What I Learned in Church 2-10-13

Father Joe is always on time. Spiritually, that is! That man will have you forgetting you’re Catholic…five hour long church trying to play the saxophone and preaching two extra sermons… At least there’s only one collection.

Seriously, we’re still in and out in an hour and a half.  At least he makes people want to go. That’s huge in this day and age. People are ready to give up at the slightest bit of controversy or difficulty. Lord knows the Catholic Church has had some difficulties. (Understatement) We have greed running rampant in other churches, Sex, All kinds of Sex and Even More Sex. How do we respond? The same thing we always do. We run. "I don't want to go to church"

Don't let a few bad apples run all the good people out of church!

Don’t let a few bad apples run us out of anywhere. We abandon everything. We come, we consume, we ask, we take, we get full and when we get asked to do some real spiritual work, we pack up all we’ve taken over the years and run away, leaving only the trash behind. We do it in our schools, we do it in our neighborhoods, and we go all the way with church. We might change churches for a short while but eventually we just leave.

I read this book one time (or three/four). It may or may not be 100% true but it does illustrate the possibility of man. The one thing I believe is that we must never give up and (SPOILER ALERT) we (the good people) win! So why you running? Think you’re not good enough?

God will perfect whatever is defective

(Isaiah 6) “Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.” Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.”

I’m not going to front; right after that God told Isaiah not to tell anyone they were saved so they would suffer a little more and repent before he let them off the hook. That happens. You can’t avoid it. Sometimes we try to avoid the temporary discomfort so we stay in the mess we’re in instead of moving forward through to the end. Go one through it! Again, a lot of ups and downs in that book but it ends well.

Isaiah 43:1,2 “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior;

You know there’s a lot of fire and brimstone in the bible. Don’t be afraid. If you choose the right side, you won’t get burned. Just make sure you choose right. No fence straddling.

(1 Corinthians 15)And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. More than that, we are then found to be false witnesses about God, for we have testified about God that he raised Christ from the dead. But he did not raise him if in fact the dead are not raised.

It’s simple. We believe in Jesus, not some magic superhero who flies in and stops us from being assholes. We believe in a man being able to transcend the flesh and distractions of the world to attain true peace. We believe that we can practice and practice and attain a similar peace. (And that may be where we falter…) Too much unattainable magic and not enough practical advice.

So here it is:

•         Repeat after me “My miracle is on the way.”
•          Get ready. That means look at your faith.
•          Stop dwelling in the past.
•          If you don’t know how to pray, learn.
•          After you pray, meditate. (Meditation first step is clearing your mind)

Jesus removed his self from the world often to focus. And when he did, he was listening. He wasn’t doing a whole bunch of jaw-jacking and not waiting for an answer. Shut up sometimes! To be clear, shut up for at least five minutes every day (to start).

·       
             Keep casting your nets! Some of my friends are wonderful salesmen/women not because they know anything about what they are selling. They are great at it not even because they don’t take no for an answer. It’s because they keep going, believing that someone will say yes. Just like Colonel Sanders, it might take 1010 attempts and the majority of your life to get your miracle. Why are you giving up on yourself?

      A lot of yall give up at 23 after two ‘No’s. And still try to claim you believe in something.

Luke 6 - Simon answered, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.” … When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!” For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken,…

How many of yall would listen to someone who wasn’t an expert in “your field”.  I can hear the majority of you now running back to your egos at the mention of similar advice. “I been doing … for … years! What you trying to tell me?” “If you know so much, why don’t you do it?” The least we can do with any advice is to meditate on it. Find a way to make the best of everything given us.

So, one more thing before I go. Fight!

Believe in what you say you believe in. I’m getting tired of all the woe is me, look at how strong the devil is, illuminati, conspiracy this, conspiracy that talk. Too many of us say we believe in eternity and still deathly afraid of every little fool hollering boo at our God. SMH.

Isaiah 41:10 I have chosen you and have not rejected you. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. “All who rage against you will surely be ashamed and disgraced; those who oppose you will be as nothing and perish. Though you search for your enemies, you will not find them.

Don't worry I will ALWAYS be with you (not only when the bullies aren't around). AND ALL (A-L-L, every single one) enemies will be ashamed and disgraced; they will be as nothing and perish. Shoot, you won’t even be able to find them if you look for them! And Lord knows yall like to look for enemies!

Gina noticed that the message is always the same and said that’s OK because that’s what the Bible is. Something happens, you maintain your faith, God shows up. That’s it. And it only works that way. Not – something happens, you run like hell or something happens, you have faith for two days, then you give up and do it your way on the third day… That’s the way you do it. It’s called faith because it works especially when it doesn’t look like it will. That’s it.

1300 words later, the simple truth is, if you say you believe in something, prove it. If it’s worthwhile it WILL work! Watch!

You’re A Crackhead

      I used to assume people were on crack based on their behavior…

            Now I see addiction is one behavior all to itself.

            As I explore my life, I realize. I’ve always been an addict. There was always something I’ve been addicted to. When I outgrew one thing, I shifted to another. My adult life has always been an exercise in impulse control. What is amazing is, in writing this intro, I discovered a seamless shift between my two major vices, both of which center around one fixation.

            As early as I can remember I sucked my thumb. My parents started trying to talk me out of it early. I also had a pillow similar to Linus’ blanket. My mom even tried to sew a different cover on the pillow to hide it from me. The attraction wasn’t visual though. With the pillow, as well as the main fixation, it was sensual. I loved the feel of the fabric inside the pillow. I would pull and rub it through the outer material and that friction and sensation were incomparable. I even found an alternative inside certain jacket/coat pockets as well as my comforter. I was able to abandon the pillow and go mobile. I don’t know if there is a causation but the “pillow” habit does correlate with me not masturbating until I was 18.

            The attraction to sucking my thumb was oral. Nothing persuaded me to stop. Nothing! At 13 I just stopped. Around the same time, I started drinking on the weekends. I’m sure there is a correlation. I never stopped drinking. Nothing could change that.

            As I became a person who questions my motivations, I began to see patterns which paralleled addictive behavior. My eating became habit. Although I enjoy a wide variety of foods, I found myself sticking to one or just a few meals. My comfort foods are foods of habit. Even now I’m in the middle of a love affair with peanuts. My effort must go into ignoring peanuts sometimes just so that I can eat other foods and not peanuts all day.

            Then there is my greed. I can only eat just one Lay. But I don’t want to! I want the whole bag. No matter what size, I must practice putting it down. If I like it, I want it all, all the time. (And I’m good at it too!)

            And that is addiction; habit and greed.

            Only my sensuality and oral fixation saved me from smoking. I never enjoyed the way cigarettes made my mouth feel. Plus, the need for sensation had me inhaling deeper and deeper. Soon I was carrying Listerine and gum 24/7 and brushing my teeth ten times a day. I was a bachelor. I couldn’t be caught unprepared to kiss. And I didn’t want to limit myself to other smokers, although I was more than ready to exploit their oral fixations. And the cigarette butts everywhere and the smoke…  no tanto sexy!

            So over 30 years after I first picked up my pillow and popped my thumb in my mouth, self examination has me practicing self control and asking myself which habits to keep. Labeling myself as an addictive personality, I wonder what it really means to be an addict.

            People are addicted to so many things: drugs, work, sex, money, naked-dick sex, sex, gambling, gossip, negativity, positivity, church, coffee, cigarettes, bacon, Oprah, did I say sex?, sex (just in case)… What is it that connects all these people? And when does one become that all encompassing addict – a crackhead?

            At some point one thing takes top priority and spreads the gap between first priority and second priority so far apart that someone who meets you will make no other assumption except – You are a crackhead.

            It’s no secret, when it comes to DUI’s, I’m 5-0 – no convictions. (Update: I'm 5-1. I suffered a forfeit.) I still had to go to AA meetings. They didn’t take. Not that there is anything wrong with AA or it’s steps and traditions. It seemed every time I went, I couldn’t connect with the people telling the stories. There were absolutely no similarities. All those people smoked crack. Even if they didn’t say so, no drinker could possibly do or go through the things they talked about. Plus, alcohol’s not the gateway drug, weed is. That’s DARE 101. I didn’t have anything in common with a crackhead

            That was denial. My ego was fighting hard to keep me comfortable and blind. Only when I abandoned my ego was I able to see that.

