICO Agent

Supreme Court Ruling on Parents Involved in Community Schools vrs. Seattle School District

On June 28^th, 2007 the Supreme Court of the

United States

voted to severely restrict the application of the landmark Brown versus Board of Education decision, which determined that maintaining segregated facilities based on race was unconstitutional.

Two cases, one in the 9^th District Court brought by Parent’s Involved in Community Schools against the School District of Seattle and the second case in the 6^th District Court  of parents versus the Jefferson County School District in Kentucky, that challenged the Brown versus Board of Education decision as a violation of the equal protection clause of the 14^th Amendment were denied by the 9^th and 6^th district courts respectively. The impetus for the cases, in both instances, were that both the Seattle School District, which had never maintained legally segregated school facilities, and the Jefferson County Schools which had been under a court order to desegregate but had been found to have fulfilled that order, maintained district wide policies aimed at creating and keeping racial diversity in its public school system.

The U.S. Supreme Court granted review to the cases, found that they had jurisdiction over the constitutional questions involved and reversed finding that in both circumstances Brown versus Board of Education did not apply and that the 14^th amendment had been violated.

The reasoning presented by Chief Justice Roberts, in a nutshell, was that Brown Versus Board of Education only applied to those school districts that had at some historical point implemented official desegregation policies and as a result found themselves under court order to desegregate after the Brown versus Board of Education decision. Since the Seattle Public Schools had never maintained policy driven segregated public schools and since the

Jefferson

County

school district had its court order rescinded the school districts could not then have policies that ensured racial diversity in their schools. The heavy burden of a compelling government interest was no longer met (and indeed could not be met), and thus any race based division of school choice was a violation of the 14^th Amendment.

My personal opinion is that this line of reasoning is politically motivated bull.

The ruling by the majority, in essence, says that the government can not justify creating systems to ensure racial diversity and equal access to quality education by underserved communities unless those communities have been officially discriminated against by the state at a particular historical moment. Any future districts found to be segregated or attempting to stave off segregation by recognizing racial distinctions will find themselves in contempt of this ruling. School districts, except those very few still under court orders to desegregate, will find themselves continuing a national trend of de facto school segregation.

As race and class are intimately connected, those schools that find themselves with large people of color populations will also find themselves in schools where poverty is concentrated and the social ills that come with extreme concentrated poverty. This ruling is a recipe for the isolation and failure of the education system for communities of color. Segregated schools create separate and unequal education opportunities. History has demonstrated this unequivocally. This new resegregation inevitability is not a doomsday scenario but the current reality many communities of color are already facing.

Justice Breyer, in a brilliant dissenting opinion, states:

As a result, different districts—some acting under court decree, some acting in order to avoid threatened lawsuits, some seeking to comply with federal administrative orders, some acting purely voluntarily, some acting after federal courts had dissolved earlier orders—adopted, modified, and experimented with hosts of different kinds of plans, including race-conscious plans, all with a similar objective: greater racial integration of public schools.

Overall these efforts brought about considerable racial integration. More recently, however, progress has stalled. Between 1968 and 1980, the number of black children attending a school where minority children constituted more than half of the school fell from 77% to 63% in the Nation (from 81% to 57% in the South) but then reversed direction by the year 2000, rising from 63% to 72% in the Nation (from 57% to 69% in the South). Similarly, between 1968 and 1980, the number of black children attending schools that were more than 90% minority fell from 64% to 33% in the Nation (from 78% to 23% in the South), but that too reversed direction, rising by the year 2000 from 33% to 37% in the Nation (from 23% to 31% in the South). As of 2002, almost 2.4 million students, or over 5% of all public school enrollment, attended schools with a white population of less than 1%. Of these, 2.3 million were black and Latino students, and only 72,000 were white. Today, more than one in six black children attend a school that is 99–100% minority. See Appendix A, infra. In light of the evident risk of a return to school systems that are in fact (though not in law) resegregated, many school districts have felt a need to maintain or to extend their integration efforts ( Justice Breyer, Dissenting Opinion,  Parents Involved in Community Schools vrs.

School District

of 

Seattle

No. 1).

This ruling is simply another example of Republican judicial activism geared at dismantling the Civil Rights Movement era achievements and the systemic revocation of racial justice gains of the last 75 years.

