I have to warn you that I am so disappointed and angry about the firing of Don Imus that I will probably be cussing a lot in this post. Sorry.

"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone"

Sound familiar? I mean for real, if you are like a great percentage of the American population and live in or near an urban area, and socialize at all...you have at least one time uttered the words "nappy headed ho" in jest. Don't fucking lie to me now. You most likely said this in the company of your African American friends and most likely you and and your black friends got a laugh out of it.

IT WAS A FUCKING JOKE. It was a fucking joke and a fucking calculated (albeit misfired) publicity stunt. Have we turned into such moronic big fucking insecure babies that we no longer have the mental capacity to recognize the fucking difference between a fucking joke and a fucking actual malicious attack on a minority???

Shit yall...save up your indignation for demons like Reverand Phelps and the murderers of Matthew Shepard and James Chaney. THE REAL VILLIANS...our real enemies. Not the shock jocks and rap artists that maybe...just maybe be jerking our chains and trying to make us look in the mirror as a contemporary culture. Good God almighty...these are the real evil mother fuckers in my world...not some goofy funny shock jock. Some shock jock that doesn't mean a Goddam thing by what he said that morning.

He joked like you and I tend to. Unless you are some fucking saint or some fucking deity, you have JOKED along those lines too. Come on...admit it, yall. Don't fucking lie to me. If I am out partying with a group of friends here in Atlanta, my posse tends to be pretty multi fucking cultural and racial. If I'm kicked back in the East Side Lounge with my sweet friends and I talk about "nappy headed hos", I'll get a laugh and I'll get a slap and a hug. BUT...If Imus says it in jest on national radio, ooooh noooo...he gets fucking fired and has his livelihood taken away. FUCKING HYPOCRISY. FUCKING HYPOCRISY. FUCKING HYPOCRISY.

Goddam it, America...look in the mirror. Fucking check yourself before you wreck yourself.

Use me as an example if you like. If you think of me a dirty faggot, well I SURE AS HELL want to know that you think that about me. I truly want you to have the freedom to voice that. If you are given the forum for free speech as outlined in the first amendment, I...along with everyone else knows where you stand and how your fucked up mind is working. If I silence you, you will stew in quiet hatred and instead of discussing and debating, you may just fucking jack my ass in frustration. Get it?

It frightens me that Imus got fired for telling an off color joke. What fucking amazes me is the fact that it wasn't that damn offensive or relevent against the barometer of contempory American culture...after all...the team is a mixed race team. Fuck, yall...I have really tight curly hair myself. I'M AS FUCKING NAPPY HEADED AS THEY ARE. I'm nappy headed and...uh...well...not a ho anymo...but I GET THAT IT WAS JUST AN OFF COLOR JOKE.

I was shocked at Imus's comments merely because I couldn't believe he said it. I wasn't indignant though, because I have said those words dozens of times jokingly in the company of my friends...my female friends, my black friends.

I got laughs and hugs... but Imus got laughs and lost his fucking job.

If we are getting to the point we can censor a comedian for a joke, where does it go next? Will we next censor a war protester for a controversial sign or sentiment? Will we set in motion an environment in which we snuff out any and all opinions we disagree with? Sounds too fucking Nazi to me.

Some great minds and miraculous visionaries conceived and wrote the Bill of Rights and the first amendment. Something aint right here.

Pictured below is a map of the survelence cameras that are now installed in the London neighborhood where George Orwell once lived while he wrote the novel 1984.

.
.
"What we need now is bread,
soft dough to dig
fingers in, to knuckle and
pinch, pummel and punch
down. Like the grass
when crushed under foot
springing back,
it will not cry out or
die like daughters
and sons.
If we must raise our
fists, let us
plunge them in the body
of yeast and wheat.
Bread is not flesh.
Our hands will come
clean if we rise like
acre upon acre of shining
grain. Let us be sun-
ripe and light
like the crusty
loaves. Let us break
bread."

~Terry Song "A Prayer For Peace"

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T

This can't be happening. Please, for the love of Christ and everything that is holy, please please don't tell me that the older I get, the more I actually identify with Kathy Bates' character in Fried Green Tomatoes.

The video is way funnier if you remember the dialog that proceeds it...

Evelyn: Excuse me. I was waiting for that space.
Girl #1: Yeah, tough!
Girl #2: Face it, lady, we're younger and faster.
Evelyn: .....

(here's where the video begins)



T

For some reason I was thinking about S&H Green Stamps...actually the yellow ones from the other company that I can't remember the name of.



The idea was that you collected enough to fill up these books that you could eventually trade in for random stuff like radios or vacuum cleaners or bikes or stuff.

The problem to me then was that it took so many books to buy anything decent. I'd go over to the Yellow Stamp Store (still can't think of the name) every time we went to the laundromat across the street and look at all the stuff and dream about filling up my books.

At some point it dawned on me that it would probably take years to collect enough books of stamps to trade in for the crappy cassette recorder I wanted. I was 7. I figured that by the time I had enough to trade in for the crappy cassette recorder, I would be approximately 30 years old.

The store did let you actually just purchase the stuff and forgo the whole stamp collecting process. My mom volunteered to do this and just buy the crappy cassette recorder, but in my warped 7 year old mind this seemed like cheating somehow and I told her not to.

Needless to say, I did not go on to major in economics in college.

T

"I like to have a Martini
two at the very most
three I'm under the table
four I'm under my host"

~Dorothy Parker