            We all tend to view addiction as an extreme only inside the realm of drug use. The crackhead is just the person who is addicted to crack and acts crazy.

But what if (Big IF)

we aren’t addicted to crack and we still act like a crackhead.

What makes a crackhead? Is it only the crack? Could it be more than usual tomfoolery we associate with crackheads?

A confession: I must admit that I am an addict. I first started dabbling in my teens. I would mess around with it then retreat to “safety” before things got too heavy. I carried on this way off and on for years. Things came to a head when I moved to Atlanta. Of course, there was a girl. She turned me out. I had to have more then. I thought about it all the time. I was trying up women left and right. I may have turned a few out. I tried to stay straight for a few years. I even let a few women off the hook to protect them from my addiction. I thought I had it under control. I didn’t. It wasn’t until I submitted to my higher power that I was able to come out of it. Thank God I got out clean. I still struggle from time to time but God is on my side for real!

            Now it is time for me to lay it all out on the table for my family and friends and admit it finally. I am…

This is hard…

…I am…

…an…

…a naked-dicker.

It was hard to admit that. Rock bottom for me was waiting on the results of my AIDs test and reliving my sexual past. I passed. I’m in recovery now. Everyday it’s a battle.

I had to admit that now so that people can truly understand the nature of addiction. You can be addicted to the most harmless things. The addiction and addiction behavior make those things dangerous. Be careful of being an addict.            

            …to anything…

You too may be a Crackhead…

F**k Joe Paterno: What About The Children?

What About The Children?

F**k Joe Paterno

That wasn’t my first response to hearing about his passing away…

Penn State football was probably keeping Joe Paterno alive. It gets kind of rough there. He was responsible for his own actions that led to his being fired. So, in a way, he killed his self. That in itself is a sad thought.

Let’s get a little darker.

Fuck Joe Paterno.

            Somewhere along the line we got distracted. Again! A child’s innocence was stolen by a monster. Again! We are paying attention to the wrong stuff. Again!

            This young lady is in a lot of pain. She was a victim. And, just like now, when it happened to her, the ‘adults’ were too busy discussing everything else. We got distracted by Joe Paterno and whether he would be charged. Should he have been fired? Before that it was Eddie Long and the church. What’s going to happen to New Birth? Is he going to stay on or step aside? Before that it was the musical chairs in the Catholic Church.

This whole time, all these years, people have been suffering. While we were discussing everything else, we were missing an opportunity for healing. Focusing on the devils and demons walking around, we are overlooking the people who need us the most.

This young lady reminded me. The most important thing going on is that there are people who need our Love. This young lady needs our Love. Four young men in Atlanta need our Love. Countless other young men and women need Love.

Some may try to passive aggressively turn the attention back to the children but this young lady’s blog made me realize that the time has passed for passive-aggressive suggestions. Fuck Joe Paterno. Fuck Eddie Long. Fuck all those priests. They don’t deserve our attention. Our Love is needed by children and adults all over the world.

This is a hard topic to deal with but that is the very reason why we can’t afford to tip toe around the issue. We must protect children. And when we fail, we must not ignore the hard work of healing. Fuck anybody who will attempt to distract us from our children when they need us the most.

Thank God for this young lady speaking up and reminding me that we have gotten WAY of track. It’s not too late. It’s never too late to LOVE.

Love!

Chasing The P: Tammy & Kathryn

Chasing The P: Tammy & Kathryn

LaShawn asked a question: “Men: Do you really NOT know when a woman your boy might be interested in is really MORE interested in YOU?! Or do you really know but NOT trying to go there with her because you know your boy is feeling her? ~ He's my "Bro", she's my "Sister" crap Kills me Ortega!”

This was the short answer:

(Part 1) I kind of get what you're asking. This is just a flirting situation. She would have to shut my boy down completely for me to notice. The reason I'm ignorant of her intentions is because I'm actually ignoring her until she turns my boy down. Unless that happens, she's with him

(Part 2) It's because women won't say anything straight out. That's the point of this whole post. IF a woman just said "I like you. I don't like him" or vice-versa, men wouldn't jump to conclusions. If we have to guess, I'm erring on the side of optimism. That means whipping it out. All you can do is tell me to put it back

This was my long answer:

I owe a lot of my early love life to Anthony. In the days before we had cars, our own places, and any money at all, Anthony was the best wing man ever. If I could just match that productivity now, I’d be a trillionaire. He was on the phone tough during any free time we had and could sell ice to Eskimos.

In 1993, one of the best years ever, he called me. We had dates to the movies. He had met a girl who had a friend. (Oh those days…) “My girl” was named Kathryn. “His” was Tammy. To the Culver City we went. The Marina was to meet girls; Culver City was the low-key date movie theater.

Tammy was gorgeous. Very petite, the most beautiful face, and she dressed well. If Anthony hadn’t told me he met her already, I would have chosen her. Kathryn was beautiful too. She had a nice figure, cute face, and her accent was attractive. She was American, Black, from Los Angeles but she spoke so different. She was cool.

Anthony had given me the rundown. Both were: private school girls (different private schools), best friends, lived down the street from each other.

For almost two years, Tammy and Kathryn were our main dates. I was getting serious about Kathryn but things moved slowly. Kathryn couldn't have boyfriends and she didn’t always get to come out. That became a big problem and eventually the end of Kathryn and I.

Tammy, however, was the focal point of all our kicking it. She had other friends and would invite them if Kathryn couldn't make it. She and Anthony’s relationship was strange. According to him, she had a boyfriend she wasn't faithful to. She spent A LOT of time with us though. Her mom loved me. Most parents did then. I was the master of the living room.

I didn't think of it then but Anthony shared a little too much about their relationship. It occurred to me that I knew too much about some P that I wasn't getting and would probably never get. All that mattered was Tammy was cool and she had friends. AND we had something to do nearly all the time. I could always ask Anthony to call Tammy to get it popping if Chasing the P elsewhere wasn't going well. Over the years I've had a ton of homegirls. Tammy may have been my first real homegirl.

Homegirls are essential to Chasing the P. A good one has plenty of satellite friends that you can hook up with. Unfortunately, I got out of hand with Chasing the P one night or twice when Kathryn wasn't able to come out. Her name was Sheri. She appeared to be the perfect satellite friend. Anthony told me she was easy and Tammy told me she wouldn’t tell so I went for it. That was end Kathryn. For a month or two I was so sad/mad at myself, I actually started listening to R&B for more than making sex tapes. I realized what Babyface was talking about.

Fortunately, Tammy kept in touch for five more years. She would call every once in a while. I wanted to call her but I intentionally ‘forgot’ her number out of respect for whatever she had going on with Anthony. There are rules to Chasing the P. Tammy was awesome and she still had friends. After high school, I wasn't playing any games. All of my networking was connected in some way to Chasing the P. Anthony rarely mentioned Tammy anymore. I definitely looked forward to her calls. Initially, I wanted to fish for news of Kathryn but, soon, I just wanted to talk to Tammy.

By the time we were twenty Anthony and I were growing apart. We had different friends and priorities. We were still talking and hanging out when I mentioned seeing Tammy on the street one day. Anthony told me she had a boyfriend and had ended their sexual relationship. Now, I wished I remembered Tammy’s number. I don’t do my boy’s left-overs but Tammy was different. I wanted to know everything. There was only one way to find out.

A few weeks or a few months later, Tammy called. For the first time ever, she mentioned her and Anthony’s relationship. She only said that he was acting strange and didn’t talk to her that often. After all these years, I assumed I could speak frankly. Plus, L.A. was being born. I just told the truth as I knew it, as subtly as a dump truck…

“That’s because yall ain't fucking no more.”

“WHAT???”

I repeated.

What happened in the next five/ten minutes was the above story from Tammy’s perspective. There were some MAJOR differences.

Contrary to Anthony’ story, the day I met Tammy was EVERYONE’s first time meeting. She hoped I was Anthony, she confessed. She had always considered Anthony just a homeboy. There was no sex of any type going on between the two. I asked about instances where he would maneuver her to her bedroom. She claimed they were talking about some other girl he was supposed to be dating.

So many things started to make sense, like why Anthony never made her a main girl when she was the finest thing he ever shook hands with. I was about to ask more questions, like if she ever actually had an STD. (Maybe I WAS naive. I just didn't see a reason for my best friend to lie to me.) I was too overwhelmed by those first few revelations. I completely forgot my mission to find out everything.