-

Brandon

Lacy

Campos

-Fellow, Democratizing Elections

It's Pride...I think I am going to vomit.

I can remember a time when I was super excited for Pride to roll around. I would put on my stylish rainbow bead choker...the hoochiest shorts I could find...and a t-shirt that I probably should have stopped wearing in the 2nd grade. Now, when I hear that Pride is nearing...I have to fight the impulse to order a closure of 35W and 94...to block out the Country Gays comin' to visit their City Cousins...and I want to firebomb every major corporation in the city...except since they all have booths at Pride...and basically have sponsored their way into ownership...that would probably mean that lots of innocent Country Gays in their "wife-beaters" and pride rings would also perish.

It's gotten to the point where I only go to the park during the time when I have been suckered into volunteering at one booth or another (I vow every year that this year...I'm not volunteering for SQUAT...and then...I end up at a booth...in 99,000 degree weather wishing I had a bebe gun and a liscense to maim).

Right now, I'm actually hiding out in my office, which is near the park. I'm sitting in my office on a Saturday morning. I'm participating on a panel at a queer people of color conference today, and I had the choice of either going to the park and seeing Target (which I passed on the way there as they own two blocks of downtown Minneapolis)...or coming up to the office to write a bitter jaded blog. Of course I opted for bitter.

It also doesn't help that I am running on E for real. I love my softball mates...they are my brothers (and sister). They are my community. But God Bless America...they like to go out most nights of the week. Now you are probably thinking...grown ass man keep your ass at home...but you just don't understand. So let me help, one: the Slammers and Associates are some of the funniest most brilliant people I know and two: these bizatches will guilt your ass to death if you don't show up at least 98% of the time. The only person that doesn't happen to is Ramon. And that's because Ramon is 6'7" tall and 225 pounds of attitude. None of us are bold enough to tell that man a damn thing.

I take that back...it wouldn't happen to Titi...as he is 97% molten lava and the love child of Pele...but he is one of the prime instigators of our multi-school night exscursions.

Really, I can't complain. We have a good time. And each morning I vow that tonight...I'm actually going to stay in and do the 24 loads of laundry I have to do. But then...my phone jingles...and it's off I go. There is a bunch of scheduled activites for Pride this afternoon...but since I loathe Pride...I'm going to take a nap instead.

It Sure Is Spring!

Damn spring has definitely hit the Upper Midwest. This weekend was buck wild.

Friday night, I hung out with my gal pals Julia H-Dawg and Lucky Louise. They both just got back from school out east, and it was super great to see them both.  Saturday day I hung out with Mantonio and we stopped into the Pedagogy and Theater of the Oppressed national conference, which was at the U of MN. Later that evening, Quiana, Matthias, and myself met up with New York and Titi at the Townhouse, and that is where the magic started.

When I walked in the door, there were a bunch of students I had the privilege of teaching this spring as a guest lecturer at Macalester College. It was awesome to walk in and have all these wonderfully smart students come up and hug me and appreciate my presence in their class. It was super cool. Then I spied this guy Graham, who was one of those students, and we got to talking. We started talking about kink, S and M, and bondage. He had just gotten back from International Mr. Leather (I was so jealous), and the more he and I talked (including a power and race analysis around multi-racial bondage play)...the more...ummm...excited I got. My friend Ben from Volleyball was also there, and next thing you know darling Graham is proposing a three-some ;-). I end up making out with Graham (and Ben). And Graham had the nerve to start in on my ear and neck. That almost got him taken right there in the club. But, we exchanged numbers and promised to talk this week.

In the mean time, I was chatting with this cutie Joe (who works at the college where I guest lectured) and a guy named Aaron (who graudated from said college--and who I hooked up with last year). It was the night of neverending play. I was in heaven. I have a date with Joe tomorrow night and one with Graham on Wednesday night.

My hormone levels right now are just stupidly high. I need to go and take a cold shower...and touch myself.

Power Bars are Nasty....

