I should be better at this.
Updates Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and whenever I fucking feel like it.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Shades of Jack excerpt: 90 Days- Chapter One
Friday, February 27, 2009
Damn you, Jaimie from Lowe's
Been over a month. I know, I'm a twat. Here goes.
So for the past month, I have been watching a friend's infant as I prepare to skip town, and we normally head on out during the day with the kid to show him stuff so he isn't home all the time. This past Wednesday, we went to Lowe's to pick up some screen doors, and we wound up having to return one. He put it on his card, so he decided to carry the door as I pushed the little one in the stroller. For some background, my buddy is an ex-Marine, six feet tall, and about 220 all muscle. I'm an ex-soldier, a hair under six feet tall, and though I'm a doughy 260, I look like I can bench a truck. I wasn't expecting to leave that day, so I was in yoga pants, a really gay tank top, and flip flops.
Now, we get to the returns desk, and while he is trying to get the transaction finished, Jaimie, the cashier is fawning over the kid. She looks at Bear Force One, and then to me, and in a moment of absolute hilarity, looks at the kid who is white as his parents, and then to me, who is about as black as you could get without actually being #000000, then says AND I QUOTE "He's so cute, you two guys are so lucky."
The inside of my head detached from my brain to prevent the laughter from crashing my Gibson (hehehe). My bud's head snapped like a Doberman; "What did you say?"
Jaimie realized that she just made a slight faux pas. She just told two guys who looked like they beat up on wild animals for fun that they look like they suck dick. My friend is secure enough in his masculinity to not actually be upset of that implication, just that she discounted his wife. She quickly recanted, and stumbled through a backpedal that I haven't seen the likes of which since the last presidential debates.
The entire time, I am trying to keep from laughing my ass all the way off.
The whole ride back to the house, we argued over who would be the top.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Oh, my God. He's backing Ann Coulter
Don't get me wrong; I still hope that she gets mauled by a fucking polar bear and her entrails lit aflame and her limbs crushed while she still breathes. However, punctuation pause, she spent some time on “The View”- a show that would be a beacon of intelligent female conversation and thought, but instead, is nothing but menopausal cackling for an hour out of my day (ninety seconds on The Soup). The whole time (that I was able to stand), all they did was discuss a portion of her book; Guilty: Liberal "Victims" and Their Assault on America. After the jump, I'll add a piece of it. They were referencing a line from her book that blasts celebrities for making sex tapes and posing nude one day, then getting pregnant and raising children in a single parent home the next- all for a publicity stunt. Now, this is a valid point. There are too many babies raising babies. Too many 30 year-old grandparents. Too much illegitimacy. It's fucking up the country. The nuclear family is tantamount to the development of children.
Instead of agreeing with her statistically sound and absolutely valid point, they decided to latch on to a “single mothers are the devil” stance and repeatedly put words in her mouth. Then they kept trying to double talk her into getting dumbfounded, but since she does research, so she kept backing up her points with... uh... facts and er, logic. When they got tired of yelling over each other to prove her wrong, Barbara Walters changed the subject.
Don't believe me? Watch.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGbWSfIL1d4
I am a product of a single-guardian home, and let me tell you that it pales in comparison to having a mother and father present. You need both. "Takes a village"? At least.
So, yeah. Ann Coulter may be a fug hag, but she at least knows what she is talking about. Think about it, how much of a cockpunch do you have to be to make her look like a decent person?
Friday, December 19, 2008
BURN, BITCH!! BURN
You will burn for this, you fucking piece of shit.
-Jack Viktor Storm Constantine Freeman
12252008
There are two ways to look at this; first of all, you have too many kids if you cannot support them without living hand-to-mouth. That’s just the facts. Second, well, you can’t put the kid back, but you wouldn’t have to hear them whine about being the only kid on the block without a Wii, PS3 and XBOX 360 stacked on top of each other and a brand new copy of Call of Duty for each console, if you never got the wild hair to make the ungrateful stain in the first place. I have found that if your kids have that attitude past the age of innocence, then they stay that way as adults. Please, there are enough 20-somethings in Scottsdale, Arizona like that as it is already. More on that later.
