A note about self-care…

Shall we?

An activist friend recently asked me how folks continue on in the social justice movement during times like this…when it feels like the forces of evil are winning…when those around us are pushing apathy like it’s the new “it” drug…when chaos rules, greed thrives, hate grows, and the prize seems too far away to keep our eyes on it.

The answer to that question keeps changing and is a little bit different for everyone.

I know some people who focus on work/life balance.

Other folks shut down to recharge on a regular basis.

Still others indulge in debauch and get their party on...hard.

Me?

I tend to do a little bit of everything or anything...whatever it takes to get back to well.

I take time for family…not as much as I probably should, but I never claimed to be perfect.

I allow myself to not be perfect…(see sentence above).

I always take Saturdays offline…well, not always.

Didn’t I say something about not being perfect (wink)?

And when I need to crash…when the weight of it all is just too much…when I feel like I’m going to lash out at the next motherfucker who tries to spin hate as love, murder as justice, oppression as empowerment…

…when I need to crash I crash.

As a matter of fact, today I’m emerging from a good old fashioned couch-based no shower taking take-out food munching trash novel reading two day crash!

And I feel better.

I opened up this computer and didn’t resent doing it.

I read my email without dread.

And when I read the first message about [insert outrageous injustice here] I wasn’t filled with apathy…my soul ached but that’s human and okay…

…and my mind responded with thoughts of how the hell we can beat back the bad to make room for the good.

My Grandmother used to say that they call this a struggle for a reason.

I’m going to add that those of us who take up the cause of justice need to remember that this is a marathon, not a sprint.

So, take care…take time for you…crash if you need to…watch a shitty movie or read something non-movement/politics/activism/reality related…garden…have great sex…whatever.

Take care.

The movement…the struggle will be there when you come back…and it needs you strong, solid, and ready to get set and go.

Thanks for the question, Z!

Untitled…

Longtime readers know that I’m a crime buff. I’ve been fascinated with human behavior and how it is displayed through both crime and reaction to crime.

The Troy Davis case sits heavy on my heart…and it reminds me of another Georgia murder case from way back that ended in death even as it failed to distribute justice.

When I was a wee one I watched a television movie about the murder of Mary Phagan. Phagan was a 14 year-old girl who was murdered in 1913…she had gone to her place of employment…a factory…to claim her pay and disappeared. Her body was later found at the factory.

Evidence found at the scene pointed toward a black man who worked at the factory…

…but suspicion turned on the factory owner, Leo Frank.

Anti-Semitism factored into the police investigation…Frank was Jewish.   

Anger at industrialists also played a role...Frank was wealthy.

Leo Frank was arrested, tried, and found guilty…

…he appealed and was eventually granted clemency because the trial was a controversial mess showcasing racism, anti-Semitism, and questionable eyewitness testimony.

Shortly after gaining clemency Leo Frank was kidnapped from prison by a mob and lynched.

A mob that had decided Frank’s guilt…a mob that dismissed the evidence cited in the statement of clemency…a mob that was so secure in their certainty and the support of the masses that they didn’t even bother to hide their faces as they stood for a picture with Frank's hanging body.

70 years later a man who had been a child working at the factory came forward…he explained that he had seen a black man carrying Mary Phagan’s body in the factory but his family made him promise not to tell for fear of reprisals from the same people who were set on punishing Frank.

This new witness said he wanted to die in peace.

He passed a lie detector test and, after re-examining the evidence, historians have determined that a black man who worked at the factory was likely the man who murdered Mary Phagan.

Death as a punishment for murder requires certainty beyond a reasonable doubt.

Certainty can be a very dangerous thing.  

The mob wasn’t focused on finding the murderer of a young girl.

The mob was out for vengeance and fueled by rage.

It has been nearly 100 years since the murder of Mary Phagan…100 years of death as a punishment for murder, be it by lynching or vigilante or the justice system.

100 years of the mob.

Applauding Governors for high incarceration and execution rates.

Dismissing the recanting of faulty eyewitness testimony.

