Poor

You know how fashion designers every few years come out with something like "Green, it's the new Black" And some other designer will reply, "Black is the new new black" But like, in a really snotty way? The point is, that what they meant when they said "brown is the new black" is that it's what everyone would be wearing. And that's what I mean when I say: Poor. It's the new Black.


Poor, it's the new Black.
Don't call me a racist.
I checked with numerous
Friends and associates.
All people of color. They
Said, almost every one,
"That sounds about right."
Those who didn't agree
Outright, all said "Poor?
That's the new black?
Funny, that was the
old black too.
Ya dumb ass white
motherfucker."
Or similar words.

JD Salinger

One of my heroes died today.

Charity and Compassion

Listening to christians bitch about helping the poor and dispossessed is like listening to Jews trade pork recipes.

You people have two jobs. Two. Two jobs on this earth. Practice compassion towards the less fortunate and spread the Good Word. Near as I can tell you traded those two jobs for radical conservative politics and avarice. Sorry, that's redundant. What's one word to adequately describe both? Oh I got it.

Scumbags.

You selfish fuckers better hope I'm right when I say there's no such thing as Hell.

Fuck You.

Got another

Got another facebook friend that ummm...qualifies. That's seven. My average is staying above 10%. Which I find vaguely disturbing.

Assman

I've always been an ass man.
Then for a long time, a leg man.
A breast man? Don't play the fool.
Lickable, suckable, squeezable,
Carressable. Boobs make me smile.
I kept exploring and discovered the
Best part of a woman that can exist...
The part between her ears.

And between her legs...
I'm not made out of fucking wood over here.

Bottom Line

The whole fucking world has been pretty lucky when it comes to me. Because I've definately given a fuckload more than I ever took. Fucking world better count their blessings. I'm actually significantly more skilled at taking. It requires a supreme effort of will to keep giving. Taking is like falling off a log.

Just getting tired...

Tired of phone calls, tired of bad news, tired of crush injuries and and amputations in the street. Gettin real tired.

Non-Violence

The key element to a movement that practices non-violence is the idea that we can shame those who would do us harm into stopping. That the reason they stop is because they can't bear to look at themselves while brushing their teeth. That human decency will force them to stop.

As near as I can tell, most of my enemies have no shame, even fewer have a shred of decency. If they ever had any sense or shame. other than the destructive type that clergymen hand out like candy, it was driven from them as children.

So...Am I supposed to just lay down and watch my deeply held values trampled under the feet of imbeciles? Is it reasonable for me, a man of letters, a man dedicated to making the world better, a man with a a temper, a man with training..to take up the banner that demands "Don't Tread On Me." ? Or shall I just putter along and watch these fascists destroy everything my grandparents and their grandparents worked so hard to build?

No. That's the least likely way this ends. If the ultra-right thinks they are the only scary motherfuckers out there contemplating direct action...well good. Let em believe that. That way we maybe catch em leanin the wrong way when the time comes.

So let me get this straight...

I'm a better parent than my parents were.
I'm a better citizen than most citizens.
I'm a better friend than all but one or two of my friends, maybe.
I've spent my life trying to make things better for people.
I teach people how to save lives.
I try to make people smile whenever I can.
I give away most of my time to charity.
I've fought for every single victory I have or have ever had.

And I owe whom? For what?

Humanity has earned something besides my contempt? What would that be? Mercy? Forgiveness? Sure okay, about as much as I've been shown, that's how much they've earned. I hope thay aren't expecting much.

And besides...

What fucking difference is it going to make even if we get there?

I mean seriously...

How fucking much is enough?

Haiti

What am I doing for Haiti? Talking on the phone mostly. A bit of ad copy when we need it. It sucks ass but that's the job that needs to be done.

So...Other than that I'm just trying real hard to keep from going under.

I cried.

I cried because I had no shoes
Until I saw a man who had no feet
Then I ran into another guy with
Six hundred dollar python skin boots.
So I sobbed my quinty little eyes out.