What proceeded afterwards was a bunch of lies and misdirection. At the end of it all, I wouldn’t talk to Tammy for many years. A few months later, neither would I talk to Anthony.

After that, it was hard to trust my “friends” when it came to women. And I don’t want to hear any of it when it comes to someone (Anyone) else’s sex lives. Even when it comes to counseling, friends are encouraged to spare me the details.

The most important realization came much, much later. I listened to Babyface so much after the Kathryn episode that “For The Cool In You” (the album) still takes me back. I was listening to ‘When Can I see You Again’ and it all came back. I would usually turn Babyface off when nostalgia started coming. This time I let it come. The whole story flashed through my head and I finally got it. Tammy liked me. For the first time, I listened to Babyface for a girl I never dated…

It took years for the day to come when I got it. By then it was too late.

At the end of it all, it hurt more to lose Tammy than it did to lose Kathryn, and not because of the satellite friends. She meant a lot to me. And I never told her. I still wish it was her instead of Kathryn. 

So no, LaShawn, men don’t know when a woman is more interested in them than their friend and  we don’t want to go there out of respect for our friends, even if our friends don’t extend the same respect. It may take years if we ever do realize it. And by then, it’ll be too late.

Trying to Get The P for Free: Ode To Baby Daddies/Ex-Husbands and Shout Out to Real Fatherhood

            Despite what KRS-1 says and ALL my best efforts, the P is not free. In some way or another we all end up paying, before or after, for sex.

I’m sure we’re all familiar with what men will do to get sex, and how they change after but this is a little deeper.

What about when the for some reason or another outside of true Love, the man wants to stay? Sometimes the reason is as trivial as just wanting to back up a bunch of shit talking. In fact, most of the time the sex is not that great at all and it is the shit talking that keeps couples together.

It all begins with all the false identities we present to each other that build into the bigger promises we make in order to keep up relationships that are built on nothing. I know people whose relationships have less real talk than a couple in a Cinemax movie. That tends to be the way when people don’t want to hear the truth. The less talking, the less chance hurting one another’s feelings. In all relationships, plutonic, business, political as well as romantic, the truth is not very popular. Everyone just wants to be Politically Correct.

After centuries of these polite relationships, we’ve developed a society of dysfunctional relationships.  In short we are all a bunch of liars. We are an overly sexual society and most of us want to keep it a secret. Both the men and the women want to avoid being labeled. We all get into sexual relationships that we want to keep sexual. But the only way to keep any relationship purely sexual is to pay. As the saying goes - you don’t pay hookers for sex, you pay them to go away. But it’s a recession and as sexual as America is, no one wants to be seen as overly sexual, so we avoid hookers and situations where we could be seen as hookers.

And that begins the delicate dance of love. We want to get the P for free so we pretend to be in love. The only problem is we can’t dance. We keep making up more and more lies to keep the P free. We tell so many lies for so long that sometimes we wake up married with kids.

Here’s the bad news: Eventually, the truth always comes out. AND, eventually you always pay for the P. The longer you go without paying, the larger the bill raises. So when you finally figure out you’ve been playing yourself, you’ve got to pay.

Most of the time, the bill comes in the form of child support and, by the time that bill comes, play time is over. Another bill is called alimony. All of these “bills” come as a result of trying to avoid the prepayment for sex. I used to look down on a friend of mine who bragged about paying his wife for sex. But looking at their situation now, if they do ever make a split, it will be clean because he prepaid. They don’t have children. And his payments are documented. Worst case scenario, he’ll have to maintain his already small payments. Best case scenario, he’ll win and she’ll have to pay him.

 But let’s talk about the losers.

At some point in failed relationships, amnesia sets in. All the promises are forgotten. All the good times erased. All the lies ignored except for their use in arguments. When it comes to “Baby-Mamas”, “Baby Daddies” (I threw up a little in my mouth typing those words. I hate them so much. That’s another blog though.), Ex-Husbands and Ex-Wives it’s hard to look at them and imagine they ever loved or even tolerated each other enough to have unprotected sex once let alone a whole relationship’s worth of sex.

Dr. Laura always keeps it real. A couple may not reunite after splitting up but when children become involved, continued communication is mandatory. I didn’t realize my parents still talked till I was like twenty. They argued so much in front of me that it seemed impossible they could ever communicate rationally. I was so wrong! No wonder I couldn’t get away with any of that playing one against the other shit.

Number 8 is the biggest. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. All you are doing is just building a debt you WILL be forced to repay in one way or another. What started as lies to get the P for free can eventually lead to making false promises to children and can end up with you forking up some bail money for your stripper daughter.

The bottom line for men as well as women in relationships that doesn’t/won’t work out is to be honest to your words. Whether or not you can actually live up to the all the shit you talk in relationships, you WILL have to pay the debt one day. It may include child support, it may include alimony, it may be tuition, and you may have to raise someone else’s kid. But the most important debt you owe is to the children. And it’s not about money. It’s about time and Love. It’s about keeping your priorities in line.

When you truly make family and Love the priority, the money won’t matter. Neither parent will run from their responsibilities. And whether or not the romantic relationship works out the relationship between both parents must be maintained. Not just for the children but for fulfillment within your personal lives.

Paying what you owe is all about being true to yourself. At some point we all have to face the reality of our decisions. The sooner we do, the easier it will be to handle our responsibilities.

The P is not free. Whether it’s $1.50 for a pack of rubbers or $215,000 for college, you will pay. Even if it’s just time and the energy of dealing with each other honestly, which I say is the best value, you must pay.

It’s never too late ladies and gentlemen. No blame, no games, just start with a little honesty. And…

Pay what you owe.

What I Learned In Church 12/19/11...

12/18/11

It may take a while before I get to my actual church. I’m visiting everyone else’s churches first. This week was Metro Church Calvary Chapel. A nice church. I like them smaller. I don’t want to be anonymous in a church. The pastor was a funny little man full of Love and energy. The congregation was like a big family. Real low key vibe. Cute little church in Santa Monica. I may go back.

After that, it was Masonic St’ John’s Day at Victory Baptist Church. I went with my father. Two Words, one day. And then I finally got to chop it up with my big-big sister T. Today was truly God’s day. I’m blessed to have been active in it.

So on the way to Calvary, Brandi called herself a pessimist. I said she just wanted to stay prepared for the worst case scenario. That’s not the same as expecting the worst outcome. The details are not important but we get mixed up by them. God winning in the end means you are not a pessimist. When you believe, you become an optimist. Different people get to God in different ways. But they get to God. That is all. The details (the how) is unimportant. The how is what distracts us from God. We try to control how but that's not in our power. That power is all God. Our power leads us to choose God and he takes it from there. I think God proved my point later that night.

The focus was on the coming of Jesus. After all, he is the reason…

The scriptures came from Isaiah Chapter 7 (14-17), Chapter 9 (6-7), and Luke Chapter 2 (8-20).

The Old Testament is full of Israel getting chance after chance to get it right and choose God. Then Isaiah foretells of a coming savior in the midst of Israel’s poor decision making. Then Jesus actually came to fulfill God’s promise. Unfortunately, after a million chances, a warning and fulfillment; we still don’t choose God. We prefer to stay stuck in the past. Per Pastor Steve – The Past often has to do with fathers. We may or may not have one and he may or may not be any good. But we have the fulfillment of Jesus. He came to make us all brothers and sisters and give us an everlasting Father. The everlasting Father is here now and endures forever.

So we have a choice. We can stay in our unfulfilling pasts or we can choose the brighter present and future promised us by God through Jesus.

Jesus was born to give us second birth. That we may die no more. But we still choose to die. We don’t choose God. We choose drugs. We choose stress. We choose getting older. Instead of preparing ourselves for the next step of our eternal lives we say things like “I’m seventy-five years old” as an excuse to stop living.

The time is not for excuses. It’s time to live and never stop!

Just a little FYI:

It is a myth that Jesus was poor/came from a poor family. 2 Corinthians 8:9 He was rich. He made himself poor for us. And then he handled the misinterpretation with humility. We misinterpret being born in a manger as a sign of poverty but it's OK. It still serves God. (Some details are not important to serving God)


(St. Johns Day)

The word came from Proverbs 3:1-6, Luke 1:26-33 and Matthew 1:18.