Ignoring a lack of physical evidence.

The mob is still out for vengeance and fueled by rage.

And today, as it was then, murderers walk among us while the mob sits back satisfied.

Well, appeasement hasn’t worked…

Over the weekend I heard that President Obama would reveal his plan to reduce long-term deficits. It includes a repeal of the Bush era tax breaks for folks making over $250,000 per year…and it also includes some tax-based changes to increase the likelihood that the rich will pay the same percent in taxes as the masses.

Twas telling that a gang of conservative minions is already out there fussing about Class War.

The Obama administration is spinning against that label hard…

…but, after a year spent watching conservatives and their tea adoring allies attack the elements of society that serve the rest of us in order to protect the overflowing pocketbooks of the few, I welcome a discussion of Class War.

Pause…sip coffee…continue.

Shall we?

Wealthy folks have used their considerable influence within government to manipulate tax code in their favor for decades.

We the people have been told all manner of bullshit lies about how that get-out-of-paying-your-fair-share manipulation is good for us, as if we’re serfs and the wealthy are old school nobility that exist to save us from own ignorant selves.

I’m old enough to remember trickle down economics in practice…and how that anemic trickle never seemed to make it down to the majority.

So yes...what the heck...let’s talk about Class War.

Let’s talk about using the weapons of government to attack organized labor.

Let’s talk about holding our economy hostage through Debt Ceiling political theater so that effective social programs get slashed while the wealthy feast.

Let’s talk about taking a hostile posture toward Medicare, Medicaid, and Social Security…all programs that benefit the majority of Americans…because working to preserve these programs would require actually sharing sacrifice rather than just talking about sharing sacrifice.

Let’s talk about the percent of tax most Americans pay as compared to the percent of tax all the folks who live in [insert wealthy gated-for-fear-of-the-unwashed-masses suburb near you here] pay.

Pause…sip more coffee…continue.

President Obama’s proposal isn’t the launch of a new Class War.

We the people have been fighting this war since this nation was founded and citizen rights were determined by land ownership, gender, and race.

Millions of Americans are unemployed and a huge percent of Americans are under-employed.

14.5% of American households are food insecure.

Over 16% of children in America are living in poverty.

I could go on and on.

The minions’ response?

Brutal budget cuts, bizarre reckless proposed revisions to Social Security and Medicare…and, wait for it...calls for a balanced budget amendment that would mandate brutal budget cuts and bizarre reckless proposed revisions to Social Security and Medicare until those programs are programs in name only.

The Lindsey Grahams and Paul Ryans and Mitch McConnells of the world aren’t raising their voices in protest over the administration launching a Class War.

They are on their feet, fists clenched, in response to TALK of ending a SMIDGE of the multitude of appeasement government has been laying at their feet.

We keep giving them inches…

…they keep taking miles, building trenches, and erecting policy-based mine fields.

Pondering a very special session…

Let’s jump on in!

I'm a political junkie and I’ve watched as liberals attack each other over loyalty versus criticism…conservatives attach each other over what the definition of conservative is…and so-called Main Street Americans express disgust over the state of all things plus the price of milk.

And the only thing everyone can agree on is jobs…jobs, jobs, jobs, JOBS!

This is where bitchitude demands that we pause and then consider.

Politics is local.

In my home state of Missouri we have a hell of a lot of state-based politics to wade through before we can turn our gaze toward Washington DC and get our fuss on about how FUBAR things are there.

Now catch that knee…CATCH IT!

That does not mean that people should not be critical of Congress or the Obama administration.

It just means that people need to brush up on basic School House Rock civics, remember that the federal government isn’t the only place making policy…and take a good long hard look at their state government to see if they aren’t fucking shit up their damn selves.

Example – the Missouri Assembly is current knee deep in a Special Session.

State legislators…and folks would do well to remember that each state has a bunch of those legislating all manner of things…are gathered to address some stuff Governor Nixon wants to get done that they didn’t get done during session because…well, let’s just say the 2011 session was held hostage by an outbreak of political posturing and pandering that got in the way of things like um, legislating.