I was raised poor. Not the poor that I was able to still hold my head high, and yet thankfully not Appalachian poor, either. No, I was somewhere in the middle. Like there was a lot of eating long-spoiled food, and ill-fitting clothes, bathing in well water (all time favorite, folks), and there were more mornings with no lights than I would care to recall. Out of practice, I don’t celebrate holidays because on my birthdays I was lucky if I got well-wishing- scratch that, I never received as much as a “happy birthday”, so I learned that Christmas was going to just be another day shivering in the garage that I was told was my bedroom (as a fun fact, there was a bedroom that was fully insulated and heated which I was never actually told why I was unable to use).
What is interesting to even me, is that I’m not bitter. On the same side of that Susan B. Anthony, don’t try to curry some sympathy from me because you can’t afford to get your kids everything on their list. Feed them and keep them warm, don’t let them grow up to be me. If they complain, kick the shit out of them. Trust me, it works.
-jack
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Grown-ass Man
I am not your homeboy, your g-dogg, funky fresh beatmaster, or whatever you gleaned from your hours of MTV or (may God Herself Forbid), BET and deemed appropriate to use to address another adult. Just in case you hadn’t been told otherwise, please allow me to make it known that I am not on Earth to entertain you- I don’t care what Lil’ Wayne says. I am not impressed by the terrible excuse for a Jamaican accent that you predictably don to try to get into my good graces when I tell you where my family is from. It would be laughable, if you weren’t so damned ignorant. On that note, I am not growing dreadlocks because you think that “it would look cool”. You obviously have no clue what they represent, and no, I do not think that it is okay that you grew them. My culture is not to be used as your fad, and your culture being devoid of soul, irrevocably unoriginal, and fundamentally vapid is not our fault. Come up with something on your own. I will not freestyle at your parties. My culture, my people are not here for you.
My last name is Freeman, not motherfucking Bojangles.
News Flash: Black people have been in America since the early 1600’s. Guess what? We have been speaking English for almost the entire time. In 2008, I have found that my speech surpasses yours, but don’t you fucking dare assume that I will lower myself and speak as if I was some caricature that you wish to emulate on television as if I didn’t have any class. I understand that you were raised by your television, and that reading books is gay, but unlike the bullshit that you are trying to blackface yourself into, I promise that we are capable of far more than “damn, shit, and that is wack”. This I promise to you. I have seen myself do it millions of times.
What kills me is that I have to endure this in professional situations as well. I have since completely abandoned the club scene, because the American lust for conspicuous consumption and “shine” sickens and bores me, but more on that later. I work in admissions for a university. I expect to be around people whom even if they are lacking, could pretend that they are of some modicum of breeding. An iota, please. I dress professionally, I wear little, if any jewelry, and I speak with impeccable diction and grammar. So why, goddamnit pray tell, do you believe that it is even remotely acceptable to address me as if I was your drug dealer? Never mind the fact that white kids are asking me if I am carrying drugs to sell everywhere I go, I can’t even get the respect that I have earned in my own office!
I bet that I know how I am beginning to seem to some of you, and I am sure that I am coming off as the stereotypical “angry black man” (one can only hope for so much), but you would be too. If not worse, that is. Allow me to explain; consider for a moment, that during your formative years, any depiction found anywhere of the people whom you most resemble are pimps, street hustlers, addicts, cowards, idiots, thugs, gang members, or worse. Now with that negative stereotype galvanizing the perspective of said people, how will you feel when one day, you find an intelligent, respectable, driven, worldly youth of the same culture? I mean this person would have the skills that it would take to make a successful life for themselves as an adult, right?
Please tell me that you are fucking kidding me.
Growing up, because I used an authority of speech, and read books, I was called an Uncle Tom, and worse. I had to deal with being ostracized by the only people in my community that looked like me because I refused to idolize gangsta rappers and act out with thuggish behavior. I guess my common sense gland was a tad overdeveloped at such a tender age. Getting shot or shot at? No thank you. Living off of the state with no income? Hell no! Eschewing knowledge and success for a family that I could not support and a life of self-hatred and drudgery? Are you insane? Losing my freedom, and going to jail; effectively ruining my chances to live a long, happy, and productive life, not to mention forfeiting my right to vote? Pass.
Don’t you dare try to relate to me with your childish attempts to mock me.
-jack
Monday, December 15, 2008
"This is a farewell... you dog!!"
Damn, all that coke must have given my nigga some superhuman fucking reflexes.
-jack