We get focused on Stuff so much during this time that we forget Jesus was not about Stuff. He came to change us. Not to change the law, but for us to grow past our current conditions to something better.

THIS is a season of change. Let the coming of Jesus represent the fulfillment of God's prophecy. New births and youth should remind us of the fulfillment of dreams and plans to honor God's word. And the word is Love. Bless and encourage change and growth EVEN and especially if it threatens traditions. There is only one tradition worth saving, Jesus' tradition of Love.

Mary reminded Pastor of the Unmarried Pregnant Black Teenaged Girl which, by the way, is becoming rarer. According to USA Today, from 2009 to 2010 there was a 9% drop in unplanned pregnancies among 15-19 year olds. Thank God and praise His name.

A few young people still get sidetracked. They end up missing out on their education, settling for any job and anybody. Some of us got side tracked. Some of us did some sidetracking. We all “made the best of it”. We were still trapped in a life we weren’t prepared for.

If we really cared about each other, as well as ourselves, we would not want to lock each other up. We would stop using tricks to sidetrack each other.

Because we choose God, we don’t focus on the past. No blame. We just don’t do sidetracking anymore. And if we have already sidetracked/been sidetracked, we stop. We DO building. We DO choose God. We DO what Jesus would have us do. We Love.

What I Learned In Church: Prison

This is from a bible study in prison. We learned quite a bit that can be used by anyone seeking God. This is just one bit: 

“I Wanna Be Free”

It’s called an emotional heart attack. We get so overwhelmed with “The Drama” of life that we panic. It may not be as severe as a panic attack or an anxiety attack so we ignore the fact that we are acting out.

Samson had one. He was constantly turned against by his own people. It seemed like nothing he did was good enough. He could always turn to God but after a while, he got tired of not having someone human to talk to. So he turned to Delilah. I always thought she was his wife or girlfriend. But she was neither. He had a wife. And they don’t suggest that their relationship was any more than her being a shoulder to lean on. It doesn’t even seem like she set out to set him up. She just had a stronger allegiance to her people than to him. She could have been anyone. She could have been a homeboy from the other side of town. She could have been a coworker having a drink with you after work.

Today, in our lives, pressures build up and our emotions beat us up. We run to the wrong people, bad habits, old sins for help. Sometimes we find ourselves unloading ourselves on the first person who will listen without even considering who we are talking to.

Again, I must reiterate, that I’m not talking about panic attack levels. So many of us have so much baggage AND we are so used to taking the path of least resistance that one bad day at work can lead us to talking to the wrong person, firing up a cigarette after ten years, cussing, sleeping around or even just flirting with ideas you turned your back on long ago.

At the extreme, people claimed to have “Snapped”, they say they “Couldn’t Make It Anymore”. “They let me out of prison and I walked right into another one”. But that’s the extreme. You read that and say to yourself – I would notice if it gets that bad. But what about when you’re just a little bit more uncomfortable than you usually are.

In prison the stakes seem a little higher. Physical freedom is the focus. But whether or not you are in prison, - the real prison is the one inside ourselves. If we don’t get free inside ourselves, we’ll end up right back in prison or locked up on the outside

Prison is a walking cemetery, and so is “life” until we decide to change.

When we put our hope inside God’s hope, we are free. “Walketh not in the counsel of the un-Godly” (Psalms 1:1-3) The counsel of the un-Godly is not just a bunch of hoodlums on the corner. The counsel of the un-Godly is anything you turn to to relieve stress that is not God.

It’s easy if the un-Godly things in your life are people. CUT THEM LOOSE! Forgive them and let them go! …or the other way around if the situation requires.

But when they are things, we tend to let them become Delilah and weasel their way into a prominent position in our lives. It’s not always the hard stuff. It’s TV. It’s playing golf. It’s Facebook. It’s whatever we do to avoid dealing with ourselves and instead of seeking God.

And I’m not saying they are bad. I sure as hell ain’t getting off Facebook. It’s just being careful to not replace God with distractions. In ALL things, we should seek God. It’s sad to allow ourselves to be distracted by anything. And it’s potentially destructive to put anything in a Delilah position in your life. Most times God is available right inside our ordinary lives. We just don’t seek Him. When we look at our average everyday life we don’t see God. We see a rut.

Seeking God is an exercise (and I use that word exercise on purpose) in endurance. It is believing long after we got tired of believing. It’s holding on to our marriages. It’s staying focused on our real brothers and sisters. Staying vigilant lasts a little longer than a staring contest.

Hang in there, even if you get sidetracked. (Ephesians 2:1-5 ) There is a promise. (Genesis 22:16) God wins in the end.

Step 8

I may never fully submit to the rules of AA but they are on to something. Their system of recovery and support is a marvel of simplicity. Like many, many religions, for others, it works. Why ask why? No need to rock the boat. And they are not at all pushy about it. Got to love an ideology that’s not all up in your face.

I have my own higher power and he led me to a freedom similar, if not greater, to that found with AA. I can never give up power to any earthly thing. That only put me at odds with Step one. Then I read A Hunger For Healing. Let’s just say I can’t live in the flesh anymore so I submit to my higher power. In fact, within my own spiritual journey, I am working all the steps. Plus I’m writing a book. (Plug!)

Right now, I want to focus on steps eight, nine and twelve. I’ve been thinking about the people I’ve hurt.

One in particular, stands out. Twice, my actions have caused great hurt to my friend in a way I vowed never to do very early in our relationship. Only now do I realize the devastating harm I have caused by going back on my word. After all this time I pray my friend can forgive me and allow me to make amends.

As a result of my new awakening, I must share with others so they can avoid situations like this. And if they have been in situations like this, hopefully they can make amends. Likewise, I am doing this in order to make my own amends with all parties involved. If I am lucky, they will allow me to do so.



The following is background and apology…



It was fall of 2000 or spring 2001. My mojo was blazing. I was in New Orleans. Part time student, full time party animal. The House was off the chain. The rules were simple. You cross the threshold, you have a shot. Tuesday, Sunday, Wednesday, Day or Night, studying or time for work, it didn’t matter. You obey the rules. The House even had a room specifically designated for fucking. It was called – wait for it…

The Fuck Room! The Fuck Room had it’s rules posted on the door.

This was my life. School became what I did between the last party and the next.

One day I decided to go to a poetry reading. I wrote poetry. I wanted to assess the quality of my fellow poets.

That night I fell in lust. A goddess approached the mic. I had seen her before. She was an earth chick, somewhere between Erykah Badu and Jill Scott but finer. Her long flowing skirts, head wraps and beautiful face was enough. Then she spoke. Her voice was poetic, lyrical, sultry, southern, rhythmic and just lovely. Her words were deep, sexy, intensely sexual, spiritual and moving. And her name was –


-Lovely.
I had to have her.

I quickly did my stalking AKA info-gathering thing. It was serendipity. She was friends with a friend of mine. My friend knew me and how I rolled. And my friend was cool. I knew she would hook it up.

One day after Lovely had just walked away from my friend. I hurried to my friend and delivered my now classic line. I cannot share the line. It is too powerful and dangerous in the wrong hands. All I can say is that, most of the time, it works all the time.

Two days later. I got a call from Lovely. The line worked. It’s a conversation piece so we conversated. I was charming in my most Sinatra-ish way, martini glass in hand and all. RIP killer!

She was a real winner. While I was having my way with words, she was enchanting me further. I talked some shit. She backed it up and then some! She had to come to The House – ‘mmediately! Right now! I mean then. (Now that I’m writing this, and remembering things, I mean now too! Right now!)

She came – straight to my room. I had to see what she was talking about. I saw. Wow! Goddess! Soft, Wet, Firm, I can’t say more. Everything was perfect.



Except me.



Let’s just say I had crossed the threshold of The House (see above) quite a few times that day. While it had never been a problem before, I would find soon out just how much of a problem it could be. Very soon.

It was over before it started. For me. For real over! There was nothing poetic, sexy, sultry or rhythmic about it. My pump number was broken. Badly. It was devastating. I would have been demoralized then if she hadn’t given me another shot. (As bas as it was, I needed fifty more shots) She gave me one. She would be back. I went to the kitchen and crossed the threshold one more time (or three).

I was re-demoralized. She came back. She saw The Fuck Room sign. It was another conversation piece. We talked. I touched. We were ready. I was done.

