Category Archives: From Me to You

The Associated Press is reporting that the families of the victims of the recent massacre by an American soldier were given $50,000 for each family member that was lost and $11,000 for each that was wounded.

How much is your brother worth?

Not the pothead one with the lazy eye that dropped out of high school after he knocked up the cafeteria lady with the 5 o’clock shadow that started at 2 o’clock?  Not that brother…

The other brother, the good one.

The one who would have met and married an amazing woman.  They’d have created beautiful children:  bright, happy, healthy.  Eventually, your brother and his family would have…maybe traveled the world with Doctors Without Borders providing care and hope to poor families in third world countries.  After years of service, they would have returned to the US in time for their oldest child to attend…let’s say Harvard University.

One by one, your brother would have sent his children out into the world fully equipped with all of the love, faith and education they needed to be well-balanced productive adults.  Your brother would have done his job well.  And you would have been there through it all.  Front and center, ringside seat.

What’s that worth?  Even if he had only lived 50 years that’s $1,000 per year, $83 per month, $2.70 dollars a day…in exchange for the good brother.  (Let’s throw in the cockeyed brother for free)

Which family member’s loss would you endure for $2.70 a day?

Listen, I don’t wanna get all preachy and what not.  It’s not that the money isn’t a right and good gesture particularly in an area of the world where most household incomes are just $300 a year.  I mean these folks are now almost set for life. Almost.

It’s just that I don’t want the money to buy out our outrage that we’re still in this never-ending fight for oil.  I want us to remain uneasy about that.  I want us to be in a constant state of discomfort, like a bad case of cramps that no amount of Motrin will resolve no matter how many you take so you lay in a crumpled ball on the floor in a fetal position unable to move but it still doesn’t help and even though it’s clear you don’t feel well the demands don’t stop – Mommy, where is the…Honey, did you make the…Auntie can you take me to the…until you SNAP and set the house on fire and watch all your troubles go up in flames…

Wait…what was I talking about?

Oh, yeah…Because this constant state of war will not be without consequence to our children and our future generations. And by “our”  I mean all over the world not just Americans.  We will be leaving the world to those children as well as our own.  It’s easy for us to lose sight of that.  We have the luxury of experiencing war, for the most part, from the couch with a cold drink and yummy snacks secure in the knowledge that no Afghan solider has ready access to our borders, let alone our homes.

For the most part, our wars are fought on their soil.

When it gets messy, we pay to clean it up.  Despite how the world feels about Americans, our money is still good money.  But let’s be clear on what that blood money is buying us. There is a smoldering anger that is stoked each time those dollars are spent, a constant reminder of the true cost of their new, so-called easier life.

It’s very important that we, as a nation, demand that our government establish the facts of this massacre quickly and publicly prosecute all wrongdoing.   Eventually, the relief and novelty of that money will wear off and those families will be looking for a bigger payout.  We’d better be ready because nothing, my friends, nothing pays a higher dividend than sweet, sweet justice.

Ladies and gentlemen…I received my very first hate mail today complete with the N-word and everything!!!!!   That’s right…the sender of this email said I was huge NARCISSIST (and an a-hole, which in all fairness, I have freely admitted to on more than one occasion) and challenged me to have even one thought or write even one post where I did not place myself squarely at the center of the universe.  (They also challenged me to drop dead but we’ll leave that one alone for now…I hope)

Not one to pass on a challenge (with, of course, the one exception) — please see my completely selfless post below:

….

….

(crickets…)

(deafening sound of silence)

Ok, I’ll admit it…I got nothin’.

Sure, I’m not one to pass on a challenge but neither am I one to pass on the opportunity to annoy the hell outta someone who says hateful things to another person because of her OPINION.  (Hmmm, maybe Mom was right, maybe I am kind of an a-hole.)

So, I’ve added this site to my blogroll because something about this blog seems important; don’t quite know why I think so…but anyway, I want to make sure everyone sees it. 

Click Here:  Yo, Is This Racist?

CAUTION:  Not for the fainthearted, this muthaf#%$ has a potty mouth.

I’d love to hear your thoughts…

As I careened down the hill at mach speed, frantically grabbing at trees or small children or anything else that might help break my fall, it occurred to me that skiing is a good metaphor for dealing with life.

