January 23rd, Saturday/ Where was I last week on the Monday that Martin Luther King's birthday was celebrated? I usually get up at 6 a.m. by radio alarm to the Mike and Mike Show on ESPN radio. I was informed that "Greenie" ( The real thin Mike) referred to MLK as Martin Luther "Coon!" I got the information out of context so...
But, I heard that and I also heard that there is a group that is considering starting an all white pro basketball league! (No Negroes allowed!)
Here is my point... Racism is alive and well. It does not go away... EVER! It's like herpes. Now, here's the irony. If Black Americans are so disregarded and disrespected and unwanted in America, why did some dumb ass even have the bright idea to bring us here in the first place?
Showing posts with label hatred. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hatred. Show all posts
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
A Warped POV by A. Dacosta Brathway
January 18th, Monday/ I have to say that I am not a big music video fan but I sometimes watch them to see who is doing what out there in pop land. There is one chick that has my undivided attention... And that chick is Lady Gaga!!! Talk about reinventing the wheel? To me she seems to be a cross between Madonna, Annie Lenox and "Lily" (Herman Munster's wife) and I don't mean that in a bad way! This girl has an act!
If she were mentoring girls and said that "you can be anything you want!" to them, I would believe her! She is something different! The clothes, the hair, the makeup, the dance routines, the singing, the lyrics... I could only wish that my balls were big enough to be that different! I wonder what planet she is from? (I know she is from New York but that is like being from another planet!)
Anyway, I applaud her because she dares to be... whatever! Too bad the whole world is not that free in mindset to be that expressive. Maybe it would be a better place if we could all live and let live... But, no. We are trapped in a thought process that is way too restrictive and discriminating. It seems like the more alike we are in thinking, the better for some folks!
Pat Robinson had the audacity to say that the earthquake Haiti endured was self imposed because Haiti made a pact with the devil! I saw a news report on 60 Minutes where dead bodies were being loaded into dump trucks by a huge earth mover! Now, even if I thought that, how could I be so insensitive to spread that comment around, considering the circumstance?
One day, before I leave the planet, I would like to experience just one day where my mind thought like Lady Gaga thinks! Just one day I would like to know what that feels like... To be that free of thought where I dared to do whatever and not worry about what others thought... Man, that would be some kind of freedom(?)!
If she were mentoring girls and said that "you can be anything you want!" to them, I would believe her! She is something different! The clothes, the hair, the makeup, the dance routines, the singing, the lyrics... I could only wish that my balls were big enough to be that different! I wonder what planet she is from? (I know she is from New York but that is like being from another planet!)
Anyway, I applaud her because she dares to be... whatever! Too bad the whole world is not that free in mindset to be that expressive. Maybe it would be a better place if we could all live and let live... But, no. We are trapped in a thought process that is way too restrictive and discriminating. It seems like the more alike we are in thinking, the better for some folks!
Pat Robinson had the audacity to say that the earthquake Haiti endured was self imposed because Haiti made a pact with the devil! I saw a news report on 60 Minutes where dead bodies were being loaded into dump trucks by a huge earth mover! Now, even if I thought that, how could I be so insensitive to spread that comment around, considering the circumstance?
One day, before I leave the planet, I would like to experience just one day where my mind thought like Lady Gaga thinks! Just one day I would like to know what that feels like... To be that free of thought where I dared to do whatever and not worry about what others thought... Man, that would be some kind of freedom(?)!
Monday, January 14, 2008
My Life Sucked Which, Psychologically, Affected Me To Aspire To Become a Vaccuum Cleaner Or a Writer!
January '08/ This is a part of the Prelude (The Wonder Years)to my new book. I will reveal snippets of my colorful life until I find something more interesting to write about during the course of '08.
Growing up in Brooklyn, New York, during the beginning of the Civil Rights Movement was both a scary and rewarding experience. Prior to 1955, I never thought I had anything to worry about. Then all hell broke loose for me! Emmit Teale was murdered, there was a big march in the South, Black folks needed Federal marshals just to get around town and everybody hated everybody! Now, living in New York at that time, was a little different than living in the South because racism was deep under cover. I did not know I was hated until a big Irish cop ordered me and my friends to get off the street corner before he knocked the shit out of us. (Which may have helped me because I remember being constipated a lot?)