That made TWICE! TWICE! I was in my early twenties and already I had broken my promise. Devastatingly so. I let a goddess walk into and out of my life WAY too quickly. WAYYYY too quickly. SMH

I just drank it off. It may not have happened ever again. (What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas) but this…

This was just too premature. I never thought anything like this would happen this early. I just hope it’s not too late to apologize.

I would like to apologize to for breaking my promise. I said it would never happen and I did it to you twice. It was all my fault. My debauchery caused you to suffer. For that I am truly sorry. If you allow me and if I still have my way with words I will make amends.

I am sober. I am stronger. I got my sexy back. The only thing left is to officially say – Penis, I apologize from the bottom of my heart for gving you The Drunk Dick.



If you and all parties involved are willing, I am totally prepared to make amends…




Macbeth Act 2 Scene 3 “Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance: therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.”

[Drunk Dick is serious (not as serious as Drunk Pussy) If you or anyone you know suffers from Drunk Dick immediately admit your shortcomings. Repent, seek forgiveness and do your best to make amends as soon as possible. The sooner the better.]

This is in no way endorsed by AA. I respect AA and all the work it’s done. Alcoholism is serious. If you are over 30 and still partying like a rock star (Charlie Sheen), get help. AA may be the place for you. They’re ready when you are.

STEP 8 – DRUNK DICK

Chasing The P: Monique

Chasing The P: Monique

            Chasing the P (sex) has led me on some A LOT A TON of adventures. A TON. The adventures of Marcus and I alone could fill a book. A TOME! But the more interesting stories are the ones that led me to unexpected places. The stories within a story are the ones I like most. And there is one in particular.

            I’ll share it now

Monique

It was 2003. I had just gotten back to Los Angeles from New Orleans. That party was NOT over! My boy Seth was promoting. I was there. Seth and I had been clubbing free for years, since 1996. That’s another story. Focus!

The crew that night was Seth, Greg, Kevin and I. Seth was always the DD back then. We all piled in Greg’s dually wheeled Chevy. The place was Sky Sushi aka Hoodrat Heaven. Loose women galore! That night was special. Someone important in Baldhead Productions had died. We were toasting Billy Jack all night.

Kevin had just turned 21 so he was still a lightweight. A month earlier I had gotten him so drunk, he threw up on his brand new Jordans, which were still inside a shoebox at the time. I intended on keeping an eye on him. We go hard but we don’t do throw up.

I ended up chasing Kevin from bar to bar cutting him off. He’d been on Adios Motherfuckers two at a time all night. I was just waiting on him to fall down any moment anyway. It was time to hunt P anyway He found one last bar in VIP. He juked me and made his way towards the bar cutting across the dance floor. Kevin (Little Kevin, there was no big Kevin) is at least a foot smaller than me and very slim. He swam through the crowded dance floor like a snake through water. I on the other hand ended up running smack dab into a girl who immediately started grinding on me. I checked my watch. It was indeed time for the P. I said forget Kevin. “Let me see what’s up with the P” The way she was dancing said I might salvage something out of the night.I cupped a cheek and it was all systems go!

I did the obligatory name check. I was Jason. She was slurring or it was too loud to catch, so I invited her to the couches on the balcony so we could talk. Also, the light was better. I wanted to see what I was working with. I took a step to lead her in that direction and immediately realized I had been holding her up the whole time. She dropped STRAIGHT to the floor. STRAIGHT DOWN! In all my years of drinking and seeing people fall down, no one fell that quickly or directly to the ground.

If only the panties dropped that quick… only the panties! She dropped with the panties still on.

“Oh shit! This bitch done died!”

I picked her up quickly so no one would think I killed her. I carried her to the same couches where I intended to make my move. Instead of sitting down with her and instigating the stimulating conversation I’m known for, I plopped her ‘dead’ body across the corner of the couch. I hoped to be able to prop her up in the corner.

I got her name out of her. Not one the most coherent conversations. IT took quite a while for just a name. I couldn’t get a friends name. Someone had to rescue me from this. I didn’t drive. I could barely get her name. How would I find out where she lived even if I could get her home. So I went to the DJ for help. He gave her a shout out for her friends. No one responded. Panic started to set in. The club was closing and this girls was lost. She couldn’t come with us. I was on a P mission and my mom told me not to try drunk girls. She said they would just throw up on me. And, as hardheaded as I am, I had already learned on my own by this time.

She saved herself from being left on the couch by saying she remembered where her car was parked. Thank God. I would have to carry her down the loooonnnnng stairs and two blacks around the corner. Did I mention the loooonnnnnng escalators the only way in and out AND they were turned off? I passed Seth on the way out.

“Come on! We been looking for you. We’re out of here.”

“Just give me a minute to walk her to her car.”

“Fuck that drunk bitch. We’re leaving you.”

“Leave then. Fuck it. I’ll walk!”

The car was not that far. Luckily her friends showed up just as we did. Her purse was safe. I was a hero. A bunch of thank yous from the friends. I turned red. But I had to go catch Seth and Greg.

I didn’t have to go too far to get to where the Dually was parked. Unfortunately, they were gone. I called Greg. I could barely hear him over the noise. They were at another party or Jerry’s (it turned out to be Jerry’s).

“Tell old girl to drop you here”

“I already left them. Don’t trip”

I walked.

Fatigue had set in. I had a weird, wild, looong night. I was on Fairfax and Santa Monica. It was nearly a straight shot home. Unfortunately, Los Angeles is not a 24 hour city. The busses had just stopped running. Cabs don’t come to cell phones. I had no address to tell them. So I walked.

The initial plan was to walk to an address. But leaving from the more conservative edge of West Hollywood, going through the Yiddish part of town to my side of town at three in the morning, no such luck.

It was nine miles. It took two hours. I started out mad. But by the time I got home I was good. I did a good thing. I did tell my boys to leave me. I was non the owrse. I crashed out.

That was just the intro. This story ain’t over.

Six months later, I had moved out and got a house with Greg. Pure bachelor pad. We each had waterbeds. (So throwback) The kitchen had a bar in it. The living room had a pool table. Focus.

One night Greg and I went out with my Immaculate Heart’s home girls. (another book). We stopped at someone’s apartment to meet up. A girl was there I’d never seen before. I had action! It was a satellite friend. Not wanting to be obvious I went into sniper mode. Maybe I could pick her off while no one was looking. She was slim. I was into that at the time. And then, like Rich Boy, God threw some Ds on that girl! Whew! I had to have her.

She started complaining about her boyfriend. Same story. He ain’t shit. She don’t know why she puts up with his bitch assedness. He wants to live together but ain’t got no job. Blah Blah Blah…

I wanted to say - Stop complaining. You either like him or you don’t. He either ain’t shit or he is. I was tired of girls saying what they want and choosing the opposite. Dump him or shut up.

It was time to drink.

In fact, Shallona did say that. She stopped talking about him after that. We just went out and had fun. Greg and I ended up riding with Shallona and her. They dropped Greg and I home. We dropped cards on them. Greg and I were players.

I ended up getting a call from Monique a day or two later. Greg left something in her car. She’d be happy to bring it over. Greg was gone. I was home alone. Monique came. (wink) I invited her to stay a while and chill. She agreed. We played cards and talked.

She was a teacher. Teachers are hot. She lived with her parents in Pasadena. I was right off the 110. She didn’t have anything to do that Saturday. Her boyfriend played basketball in a grown up park league. She didn’t like to go there. She felt like he was cheating on her with some of the girls there. The girls liked to get in her face. I’m sure he was. The girls were just rubbing it in her face. I can spot a cheater halfway around the world.

I offered her a drink. She said she didn’t drink much. She had a wild experience at a club. My ears perked up! I like drunk stories. And maybe there was a freak underneath. So I asked. She just said she drank too much and didn’t remember how she got home. Apparently her homeboy had died and they were in funeral mode AKA a lot of liquor. I’d been there. Maybe she needed to talk and I could get her to open up the freak. So we talked. I finally asked who died.

“Billy-Jack”

“Billy-Jack?”

“Were yall at Sky Sushi?”

“Yes”

“I walked home from there that same night”

“Really? You were there?”

“Yeah I helped a girl to her car and lost my ride.”

I told he all about that night. I started with little Kevin and as I was telling her about the girl, we both realized she was the girl. She filled in her part.