So, Tuesdays @ 3pm are staff meeting time right here at the CH. It was my turn to provide snacks for our staff meeting, so I skipped right on over to the drug store across the street and grabbed some gummi worms and generic raisinets (look...I had to borrow lunch money from my Mom today...don't judge me and my chocolate covered raisin candy in the clear plastic bag). Anyway...I've been working out like a life-long resident of Stillwater State Penitentiary, and I have been playing softball and volleyball every week. Hell, I played seven games of softball this weekend. So, a biyatch is gettin' in real good shape.

So, I'm at the store wondering how such a little piece of White Bear Lake Trailer Park Heaven could have made it onto Nicollet Mall in downtown Minneapolis, and I decide that I am going to get a powerbar instead of joining my co-workers in munching on our plasticized worm friends and the rabbit turd-look alikes. The powerbar said "chocolate" flavor on the package. I should have known that actually meant, "dookie dipped in sawdust and rolled in ground nuts flavor." This shit is terrible.

We all have to make sacrifices, and if I want to to be TitanMen porn hot by August...I am going to have to eat my chocolate flavored sawdust dookie. But I don't have to like it.

I Got the Itis!

According to the Gospel of Quiana as found in the Holy Book of the Boondocks, the Itis is that feeling of ultimate lethargy one feels immediately following a good meal. This afternoon, roughly eight of us wandered from our office to the MY Burger for lunch. I ate a double MY Burger with cheese and a slough of french fries...and now I have the Itis. I am so damn tired that I may actually be writing this during a REM cycle.

I want to write more witty and fun things...but this is about all I can handle.

Fucked Up Dreams...

For the last week or so, I have been having a string of just ridiculously fucked up dreams. The kind from which you wake up and are just disturbed and angry.

Last night, I had several dreams that freaked me out. The last won was the Golden Globe Winner for Most Disturbing Drama. I had a dream that I was at my Mom's house and she comes in the house in hooker gear, after being missing for a few days, with a pimp waiting for her out in a big black truck, and she is all fucked up on meth. (Talk about transposing ones own fears onto another figure, right?).

I tried to confront her about it, and she shrugged it off and went on ahead and got higher. She tried to stop me from calling for help by ripping out the house phone and hiding it, but luckily I had a cellie in my pocket. I ran out of the front door and there on the front porch were two packages wrapped in black wrapping paper tied up with red bows. The larger of the two packages was empty the other still wrapped.

The shady pimp just sat in his car looking menacing. Luckily a parade was going by the front of the house with a police escort. I ran up to the police and told them that my Mom was high and needed help. The white cop...of course he was white...looked at me...and said...he's one of them too...and started to call in on his speaker thing on the shoulder for "backup." I threatened to call his boss (whose name I couldn't remember), and then I ran.

Obviously my psyche is trying to tell me something. Quiana asked this morning what I thought the dream meant, and I was still too upset and close to it to think about it. Obviously my Mother is someone that I care about. Growing up, people would always tell me how much my Mother and I look alike (its the blonde hair). So, I think in this dream Mom was addict me. When I use, I am full of shame and guilt...I become hypersexual...and there is always some shady/shadowy sexual experiences that go down (hence the pimp in the black truck). I haven't a clue what the damn gift boxes are...and the cops are, I think, my fear of being castigated regardless of the fact that I am working hard to stay sober and make my life better, faster, stronger, more healthy. Of course the scared son in the dream is me right now...terrified of having that addict walk back through the door and knowing that it doesn't want to get better...it wants nicer lingerie and more drugs.

There was a whole lot there with that dream...but I'm glad I had it and that I'm able to make some sense of it. And, if I ever see a police escort at a parade, I am going to hike up my skirts and dash the other way.

I'm Going To Be on Judge Judy...

Or maybe that court show with the Latina--I wish it was going to be in the courtroom of local judge Isabel Gomez...I sat in on a juvenile trial in her courtroom when I was a high school student interning at the Hennepin County Public Defenders office...that woman scared me so badly...and I was just watching...that I didn't even think about joining the Mafia. But either way, I'm fixin' to take someone to small claims court, and its going to be REAL dramatic. All names in the following story have been changed.

I have a now former client, Macaroon, run  by a woman named...let's call her...Crazy. I worked with Crazy for a little over three months. The first month I worked with her was hell on wheels. We took a month off from working with one another...and at the end of February, she approached me about writing two more grants for her. As a good boy that has learned something about being accountable...I took my mistakes from our work in January and owned them. I put timetables and structures into place so that Crazy wouldn't be made extra Crazy by having to rush to get things out of the door. Great. She, of course, owned nothing about her style or methods of operations that actually led to some of the crazy making of January. I should have seen this as a sign.