After I graduated from Junior High School, integration set in. The high school all the black guys went to was two blocks from my house. I could have slept late, walked the two blocks and never been late for school. But, somebody decided that blacks and whites needed to go to school together so I was shipped out to Flatbush, Brooklyn to go to an all white high school. What a joke that turned out to be. The blacks hated the whites and the whites hated the blacks and I was stuck right in the middle. I didn’t hate anybody, at that time. There were race riots every week! I didn’t like fighting, although I had my first racially inspired fight in high school. The guy I fought was an Italian kid with a funny accent. He talked like “Vinny Barbarino” from the sitcom “Welcome Back Carter.” (I wonder if that kid was John Travolta?) I had to find a way to get home without getting my ass kicked. Back in my ‘hood, I was running with a bunch of guys who fashioned themselves as young revolutionaries. We all had big afro hairdos and we wore African garb. We spoke in “pig Latin” because Swahili was too hard to learn and we talked about killing the enemy all the time when we smoked reefer.
The Vietnam War was in full effect and I knew that I did not want to go there. I felt like going to Vietnam was like going to Flatbush except that there was no bus or subway there that could bring me back home. To me, at that time, it was one thing to fight for your country and it was a whole ‘nother thing to fight for your life! I chose my life! (No, I did not defect to Canada… My mother would not let me go there- kill joy!) By my junior year in high school, I started rebelling. I did not want to go to school anymore but, since I had to go, I figured I would start failing all of my classes! (I got bored being an honor student!) The only one in the school who seemed to care whether I passed or failed was my young, Jewish English teacher, who had just gotten married and had a crush on me! I didn’t think anything of it until she asked me to take her home with me and I could not figure out a way to sneak her into my crib without my mother finding out about it. She had “jungle fever,” only it was more like Malaria now that I look back on it. She was good looking but way too motherly for me. I already had the “mother of all mothers!” Don’t get me wrong, I loved my mother but she was a motherf#@ker!
Growing up in Brooklyn, New York, during the beginning of the Civil Rights Movement was both a scary and rewarding experience. Prior to 1955, I never thought I had anything to worry about. Then all hell broke loose for me! Emmit Teale was murdered, there was a big march in the South, Black folks needed Federal marshals just to get around town and everybody hated everybody! Now, living in New York at that time, was a little different than living in the South because racism was deep under cover. I did not know I was hated until a big Irish cop ordered me and my friends to get off the street corner before he knocked the shit out of us. (Which may have helped me because I remember being constipated a lot?)
After I graduated from Junior High School, integration set in. The high school all the black guys went to was two blocks from my house. I could have slept late, walked the two blocks and never been late for school. But, somebody decided that blacks and whites needed to go to school together so I was shipped out to Flatbush, Brooklyn to go to an all white high school. What a joke that turned out to be. The blacks hated the whites and the whites hated the blacks and I was stuck right in the middle. I didn’t hate anybody, at that time. There were race riots every week! I didn’t like fighting, although I had my first racially inspired fight in high school. The guy I fought was an Italian kid with a funny accent. He talked like “Vinny Barbarino” from the sitcom “Welcome Back Carter.” (I wonder if that kid was John Travolta?) I had to find a way to get home without getting my ass kicked. Back in my ‘hood, I was running with a bunch of guys who fashioned themselves as young revolutionaries. We all had big afro hairdos and we wore African garb. We spoke in “pig Latin” because Swahili was too hard to learn and we talked about killing the enemy all the time when we smoked reefer.
The Vietnam War was in full effect and I knew that I did not want to go there. I felt like going to Vietnam was like going to Flatbush except that there was no bus or subway there that could bring me back home. To me, at that time, it was one thing to fight for your country and it was a whole ‘nother thing to fight for your life! I chose my life! (No, I did not defect to Canada… My mother would not let me go there- kill joy!) By my junior year in high school, I started rebelling. I did not want to go to school anymore but, since I had to go, I figured I would start failing all of my classes! (I got bored being an honor student!) The only one in the school who seemed to care whether I passed or failed was my young, Jewish English teacher, who had just gotten married and had a crush on me! I didn’t think anything of it until she asked me to take her home with me and I could not figure out a way to sneak her into my crib without my mother finding out about it. She had “jungle fever,” only it was more like Malaria now that I look back on it. She was good looking but way too motherly for me. I already had the “mother of all mothers!” Don’t get me wrong, I loved my mother but she was a motherf#@ker!
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