She had staggered out of VIP where the liquor was REALLY flowing. She didn’t remember what she drank only that there were lots of glasses of it. She had asked her girlfriend who I was. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my cards back then. Her friend had to tell her about me. Homegirl made me sound like a knight in shining armor.

I looked into her eyes. I had her. One problem. I didn’t do girlfriends. She didn’t do casual. I understood. Into the entourage she’d go.

It meant we’d be friends. We liked each other. Things just wouldn’t work. Carl Thomas was in order. Then I had a mission to steal her from her boyfriend without committing to anything. 5 years later, Dream sung the song and I felt nostalgia for Monique.

We really started hanging out. She told me all about Jesse. I listened. She met Jesse two weeks after the Sky Sushi episode. He pushed up on her tough. She fell for it. Her parents didn’t like him. His mother thought she was too good for him. I thought so too.

She told Jesse the Sky Sushi story including the update about us running into each other and hanging out. Jesse didn’t like that. They fought about her coming over. I guess she won. She still came over.

She wanted us to all hang out. I guess she wanted me to see what she saw in him. Or maybe, I was supposed to rub off on him. The ambition. The independence. Then she’d have it all. It didn’t work

She was afraid of Jesse. I began to think there was violence in their relationship. That got my blood boiling. I don’t do hitting women. Later, I realized he just played her like a violin. He was all talk. She was more afraid of the confrontation that would arise if she stood up for herself and left him. All the jaw jacking that would ensue. Sometimes people would rather a physical fight over being talked at.

Karen invited Greg and I to a hotel party with Monique and Jesse. Finally, I’d get to see him. I’d get to see the loser in person. On the way, Karen told us our names were Sean and Chris. Karen and Monique didn’t want any trouble. Whatever! I just wanted to see this loser up close.

The hotel was what I expected. A motel. The kind of place without a lobby, concierge or room service. The party was a gathering. That’s all that would fit anyway. There were only a couple of friends. Monique and Karen were the only girls. Being that Jesse lived with his mom, apparently, he and his friends just needed a place to smoke weed and chill. It was a sad scene

Greg and I came to drink. We drank what little they had. I may have had to hit my flask. Sitting there was excruciating. Monique couldn’t talk to me. We had good conversations. Karen was sticking to Greg and me. Jesse was smoking with his boys. Monique was left all alone. We were ready to leave quickly. We played it off for a while. We didn’t want to leave Monique. I didn’t want to leave her. Karen checked on her before we left. She was good. That was the life she chose.

Liberating a woman completely is a tough task. Any fool can convince a woman who’s into relationships to switch. What I was trying to do was get Monique to stand on her own. It was a test of endurance and patience. And if some P fell my way in the midst, that was good too! It took all of my focus. Any wrong step could damage her for life. I must admit that I damaged a few women with my rash choices. I wanted to be different so I did this different.

I almost had her. Day by day. Inch by inch. Drink by drink. I built her confidences up. Slowly she let her guard down. I was one step away from liberation when I gave up.

In the end, I chickened out. I was moving to Vegas soon so I let her off the hook. I can say why I really let her off the hook.

Monique was a woman who could be perfectly happy in the stability of a bad relationship. Who was I to change that? Maybe all the knight in shining armor talk went to my head. I chase P. End of story.

Jesse won. They’re married with a child now. She definitely ain’t going nowhere. He knows that. They have a regular L.A. working class life. They’re content.

My dad said he learned something from every woman he ever dated. I’d like that to be true for me too. I can’t say I dated Monique but we spent enough time together for me to learn something. (And she is a teacher)

I guess she showed me what kind of man I was. What I was capable of and what I would actually do. I loved her. She just wasn’t for me.

If I hadn’t let Monique off the hook, I’d have won. But what would I have won? I’d have let Monique be my girlfriend for as long as it took for the lie to catch us. I would have messed up, possibly damaging her irreparably.

At least this way, she can just be herself. God willing, she got enough confidence and independence from me make it work. Who knows? Time will tell…

You Know

New poems are rare for me but sometimes I am moved as I was with this memory of ...

You know who you are
I had you
And I almost had you
But there was too much on my brain
I wanted to keep you
Then I couldn't keep you
When would I ever see you again
I loved you
But I never loved you
It was all just too much
I felt I knew you
Yet I never knew you
Just the tenderest touch
I should have kissed you
And I shouldn't have kissed you
Maybe know I wouldn't miss you
I should have came through
When I couldn't come through
Maybe both our dreams could have come true
I still want you
And I just want you
Give me everything I need
When I plant a seed
I won't plant my seed
I'll just give you all that you'll ever need
It's like you're there
But when you're not there
Why can't you always be here
I just want to tell you
What I don't want to tell you
Somehow I just want you to hear
Please go
Please don't go
Always stay within my reach
I want to hold you
Like I never held you
Feel you like I never felt you
And teach you what you mean to me
I don't know what the future holds
I just know future holds
Like in each others arms
For as long as we both shall be

Church Sex

Church Sex

Church is the new speed dating. Church is better than Tagged, It’s better than Eharmony, It’s better than the club, And dare I say, it’s better than FB. And there IS sex. Lots of hot steamy sex.

I’m not exactly sure how it works but it does. Isn’t that the way church is anyway? No details. Just go and let the spirit move you. Remain open. Stay cool calm and patient. And let the blessings just rain down on you.
You don’t have to dress up, just come as you are. You don’t even need a job or money. You don’t really need to have your shit together at all. Church people like to fix other people.
But there is no faking church. No jumping up and running into the first church on your block. NO parking lot pimping in front of church. The key to church dating is honesty. There is no talking about sex specifically but in all other areas complete honesty and full disclosure are required at all times.
That means you must practice your actual religion. If you aren’t looking to get married, you must say so. Your church will provide people with loose dating morals for you. You must find a church that fits your needs. Once you have found that right fit, join something in the church and let the dating begin.
Just remember, no naked-dicking!

Word Of The Day - Virgin

Word Of The Day
Virgin

Every one knows the standard definition of virgin. But the is also an expansion on that definition. Because of this definition it is vital to share. The American Heritage defines virgins as: 1. A person who has not experienced sexual intercourse. (There are variations but we will focus on this one.)

Sexual intercourse or sex is the ultimate intimate experience. In the past few decades, sex has become increasingly casual. From exploration to playing hide and go get it to running trains to little kids having dick sucking parties (Its real, I saw it on Oprah), these children grow up into adults who don’t value sex as the experience that it is. In increasing number, we are encountering adults who have missed out on the essence of sex. These people have sexual experience but they haven’t experienced sex. They are virgins.
Because they haven’t experienced sex, virgins have no sexual identity. Virgins may have had sex but they aren’t sexual people. They aren’t sexpots, studs, sluts, whores, slores, sexy, hoes, prudes, stiff, cold fish or anything sexual. (Well maybe there are a few hoes in there…) Sadly, these women (and men) have largely never experienced orgasms or even the essential intimacy that is included in the sexual experience. SMH
Shout out to the brilliant explorer who discovered this expanded definition. I know people are increasingly private, so I won’t name names unless they are volunteered. (Or unless they deserve it!) I could write volumes on virgins but this was only a prelude to another train of thought. And with that:


The Virgin Curse

The virgin has been a prize since the days when we were all virgins. Oddly, the virgin was not the prize most of us sought. Even in college, when virgins were all stacked up and ready for the slaughter, my sexual A.D.D. didn’t allow me to focus on the prize of all prizes. I (I stole it and I don’t know that “the originator” wants to be associated with this) even took to expanding the term. [see above] I passed by quite a few prizes in my life simply because I didn’t have the time. It occurred to me now that I had time to reflect. No regrets but I do wonder about a new phenomenon known as The Virgin Curse.
In my reflections, I notice that those who did have time (to chase virgins) turned out to be not so nice. The results…MAJOR damage.
The damage done to any woman scorned is major. The damage done to a virgin…MAJOR.
I have been remembering some of the “virgins” I’ve encountered in my life. Up to twenty years later, ”the ghosts of conquests past” have some stories to tell. But that’s not what this is about. This is about fulfillment.
The others took a lot. They took your innocence. They took your time. They took your hearts. And they left you. They left you all alone. They left you with children. They left you burned, scorned, used and abused. You are all definitely different now.
I wondered about a “virgin curse”. I asked myself if I had to pay for the sins of others. For passing you by and passing you on to charlatans. At one time I placed you so high up on a pedestal, I thought you were out of my reach. Others came and knocked you down. Knocked you down and knocked you up. Knocked you around. But you got back up.
So I will fulfill. Because you’re still here. I still can’t have you, my virgins. Maybe I was never meant to. I never had to fix you. Because you’re still you. I was just sent to remind you. After all these years. After all the tears. You’re still here. Pedestal and all! I you need a boost to get back up there…just call.