So, in the beginning of March it was full steam ahead. I literally spoke with Crazy every day for more than a week. It got to the point where it was ridiculous and unprofessional on her part. I was getting phone calls at 7pm and 8pm at night and on weekends. If she called and I did not call her back immediately, I would get emails from her and follow up phone calls that were borderline harassing. I sat on the phone with her for almost an hour trying to explain to her why a foundation I'd called declined to read a proposal from her organization (pretty clear...her program did not fit the funding criteria for that foundation...it took me an hour to get her to wrap her head around that). I did research for the woman on funders that would possibly be a better fit for her, and we decided to move forward with the two grant proposals.

I was working away on the proposals when on March 11th...about ten days in, I get an email from her to stop working on the proposal. I said sure that's fine. I also sent her an email saying that if she wanted me to complete the proposals that she would have to let me know at  least two weeks before they were due AND that I would be billing her for the time I'd worked on March 22nd.

So, last week I billed her. Yesterday my roommate, who manages her fiscal relationship with her fiscal agent, tells me that when he called her to check on the invoice she basically said that I didn't produce any work and she didn't want to pay me. My darling roommate was up front with her saying...I've got the documentation of the work that he did, and I've got the documentation that shows that you asked him to stop working before he had a chance to complete any proposals. She said that she was going to go to her board and ask them about whether or not I should get paid.

God bless her. She's not from the U.S. and may not know how those of us from the ghetto get down...but Brandi don't play that.

So, last night, I sent her an email, copied her fiscal agent, and included all the documentation for the work that I'd done for her. I gave her until Friday to pay me, or Brandon is going down to the court house to file small claims papers. The last thing you want to do when you run a non-profit organization, especially a small non-profit organization that is trying to get a foothold in the funding community in the Twin Cities, is piss off a fundraiser with extensive community contacts. Vengeance is mine so sayeth the Lord...but in the ghetto we think that the Lord sometimes has enough to do and that now and again if we take some of the minor jobs off his shoulders...he doesn't mind.

Really, my conscience won't let me go as far as to call up funders and bitch this woman out. But, it sure doesn't limit me from taking her out at the knees in other ways. This is my livelihood. My bank account is right now negative and without this money by Friday there is a more than ok chance that I am going to lose the account. I did the work, and I deserve payment for it. And, a nut job with some serious mental health issues is not about to stand between me and eating. It's really that real.

My Intestines Are Going to Explode....

Last night, I thought my intestines were going to blow up. I was laying on the couch...and was so jam packed full of gas and corrosive bubbling shit...that every time I moved...or tried to boo at Sanjaya...I started to holler. I don't know what I ate, but I ain't never ever eating it again.

In the middle of the night last night...I was awoken by a wicked gurggling in my belly...I felt my small intestine shift, my sphincter slammed shut and twisted, and I sprinted to the bathroom. I'm glad that my roommate was at his boyfriend's house last night or the sonic boom that sounded when I released my ass valve...would surely have woken him up and the shock waves would have thrown him to the floor. I'm surprised I didn't have to reset all the electronics in the house from the electro-magnetic wave that clearly shot straight out of my ass.

I had to get up this morning and inspect the porcelain for cracks. Luckily the Midtown purchased heavy duty toilets...or the manufacturers have done some extensive testing. I'm feeling much better pressure wise this morning, but I still feel a little off. I'm going to go the gym and see if I can work it off a little bit...maybe some fresh spring air will do me good...except...oh yeah...I live in Minnesota---where it decided to snow yesterday. Although, it's not as bad as two years ago when it snowed on May 1st. Ridiculous.

uh-oh. I just felt another gurgle. I think, perhaps, this blog is at an end for today.

Quiana Kicked My Ass Today...

I am so proud of my girl Miss Quiana Perkins-Kirch. I've known Quiana for a coons age (I can say that...cuz I'm black)...and for Quiana's entire life she's been a big girl. A few years back, she realized that while being a big girl isn't a bad thing...and that we should all love the bodies the good Lord gave us...that being too big...is a health hazard. Q-dumplin' decided to do something about it. She took it to the gym.