That's the greatest lie ever told.
That my happiness is in another's hands
Because even when I saw the guy with
No feet, I thought "I bet his feet feel
Better than mine do right now. "

It's not a contest. It's not a race.
It is simply moving from one simple
moment to the next as best you can.
If it was a contest or race, it wouldn't matter
You'd be the only competitor.

There is nothing to master in life
But one's self. There is no devil
But the ones within. Maybe it's a
Game. Perhaps a journey or a lesson.
Or random molecules moving from collision to collision.

If it's a game, it's a game you can't lose.
A trek? wherever you stop, there you'll be.
If it's a lesson, I think we all get A's if we participate.
And if it's realy just wads of matter smashing together?
Be careful you don't get yourself killed.

Redheads

I have this major thing for redheads. Always have. Dated blonds for a long time. Dated latinas for a while. I can remember when I thought dark haired women were exotic. Dated a couple Sisters. That's a whole other post. But I always came back to redheads. I just, dig redheads. And I've had my share. Invariably, the question is asked by some crude nonredhead chaser, "Do the curtains match the carpets?" The correct answer is, "Mind your business before I jam your fuckin head through that window." But in truth, in nearly all cases, in my personal experience is, and this is completely anectodal but very well reseached in the field. The truth is:

"Yeah well it's mostly hardwood. There is, however, a small but quite expensive, nicely arranged little rug there. And yeah. It fucking matches the drapes.

Ronald on My Mind

I was living in Portland, up in the NE, driving cab and getting laid full time. I had a roomate. An Irishman from Pittsburgh named Jimmy. And a brother from LA, a musician. Forgot his name. Leon, I think, maybe...who cares now. Me and Jimmy worked together for a long time and he had a room and I was sleeping...wherever. So I moved in. Me and Jimmy were the only two white men in the neighborhood. A couple of lesbians lived across the street but that's as diverse as our neighborhood got. I knew a white bookie, lived about eight blocks away. Well...that's the NE.

So we go to this Fred Meyers one day. Jimmy needs some bullshit. I'm riding along. There's a McDonalds in the place so I go for a snack. Jimmy's trying on, who cares...gayest fucking straight man I ever met. Gaydar is off the charts. Totally het. But fuck him anyway. He once called me the stupidest genius he'd ever met so, paybacks muhfuckuh. Back to the story.

There's a bench there with a life size statue of Ronald McDonald that you can sit on. I sat down to eat...And the bench moved. Odd. I leaned back. It didn't seem to be attached to anything except gravity. Now, those of you without sin cast the first stone. But...I stood just a little and attempted to suruptuousley gauged the weight. It wasn't light, but it wasn't that heavy either. And we had an SUV in the parking lot. Oh and the best part. It was about...maybe 30 feet from the door. I look around. I don't see any cameras. None that would matter. Terry shows up. I lean back in the bench. He looks down.
"Is that thing not bolted to the floor?"
"Nope"
"Whadaya figure it weighs?"
"Not too much"
I smile
He smiles
"You know how fucking shit cool that would look in the front room?"
"Funny I was thinking the same."
We look around. This is gonna take seconds literally.
"Okay dude, back the Explorer right up to the door. Jump out."
He finished for me "Grab this fucker and go."
"Yep"

He went out, I waited pretended to still be eating, waiting for him to pull up, waiting where the fuck is he? I'm waiting for the Explorer to appear. In walks Jimmy. He tilts his head. Not tonight we ain't lifting this piece of coolness. Come on brah, you're talking to the man who once shoplifted a canoe. Nope says his face. I follow him out after a few minutes. Hop in.

"What the fuck chuck? "
"You know, not 15 minutes ago I used a a credit card to purchase goods in that store? "
"Was it under your name?"
"Yes it was."
"Well...we can't steal that thing then."

And I don't know who started talking first but it went something like this.

"Okay that place is open late"
"I disagree, that's when their watching closest"
"Good point okay so, middle of the day"
"Take the plates off the Explorer, or even better, borrow Corrine's van and take the plates off"
"Then we snatch it and run"
"Oh fuck man, we get coveralls and pick it up like it's our job. "
"Fucking perfect. How soon?"
"Next week too soon?"
"No, that should be good."