Gaydar

[When I say gay, I don't mean it in a good way. I mean it in the most Eminem, South Park, Boondocks way I can!]

Jacquelyn NeCole asked the question - *Question to the fellas* Does a straight man hang with gay/bi-sexual guys? If they do does that make them suspect... hmmm?

I knew immediately what she wanted. She wanted another way to detect homosexuality in a man. This Down Low shit has a ton of women AND men nervous. The Gaydar is up all over the world.

The Down Low is the epitome of sexual dishonesty AKA Lying-On-Your-Dick/Pussy. With the prevalence of STDs, the most dangerous of them being “Butt-Juice-Pussy”, people need full disclosure when it comes to sex and being safe. There is no room for confusion or flat out lying. Sex without trust is so horrible; I would just rather not have sex. And I like sex. I like it A LOT. A LOT.

A WHOLE LOT!!!

But,

I am deathly afraid of Butt-Juice-Pussies! But-Juice-Pussy (BJP) is a condition that occurs when a woman dates a Down Low man inside a committed relationship or inside any relationship where Naked-Dicking occurs. Naked Dicking is already dangerous. But add secret sex to the mix and we are talking about juggling grenades with no pins in them.

With all of this in mind, it is VITAL that women and men, straight or gay, be able to spot liars in their midst. I wish I knew EVERY sure sign that a man is on the Down Low. I would tell. I would spend my last dollar publishing and distributing the book along with a list of notable Down Low men, for free! Honest people deserve to know when they are being tricked.

According to Sanyika – “You live in Atlanta, everybody is gay!” But this is not about judging people. I don’t judge. I really could care less about what anyone does in his or her bedroom. This is about keeping honest men and women safe from the dishonest.


So here’s what I know. Maybe it will help women and men remain safe in their relationships and avoid any BJP. (Of course, that’s assuming they don’t want any BJP!)

The gay friends I have are all out of the closet. I don’t like to talk about sex with anyone. I was raised to believe that those who talk about it aren’t doing it. So, like ALL of my friends, I’m a friend with gay people not because of whom they sleep with. Personally, some of the dating choices my straight friends make are pretty disgusting. SICK! (That’s a whole other blog.)


If any one of my “straight” friends turned out to be gay, I would have an issue. The issue wouldn’t be their sexuality but the dishonesty. I have stopped being cool and/or trusting a lot of friends for lying on their dicks. If we are friends, the foundation of that is trust. If I can’t trust you, we can’t be friends.


I do suspect a few acquaintances. The fact is the down low is real. Statistically speaking, with all the people I know, a few of those people are in the closet. The truth is, most of the people I suspect would surprise the HELL out of most females.


It is YOU! That’s right. You are reading this and wondering if I know. I DO! See! You just proved it. SMH. So sad. Just give it up. Come out the closet now and no one will get hurt. The longer you drag this out, the worse it will be when I finally REALLY put you on blast.


I have proof. It’s just not time yet to put people on blast.



You probably have BJP. I just chose not to tell you because you got on my nerves today. Good luck with that shit. (And there actually is fecal matter in your P. SMH)


I’ve been to a gay club. In fact, you DO have BJP! Your dude was there. WITH A MAN!


I don’t fuck for an audience. I don’t lie on my dick. I don’t talk about my dick. I don’t take pictures of my dick. I believe anyone who does is not just suspect. Niggah you gay!


Secret anything between couples is suspect. Friends you’ve never met, a secret family, a secret job, secret habits, secret anything is SO VERY suspect.


Machismo is suspect, especially around other men. The louder you are about homophobia, your dick, or sex in general; the more suspect you are. Why do I give a shit about any of that? I’m not going gay bashing with you. That shit is a terrorist act. I have absolutely no interest in the horrible looking women you choose to sleep with. I don’t want to watch porn with you because there are no women around. NO WOMEN = Niggah…You…Gay!


To answer Jacquelyn’s question directly, being suspect is not about being cool with gay/bisexual people. It’s suspect if dudes are too cool with other dudes. I know men who have fraternal ties with other men. They are supposed to be really close. They aren’t overly close though. Suspect dudes have “best friends” who are as close as girls are. Men don’t change clothes around each other. The one exception is a sports locker room. (Not the LA Fitness locker room! SMH) Real sports. Professional sports. Men don’t hold hands or get drunk and sleep in the same bed. (Head to feet past 16 is not cool)




Please also understand that nothing is exact. Especially this. There are variables. For instance, in the South, men are more effeminate. That means women have to look past the superficial and find patterns. My views may also be slanted. I have a father and we get along quite well. So I don’t have a lack of male bonding to fill. So I am more hesitant to be up in any other man’s face no matter how well we get a long. But I also have sister who I am close to. So I’ve seen Grease a million and five times, and the Bodyguard, and Beaches, and Tommy. AND I actually like romantic comedies. Now if a man said that who didn’t have sisters or REALLY close female relatives, …SUSPECT.
The bottom line is - be careful. But don’t let stereotypes lead you. PLEASE don’t let your friends’ experiences affect your judgment. Let everything be what it is and see everything AS IT IS. You be upfront with your mate at all times. It’ll be hard for anyone to trick you if you are REALLY keeping in 100 (RAY J!)

Also, not reading the whole blog (I know it's long Sanyika!) is gay!

Conspiracy Theories

Maisha Perkins set it off with this one.

Two things have been troubling me this week. One was The Tavis Smiley and Al Sharpton disagreement. The other was this Black Abortion/Genocide debate. In some kind of way, I think the two are connected.

Let me begin by saying these are two of the most ridiculous things I have heard in a long while. At least since niggers were scared to vote for Obama because they believed he would be assassinated.

I heard about the abortion thing first but I ignored it. So let me do the same now and talk about Al Sharpton. I don’t agree with Al Sharpton all the time. Obviously! His eulogy for the N word led me to call people niggers more than ever. I dig Tavis Smiley and I REALLY dig Cornell West. But I was actually reversed in this situation. We don’t need to be calling each other out for trivial issues like who called whom and who didn’t.

AND we need to get off Obama’s dick. (I know I’m vulgar but I’m that serious about it.) We got Tavis Smiley and Cornell West (Sorry Dr. West) accusing the Obama administration of being politicians. WTF! Is anyone in the government NOT a politician?
Didn’t he wild out enough? Let’s not forget the past two term presidents all save the MAJOR wilding out for the last term.

We’re so wishy washy, all this jaw jacking could lead to Obama only serving one term. The BEST politician Washington has seen in decades and WE could fuck it all up. SMH. Do we have to complain that much? Do we really NEED to complain this much?

And now, we’re letting conservatives stir us up into believing someone wants to kill our babies. SMH. (did I just shake my head two paragraphs in a row?)

Birth control is everything from abstinence to condoms to the pills to abortion. Conservatives don’t think so but we live in America. Church and State remain separate for a reason. Everyone should know how I feel about naked-dickin (if you don’t please read). I can’t pretend it doesn’t happen though. Like I be trying to tell Al Sharpton, just because you don’t say a word doesn’t mean niggers and naked-dickers don’t exist!

I’ve lived in three chocolate-cities. In all three, the rate of teenage pregnancy and STDs are ridiculously high. In all three, I have witnessed an over abundance of birth control. From cases (CASES) of rubbers in the projects in New Orleans (I didn’t even have to buy rubbers. I just went to the projects and picked up a case.) to barrels (BARRELS) of rubbers on the streets of Atlanta. And still naked-dickers choose to risk disease and pregnancy.

I remember begging (PLEADING with) a young man in New Orleans to wear a rubber to no avail. I also remember the same night a young woman insisting that I naked dick her. As beautiful as she was, all I saw was the promise she was throwing down the drain on momentary pleasure.