She began her path to better health by working it out...once she had a good pattern going to she got that good old gastric bypass surgery...and found the strength inside herself to deal with some of the other things she needed to confront that were coming out in her body...she has come through the other side an even more beautiful person...which is hard considering she is one of the best human beings I know.

Having said all that...she busted my ass today...figuratively.

She and I have been gym buddies for the last few weeks. I've been back to the gym in a super ridiculously serious way...and I feel great. Usually, for cardio exercises, I do spinning classes four days a week. Yesterday it broke 80 degrees here in the 612...so I naively thought it would carry right on through until today...WRONG. So...this morning...I walked over to Quiana's house through the North wind which popped up just to remind us that we only get warm cuz even the wind needs a vacation now and again. Q and I saddled up...she on her nifty bike...and me on this shiny bike that turned out to be cheap as hell (it was donated to a local charity by Al Roker from the Today Show...cheap bastard).

Q and I set out down the Greenway towards the lakes...it wasn't but two minutes on our way that I realized three things...the bike was cheap as hell...that spinning and road biking are two different things...and Quiana had replaced her legs with steam pistons. This woman never had to worry about me catching up to her at any time during our trek. We biked 14 miles...and the only reason I even saw her again is that she took pity on me on that pitiful bike and stopped every 20 minutes or so to let me catch up.

We got home and I was cursing everything and everybody...but I was damn proud of the progress Quiana has made physically, mentally, and spiritually. That's my girl.

And a special shout out thank you to Quiana's lovely husband Alex...who lovingly cut up an orange into deliciously sweet slices...for Quiana and me. They taste better when they are cut up with love.

Troubled Waters...A New Poem

Hey folks...here is a new poem...it's been a long time in the making. I started it the first week of last September, and I finished it this morning. It's funny how poems come to a close...this one was waiting for something...and it turned out that it needed the addition of the lyrics to the old spiritual Wade in the Water. Which, I was not thinking of when I wrote the bulk of this poem!

I have a performance tomorrow night at 8pm at Macalester College in St. Paul in the student union. I am one of the featured performers and there is an open mic as well. It's on the MDO Stage in the Weyerhauser Student Union. Come check it out.

Troubled Waters

Wade in the water

Wade in the water children

Wade in the water

God’s going to trouble the water

In my chest there are troubled waters

vibrations causing expanding ripples

a sense of unease

a trembling waiting like a breaker collapsing

on the verge of spilling

over, through, and out

out here

right now

head shrouded and engulfed

slight pain above the temple

and I’m not sure what its all about

tired and wound too tight

at the breaking point

but there’s still much more to break through

before I’m truly in danger

unless I’m too tired to care

too care worn

Wade in the water

Wade in the water children

Like ripples on still water

movement inside of stasis

understandable separately

but meaning only grasped together

while I sit watching time

and time watches back

counting me as I beg it to move faster

move forward

move onward

need closure or an aperture

something to let out the pressure

building aching stretching my guts

distending everything I taste and touch

pushing out

until a kitchen knife offers c-section hope

a quick slice to give birth

to steaming waters gushing from my abdomen

turgid and churning

colored by intensity

tinted

tainted

polluted with insecurity

troubled waters

flooding onto the street of my familiar

filling footprints pressed into mud

unable to judge success or failure

in the silted impression

Wade in the water

God’s going to trouble the water

In my chest are trouble waters

ripples bashing against my breast

eating at my sternum

micro-fissures leaking into my chest

soaking my shirt

iron tang mist

metallic taste tongue touches

the roof of my mouth

pushes through into my nasal cavity

all smoke and no fire

as it pours dragon-style from my snout

cartilage ripped away as I try to escape

tried to run

to flee the rising flood

to get to higher ground

instead I go around

back to the place where I no longer belong

find myself in charted territory

map in hand

willingness bound

by hard water chains

Wade in the water

Wade in the water children

Wade in the water

God’s going to trouble the water

Wade in the water children is what the old spiritual says

wade in the water and get your soul wet

so I step into my chest of my trouble waters

plunge deep into the whirlpool

lift my feet planted on the bottom

watch as the finger of God stirs the waters

watch as he stirs them fast

in vertigo realizing

that my troubled waters are a gift

a baptism

a reconciliation

that the footprints I’ve seen

are a getting-through trail

left by those that walked before

left when God troubled the waters

by making them part

pushed them aside

smoothed them out

so the way becomes clear

that the trembling and shaking

that the hurting and fear

that the ripples and the waves

are signposts

mile-markers

step by step instructions

“Let those that have the ears, hear.”