So, Missouri state lawmakers are getting their Special Session on.  They have been tasked with deciding things like whether to return local control of the police department back to St. Louis city.

This dates back to the Civil War.

Yes, I’m serious.

Way.

State legislators also need to pass a package of tax breaks intended to make Lambert Airport a hub for freight flown between China and the Midwest.

That project, known as Aerotropolis, is a big fucking deal and holds the potential of long-term economic growth, construction, and…maybe even jobs.

Gasp.

Suffice it to say that this shit got mired in the muck fast.

And the choir asked… “Is it the same Democrat versus Republican power struggle mess that usually derails legislation?”

And a bitch replied… “Um, no.”

The GOP controls both the Missouri House and Senate…but that hasn’t stopped power struggles or political drama and it certainly hasn’t created an environment where legislation flows easily like shit from a well regulation intestinal tract.

The struggle to get anything done under the dome in Missouri is a good example of what many states face and why a lot of important stimulating things stall.

It’s like our state Assembly has a bowel obstruction…and, as the pressure grows and cramps kick in, legislators begin to make revisions and deals in desperate attempts to get shit moving again.

Year after year we see the same obstruction…um, issue.

And year after year folks look around wide-eyed and confused about why they can’t take a shit pass important legislation.

You know and I know that you know that I know that all eyes are on DC right now.

But I’m here to tell ya, what 's got the Missouri Assembly illish isn’t sourced in DC or the result of traditional donkey vs. elephant partisan politics.

Pause…consider…continue.

I’d hold out hope for a Fiber Therapy bill, but odds are the Republican leadership in Jefferson City would reject is as socialist junk and demand that everyone eat more cheese...

...and then they'd start arguing over what cheese is the best cheese and which cheese Reagan would have eaten and how they've been eating the Reagan cheese since they were kids but [insert rival's name here] is actually lactose intolerant so she/he is a lying about liking Reagan cheese and shouldn't there be an Anti-Fiber fetal heartbeat pledge because we need to protect the pre-born from bran and wasn't there a rumor that fiber has the HPV vaccine in it so anyone supporting fiber clearly hates America and anyone not eating cheese wants to destroy our freedom and Beck said the Founders rarely took a shit but look what they accomplished...

Blink.

The “yeah!” heard ‘round the Twitterverse!

Let’s jump right on in, y’all!

Last night CNN held the first ever GOP Tea Party debate.

Aside – that title was confusing because if it is a GOP debate then why not call it a GOP debate but if it is a Tea Party debate then they should call it a Tea Party debate, but by calling it a GOP Tea Party debate they basically framed the Tea Party as a brand of GOP…or should that be a flavor of GOP…when they don’t really seem to like the GOP, but I digress.

Anyhoo…the candidates for the GOP nomination debated for the Tea Party faithful and for that we should all be grateful.

Catch that knee…catch it!!

I’m not approving of CNN’s addiction to all things Tea Party. I disagree with a network shit disturbing to fuel an opposition that they see as an election season ratings generator.

But this debate forced the candidates seeking the Tea Party’s favor to go on record with where they stand on Tea Party politics…and that’s a good thing.  Looking back at then candidate Bush in 1999, I don’t recall him going on record for anything more than what his favorite sandwich was. 

Fast-forward to the now and we’ve got candidates seeking the GOP nomination publicly saying shit they may not even believe just to get some love at a john Birch Society revival! 

Case in point – the “yeah” heard ‘round the Twitterverse.

Y’all remember when Rep. Grayson said that Republicans wantthe sick to “die quickly” during a health care debate in the House?

Yeah, the faux outrage over that shit came to mind during last night’s debate.

Wolfie B. of CNN asked Ron Paul a series of questions about health care coverage and ended up with a question about whether an uninsured 30 year old man with cancer should be allowed to die because he can not afford the treatment.

The audience cheered.

More than one person yelled “yeah!!”