Before I get off too deep on Naked-Dickers let me just sum up. These are the cases we are dealing with. This is not genocide. (I beg people to watch – Idiocracy) If anything, capitalism would promote naked dicking. I would. As a business owner, I need cheap labor. Since slavery is over and Hispanics are starting their own businesses, niggers and naked-dickers seem the best candidates.

“You can’t afford this child you are about to have? Poor baby.” “Don’t worry! We’ll keep him for you in foster care. Then we’ll hold him in prison for a few years. And by the time he’s out and has given up his hip-hop dreams, I’ll hire him. He’ll be perfect! Prison will have him up early all time. And at 35, he’ll be broke down enough to take WHATEVER I choose to pay him.” Can we say Win-Win?

It’s all about options. Adoption isn’t really an option for Black children. It's simple supply and demand. Black children don't get adopted. There is a high demand for white children. As Dana (On Mai Perkin’s Page) said, if we increased the demand for Black children in adoption, then abortion wouldn't be the primary option for unplanned pregnancies.

I’m all about being positive and being a math major I know that sometimes the most positive thing is the least negative. In some cases, abortion is the least negative. Contrasted against a life of poverty, never having existed is a much better option. And, remember, we are talking about the point when prospective parents decide they can’t afford a child.

The conspiracy is simple. Capitalists should and probably would support naked-dickin. Pro-Lifers are crazy! They will do anything. They blow up buildings like terrorists. And now they want to use Black people.

Despite this alleged recession, America is in good shape. Black America is in great shape. (We’ve been recession proof since forever!) Let’s not be distracted by finger pointing and conspiracy theories. There are still some miserable people around. We all know misery loves company and depressed people spend money. (It’s always about the money) Let’s keep our focus. Our communities and our nation have a bright future.

Shame on anyone who says otherwise!

Word of The Day - Dick Control and Naked Dicker

I thought so.I honor of August 22, 2007. And as retribution for my incessant use of the "N" word. I have two new Words Of The Day.

Word Of The Day 1

Dick-Control

Dick-Control is easy to explain. It only has about three percent to do with sex. Dick-Control (which can also be called Pussy-Control for the P.C.[but fuck Pussies!]) is all about self control. The sexual reference explains it all and it stops there and continues in your everyday life. Sexually, it takes practice and patience to truly have dick-control. In life, it takes the same. Unfortunately, many people try to have dick control in bed and never apply the same principles in life. The result is a truly tumultuous life. In niggah talk, we runnin around with big dicks and cain't fuck.
I noticed the parallel after listening to a slew of niggahs talking about fucking all the time. But not really having any control over the important aspects of their lives. When I really listened though, I noticed these dudes didn't actually have any dick control. I mean, at no time talking with these guys do they ever seem in control. The option of not fucking is not available for them. Standards do not exist. They live by no rules or codes. It was then I realized what Dick-Control really was. Think about people we view as non-sexual who are extremely successful. We may say - Fuck that! I got to get mine. But is that (Sex, morons) what we really want. How often do you put your goals on hold for temporary pleasures? The answer to that is what Dick-Control is all about.Practice tantra. Learn your self. Become master of your domain. And lead your life in the direction YOU choose. Good luck bitches!

Word Of The Day 2
Naked-Dickers

This is the new "N" word. Since, as I've noticed these past few days, niggahs have not gone away at all. To the contrary, niggahs are thriving. Someone is seeing fit actually give niggahs money and put them on pedestals (slave blocks) as role models for the youth. It is to the point where niggahs and niggardom is going beyond race, region, sexual orientation, religion, and even class. So we still need a word to verbalize the existence (most time in frustration) of these collective low lifes. That word is Naked-Dicker.
A naked-dicker is derivative of the verb Naked-Dickin which is the act of having sex with a bare dick and pussy. Naked-Dickin is practiced exclusively by unmarried couples (or married people having sex with people they are not married too[sinners]). You can be a naked-dicker by naked-dickin but just like niggardom, naked-dickers have grown to include virgins, sexual and non-sexual people as well as already being spread across classes, races and social standings. Naked-Dickers are modern day niggers.
Just like niggahs, their attitude and behavior show no class, no restraint, no responsibility, no childcare, no planning, and most importantly, no rubbers. Since the entertainment industry, drug trade, real estate and McDonald's are making niggahs rich, we wonder who it is draining our tax dollars, besides George Bush. It is naked-dickers.
Naked-Dickers have kids they can't afford, call them miracles and ask us to support their unplanned families. Or they expect to be rewarded for taking care of responsibilities they bring upon themselves. Let's give Johnny a paid vacation (although he is constantly late to work after just starting two days ago) because he is struggling to take care of the three kids and five babie's-mamas (and doing a mediocre job at that). Yay for Johnny! He's an OK baby-daddy! Let's have a parade for OK baby-daddies! And let's give Tasha a pardon for stealing diapers for her six kids who are all the same age and have (According to Maury Povich) 14 fathers. While we're at it lets give her hella food stamps and a gang of money.
Today, naked-dickers are taking it so far beyond the kids! Naked-Dickers are not responsible for anything they do. If they didn't go to school and do their homework the way they should, who are you to give them a hard time for not being able to read. How dare you be afraid to hire a felon! He/she wouldn't have a record if it wasn't for snitches. Speaking of which, Naked-Dickers are behind that ridiculous Stop-Snitching campaign as well as all those dumb-assed T-shirts that announce proudly - I sell drugs.

Sound's like niggahs to me! So there you have it. Naked-Dickers in all there pitiful splendor.

Word of The Day - Naked-Dickin

Naked Dickin

The word is quite literal. It refers to having sex without any form of birth control. The dick is naked people! Hence, the term Naked Dickin. I can (AND WILL) go on and on about Naked Dickers. (People who recklessly have Naked Dick sex) That's another time and another word.

The Naked-Dick Chronicles

(Another Re-Post) This is one of my favorite words. One day I will repost the full definition of the word. [Or you can check it out here:  In the meantime...



Michael Baisden, Dr. Eric Michael Dyson, and Rev. Al Sharpton (or the lady who filled in for him) all talked about being single, dating outside your race, and the pressure of Valentines day. People gave all kinds of reasons why there was pressure to get married, date inside or out of the race and/or get a date for Valentines day. Everything from Willie Lynch (no really-Willie Lynch) to OJ (not really) to "over-education" to standards too high or too low. Over nine hours, only one person mentioned probably the most important quality in looking for a mate. Patience…

Why can't we wait? Naked dickers can't wait for rubbers. Serial daters can't wait for that right person. And we all end up hopping from person to person. Hoping, longing for someone, anyone. But we can't wait for THE one.

Do we really believe that it'll be that easy to find one person in 300,000,000 people in this country and 7 billion in this world? Do I need to add settling as an addictive behavior? Maybe we need a rehab for settlers. If the world was filled with more patient people, many of us wouldn't be here. I'd be willing to sacrifice myself for the sake of us all getting it right. (Yes, that's right. As a child of divorce I too am the result of two impatient naked dickers) It's rampant people!

70% of African American women have children out of wedlock. 50% of African Americans have herpes.

People.

There is just too much naked-dickin going on! Are you that pressed? I know its good. And yes, it definitely feels better. But where is the self control? Where is the vision? Or better yet, where is the commitment to our own dreams? Are we supposed to accept this as unchanging fact?

Sex is like any other vice. Like gambling, certain lesser drugs, drinking or whatever you may be into, it's not for everyone. Some people don't have the self control to to participate in these acts. Gambling addicts don't gamble, drug addicts and alcoholics admit they are powerless and struggle to quit. Some do it by choice. Some are court ordered. Naked dickin should be considered in the same breath as gambling addicts, alcoholics and druggies. Perhaps, we should court order the naked dickers to enter sex rehab. Admit they have no control over the pussy or dick. Submit to the higher power (Wilt Chamberlain) And quit having sex.

Naked dickin is for married people. Like Casinos are for old people. (Vegas is for the young and rich but all the rest goes to the retired.) Like drinking is for the grown and sexy.

I sense as you all are reading this, there is someone out there who feels like this is them. If you feel like this is you. You feel like a rampant naked dicker. It's not too late! Submit yourself. Come to the front of the church. The ministers will lay hands on you and pray for your privates. Be born again in the Magnum spirit. Wilt Chamberlain is looking down on you and he wants to heal your privates. 
Come on down and join us!

Let us pray…