In my chest are troubled waters

I lift up my feet

plunge in

drink deep.

-Brandon Lacy Campos

-Minneapolis, MN

-March 23, 2007

Maya Angelou Should Punch Tyler Perry In the Face...

So, I am reading through Maya Angelou's memoirs. I've read, in the past, All God's Children Got Traveling Shoes...but this time I thought I'd start from the beginning...cuz...I want to know why the caged bird sings...and Maya aka Marguerite Johnson....promsied to tell me all about it.

So I'm reading along...loving every word and turn of phrase...and I get this chapter in the book all about how Maya's scallywag father shows up to whisk her and her brother off to their Mama's house in St. Louis. The first thing I notice is that Maya says that her Father speaks all educated and northern and tosses random ers and ererers in his sentences...much like Madea' does when she is making fun of white folks...but I thought to myself...hold on...don't go and cry plagerism...sometimes things just hold true across time.

Man am I simple and trusting sometimes.

No sooner had I flipped the page but I come across the biggest heist ever...Maya and her brother Bailey meet their Mother...who Bailey refers to as Mother Dear...which over time becomes Ma Dear and finally...wait for it....M'Deah...OH YES! Tyler done straight up stole Maya Angelou's Mama's name and made a half a billion dollars off of it. Maya oughta punch him right in the face and then throw some hot grits on him.

Now I know why Maya was in Madea's Family Reunion. She started seeing his shows...realized he ripped her off...decided she was going to get her money out of his bank account or out of his ass...and Mr. Perry...to save face (and ass) went right on ahead, put her in his movie, and probably paid her at least $100,000,000 of that $500,000,000 he got. Cuz...he knew that if she sued....she was going to win and any time he even though the name M'Deah in the future it was going to cost him a fresh $100,000,000.

Hell...Maya was so tickled...she went right on ahead and wrote a new poem just for the movie. Sat up on that stool in the front of that wedding chapel...read it...and made the IRS real happy to collect her taxes last year.

I'm going to start reading through Alice Walker's memoirs...or maybe Zora Neal Hurston's...cuz she's real dead and didn't have any babies...at least I don't think so...see if Tyler had been smart...he would have stole some shit from somebody dead. It's harder for dead people to punch you in the face...they got to get themselves a voodooine to raise 'em up as zombies or hold on til judgement day...and by that time...you probably would have spent up all your money and died...so you probably won't mind gettin' punched in the face...can't hurt much...if you're alread dead!

I Have Had an Amputation...

So...I really haven't had an amputation...but it sure as hell feels as if I had.

Yesterday, I decided to enjoy the first beautiful spring day in Minneapolis. I scooted down to St. Athony Main and had lunch at Aster Cafe while the lovely Ebony was a workin'. She gave me free grub, and my love for her grew just a little bit. I had a productive meeting with good old Gunnar (pronounced GOO-nar...not really...but I like to say it that way). And then I decided that I needed some continuing inspiration for my pretty phenomenal track record at the gym lately...so I packed my bag, slung my jacket over my arm, and headed out de pie to walk into downtown Minneapolis to see 300 (I'm touching myself thinking about that movie right now...not really...but mentally for sure).

Well...I got about 2/3rds of the mile to mile and a half to the theater, when I thought to myself...I should check my coat pocket and make sure that my cellica phone did not drop out...as earlier it had though I'd retrieved it then...so I stopped in front of the Jaguar dealership (those of you from the TC will know the exact spot)...searched my coat...searched my bag...and shook my fist at the heavens. The cell phone was completely MIA.

So, with some excellent dance remixes of current-day Divas blaring in my ears, I retraced my exact steps all the way back to the Aster Cafe. No luck.  I asked in the cafe, I asked in several other businesses along the Main, and then I retraced my steps back downtown. Quelle horror. The cell was gone.