First, you should know that the “tuck and roll” is critically important to falling without injury and is almost impossible to pull off with skis on. When you fall while skiing, your ass is in it to win it so you might as well go as hard as you can and let the fall be what it will be. In life, I tend to hold back and err on the side of caution, hesitating with each step to make sure I don’t fall. But as my ass was skidding down that snow bank like a rock across a pond, it occurred to me that the fall was not nearly as bad as the FEAR of the fall. In fact, all that damn flailing around was a reaction to the fear, not the fall. The actual fall itself was just soft thud, a face full of snow and a muffled “Oomph!”

That’s my major point.

My minor point is that a booty, no matter how flat, fluffy or wide, is not an effective shock absorber.

Hey, I never said these challenges would be deep. Who am I? Deepak Chopra?

Next weekend’s challenge? I investigate the adage that “it takes two to tango!”

Sitting with a group of friends late last night at a diner in what appeared to have become an intervention, I was told that I might indeed be wound a little too tight.  It took a bit of convincing but ultimately I saw the light.

“When did I become so uptight?” I innocently asked my bestie.

“At birth?” he instantly replied but then gave it more thought and followed with “for crying out loud, you’re a Republican!”

The truth is that I do have a lot of rules that I use to govern my behavior.  (Strangely, few rules or anything else for that matter govern what comes out of my mouth but whatevs…)   Some of these rules are based on gender (“Women shouldn’t do that!”) while others are based on age (“I’m too old for that!”)  Even more are based on self-defined standards for social acceptability that exist only in my mind.

But now that I’m 28-ish, I want to challenge some of my own thinking both on personal and political fronts.  I want to make sure my perspective is well balanced and fair.  I want to prove that the truth loses nothing to investigation.  And dammit, I wanna loosen the hell up!

So, for the next year, I will spend time each weekend doing one thing that pushes my personal boundaries.  Maybe I’ll dance on a table, maybe I’ll go out without a perfectly matched belt-bag-shoe combination.  Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll listen to a liberal talk and try not to vomit.

Who knows?  The possibilities are endless.

So…….what the hell does this have to do with you, you ask?

Clearly, you didn’t think I would embark on such a journey and not bore you to death with every single detail, did you?

Really?

REALLY??

p.s. ish=12 years (For those of you who got stuck on that 28)

The old superstition that whomever you spend New Year’s Eve with will be with you throughout the New Year has held true for me for the last twenty years of my life without fail.

I can’t think of better people to spend 2012 with than all of you.  Thanks for being a part of my journey!

Just don’t show up at my place…cuz I do have po-po on speed dial.

Happy New Year to all of you!  I pray that 2012 will bring you closer to your true purpose.  Through that journey, you will find all of the love, happiness and prosperity your heart can hold. 

Wow!  Who would have ever thought I’d be here long enough to write y’all a second annual Christmas greeting?

This has been quite a year for us as a people.  Let the Mayans tell it…it will be our last.  And if so, quite frankly, we are going out balls to the wall.

So, in the midst of strife, warfare and revolution, my Christmas wish to you is…love.  I wish you love.  Not the kind of love that requires a safe word.  Well,  not JUST the kind of love that requires a safe word.

The kind that proves we are not in this life alone but rather part of a rich complex fabric, our destinies interwoven, calling for young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, good and bad…well, maybe not Newt Gingrich or any of the Kardashians…to work collectively and live collaboratively.

So, bottom line? You are stuck with me and, in a handful of rare instances, to me…but that’s a Jell-O story for the third Christmas greeting.

Happy Holidays to my KCG folks, wherever you are.  Hope that you are safe and well because not everyone is.

Praying peace for the people of Nigeria today.

If I knew I would live forever, I would never get anything done.  Everything could wait until tomorrow cuz I’d be guaranteed, like, a million of ‘em.

As much as I fear death, it is surely the one constant that gives my life a sense of urgency and truly fuels my purpose.  Now, I don’t know what the hell that purpose is but when I find out…it’s gonna be gassed up like a MUTHA#$%.

Just thought I’d share.

RIP Patrice O’Neal.  Too soon, man…too soon.