But we didn't that week. Shit was going on, or the next week. And then months blend together and it becomes something we're gonna get drunk and do some time. But sometime never came. I moved out. Back down to my old neighborhood, Felony Flats. Yeah and if you know Portland you know I ain't lying. I kept on driving cab, straightening up and flying right. Which, if you've ever hacked you know there is nothing straight or right about it. It's like being a cowboy. With girls. Few months later the DEA kicked in Jimmy's door over some misunderstanding. They questioned me for about 15 minutes. The whole fucking place was bugged the whole time we all lived there. They knew Jimmy did this all on his own. I knew nothing about it. The cops knew everything about everything. So if you were fucking me during that time. Ummmmm...The feds got it all on tape. Oops.

I moved on to my next personal paradigm. Jimmy got 25 years in federal prison for drug trafficking. Plus...No Ronald McDonald.

Fuckin Pigs

So I'm in fucking court one day and I have my little sit-down with my counselor and I asked her if she thought the cops were actively surveiling me. And she said yes. Yes they were.

I shrugged "Okay but besides what they normally do?"

"They're opening your mail"

"Yeah, like besides opening my mail."

"I don't really know what their priorities are."

"Well, what's your professional opinion? You are my fucking lawyer."

"Probably yes. I sure as hell would be. "

Fuck man. There are good points and bad points to having an ex-cop as your defense attorney. But there isn't much that sucks worse than having cops following you around. It's like your worst college professor ever, teaching a class that never ends, with the right to open fire if you answer any of the questions wrong enough.

Kim's Poem

For her birthday.

Your heart seems worried
Afraid the years pass too fast
Patience, my love. It took a
Mighty long way, finding you.

It took me longer to find you
Than the Israelites wandered
I expect to be loving you for a
Damn sight longer than that.

Testing

Okay, I'm practicing this so if I fuck it up...well I'll delete it so that makes this whole line of thoug...

I've never had a brother. Two sisters. And most of the families around me, to this day, mostly just have sisters. My own family, all girls. My wife's family, mostly girls. I have had three male first cousins, ever. It's weird. My two best friends? No brothers. Both had sisters. My sisters had what seemed like dozens of friends that only had sisters. When I was a kid my grandparents lived next door to a family with four sisters.

I've spent my life in a sorority.

A Top 20 List for 2009

The Top 20 Things My Wife Said To Me In 2009*

*In order of frequency

1. "Do you have my lighter?"

2. "Give me back my lighter."

3. "You stole my lighter again, didn't you?"

4. "I love you"

5. Upon walking into my office..."GIVE ME MY FUCKING LIGHTER!"

6. "Go write something."

7. "No no no. I did not say tell me what you're going to write I said go write it."

8. "I'll take care of it."

9. "You should take care of that."

10. "Goddamn, you're good in bed." Okay that's not really 10 in order of frequency but it moved up a bunch of spaces because of sheer ego and intensity.

11. "Lower your voice."

12. "What?"

13. "Ummmm. Lighter...I swear to god Michael, you're like a fucking klepto or something. Lighters just find their way into your pocket like the One Ring don't they? You need help."

14. "Let me help you with that."

15. "Help me with this."

16. "Our daughter needs our help"

17. "We need to talk to our daughter."

18. "GO FUCKING WRITE SOMETHING!"

19. "You are the biggest lighter thief I've ever met."

20. "I still love you anyway."

I'm just sayin...

They should take all that bonus money that they gave to the bankers and the insurers and all the rest of those ticks and give it to whoever designed the Mars Rovers. And chicks. Or dudes. Must be some women on the team. Or gay men. Whatever. Hotties of whatever variety is preferred. Because, let's face it. These people who designed this thing probably don't get laid much. And the money. All the bonus money, tax free and all the mad sweaty love they want. Forever. That should be their reward for designing the Mars Rovers.