So, now I am cell-less and about to leave town. Awesome. I've got a stack of papers printed out with phone numbers that I am going to need to call...and pay phones have become as scarce these days as food stamp eligibility.

Its kind of silly how dependent I've become on the phone. It's my calendar as well as my address book. I don't have a house phone. And I can't even buzz people into my apartment complex without the damn thing. It's pretty ridiculous.

The good news is that I have the nifty equipment replacement insurance. The lovely people at Sprint are going to upgrade my phone for free. And I may even have just made the realization that I can get an even more upgraded phone for the same price thanks to Sprint's every 18 months get a new phone with a $150 rebate...and its an instant rebate if you go right on into the Sprint store to get it....hmmm...delicious.

So...to all my friends and lovers out there (and since I have no lovers right now...that would just be friends...thanks)...send me your phone numbers...and I will send you my love.

Babies Get In My Belly...

Wow...is my biological clock ticking. My friends Rodrigo and Nubia just had their second child. Noodle is about to pop...and her twins are going to scream into the world on March 28th through a big surgical happy face in Noodle's abdomen...Hayley is four months pregnant...Debbie is three months pregnant...and Quiana is trying her damndest to squirt the cryogenic man sperm deep enough into her vulva that it has no choice but to stick and grow into a little Q-baby.

Babies are everywhere...and I want one!

But not really.

I love the idea of a baby...I love watching babies develop...I love harrassing, teasing, and teaching small children that their parent's really are ATMs and money grows on trees that Mom and Dad are hiding from the kids in that top dresser drawer they have been forbidden to open on pain of death. But, when I think back to all the diapers I've changed (I've got seven younger siblings...three of whom I changed on a regular basis)...and all the juices, spurts, squishes, odors, and mucus that comes out of mini-people...plus the definite kibosh on sleeping through an entire evening, and I find that I really love children...other people's children...so I can send them home when they burst into spontaneous bleeding...manufacture chemical weapons in their nappies, and give Maria Callas a run for her money in the vocal department.

I am super excited that I'm going to be an Uncle again....and again...and again and again and again. Actually, it's a little ridiculous that in 2007...my friends will have brought at minimum six new little cretins into the world. Don't they know in China they would be shot for that? They have no shame in contributing to global warming with each steaming methane filled pamper! But that's the beauty of Uncledom...you can feed 'em sugar...rile 'em up...buy 'em lots of presents...let them play video games until their pupils are permanently dilated...and then turn them loose on their parents with no guilt at all.

Welcome babies!

Free Nadine Smith Now!

I sent the following statement to the National Lavender Green Caucus today in response to the arrest of LGBT civil rights leader Nadine Smith in Largo City, FL:

The National Lavender Green Caucus of the Green Party of the United States calls on the Pinellas-Pasco State Attorney's office to drop all charges against civil rights leader and Equality Florida executive director Nadine Smith.

Smith was arrested during a debate at the Largo City Commission after the city voted 5-2 in favor of firing 14 year city manager veteran Steve Stanton after he announced his transition from male to female. Nadine was arrested and treated roughly by police after she distributed a flier which read "Don't Discriminate" to a citizen attending the council meeting at that citizen's request.

"Nadine Smith is a role model, she is a friend, and she is a fierce advocate for liberation and justice for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender individuals. She was executing her constitutionally protected rights of free speech and assembly and was the victim of police brutality and old school COINTELPRO style false charges in her arrest," said former Chair of the National Lavender Green Caucus, Brandon Lacy Campos.

Smith is the only woman of color to lead a statewide LGBT organization in the United States, and she has been recognized in Florida and nationally for her work as Equality Florida's executive director.

The National Lavender Green Caucus, the national voice of LGBTQ Greens, applauds Nadine Smith for her constant work against gender identity discrimination and stands with her and her family. The Caucus recognizes that this is a hate motivated action on the part of the Largo police department and the Largo City Commission and asks that Greens and allies across the country contact the Pinellas-Pasco State Attorney's office and the Florida Attorney General's Office and demand swift action to release Ms. Smith and drop the felony count of resisting arrest and the misdemeanor count of interrupting a commission meeting immediately.