Twas sickening…disturbing…macabre…and just the kind of unscripted realness that we’ve been missing from a “movement” that has been given one too many passes from a media eager for that ratings generator I mentioned earlier.

They want to kill social security.

They either struggle to grasp the fact that there are jobs and then there are jobs that pay a living wage or they just don’t give a shit.

And they think the sick in America should die if they lack health care coverage.

America has a lot more to decide than whether they want tea or lemon with that tea…

For the good of the children...

I was going to write about all manner of things but I just read this opinion piece up on Stltoday.com and…well, I’ve got an opinion about the opinion expressed.

Shall we?

Illinois has passed a law recognizing civil unions between same-sex couples.

Catholic Charities responded by saying they do not recognize unions between same-sex couples…so they plan to not place foster children in homes where folks aren’t man-on-woman sanctified married.

This battle has been trudging through the courts.

A certain Bill McClellan of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch thinks that, because Catholic Charities takes care of lots of foster kids, the church based organization should be allowed to discriminate against same-sex couples…

…for the good of the children.

This bitch disagrees on a point of dangerous logic that, if applied equally instead of just toward same-sex couples, would justify forms of discrimination foolish people like Mr. McClellan are likely convinced would have gone out of fashion if [insert activist led movement here] had just been a wee bit patient and tolerated being treated like a lesser than human.

Follow me here…

Buses in Montgomery served residents and even managed to carry black folk around town. All the owners wanted to do was be able to impose one standard of customer care to one group and a totally different standard to another.

Well, since they serve lots of folks…

Companies employ lots of people and all they want to do is be able to hire people who look just like them and not hire disabled people because they don’t want to have to change their office bathrooms or work stations.

Well, since they hire lots of folks…

Real estate agents show lots of houses and they match customers to properties for sale. All they want is to be able to show one neighborhood to one race and another neighborhood to another race.

Well, since they provide a service to most people…

States recognize the marriages of lots of people and facilitate those couples being able to get access to thousands of rights.  All they want to do is be able to deny black people the right to marry white people…and heck, they even have quotes from the Bible to back that shit up!

Well, since they have those Bible quotes and they marry lots of people and blah followed by blah followed by blah…

Pause…sip coffee…continue.

Catch that knee. I’m not seeking to compare oppression or trigger another round of the oppression Olympics.

I want what’s best for children in foster care. I want kids to be placed in safe and nurturing environments. But, on top of failing to pass the logic test of shit we should give a pass to McClellan’s opinion fails to recognize the other undeniable fact on the table – some of those kids Catholic Charities doesn’t want to place with LGBT people are themselves LGBT people.

McClellan is right about one thing…in the final analysis, we should err on the side of what is best for the children.

In this case, Illinois is doing that…

…would that Catholic Charities had the decency to do the same.

The Great Toilet Exorcism of 2011…

Warning – the following post involves a toilet, a backed up sewer, plumbers, and an exorcism. If you have problems with shit, toilets, or exorcisms…well, this is not the post for you!

Shall we?

Those of you who follow me on Twitter are already aware of the story I’m about to share and how this bitch and a certain C-Money went to war with our downstairs toilet, which had become possessed by a demon…or, as the plumbers prefer to call it, a backed up sewer line.

Pause…shudder…continue.

I took Friday off with the hope of having a fantabulous and rare four-day weekend.  After running errands, I returned home for a relaxing evening with the dawgs.  Around 7pm Friday evening, I went to the loo to do what folks do when they go to the loo…only to have the toilet try to reach out and touch a bitch midway through the doing of the thing I went into the loo to do!

The toilet…we’ll call her Sister Girl Downstairs Toilet…was pissed off and not afraid to show it.  She let forth a fierce gurgle…it got louder and louder…I shot to my feet, bare assed and scared, and turned around just in time to see Sister Girl Downstairs Toilet erupt with a flood of stanky water the likes of which I’ve never seen before and have already informed the gods I never ever EVAH want to see again!

I pulled up my drawers and leapt from the bathroom at the same time, calling out to C-Money to come forth fast. She rounded the corner with a look of horror…and, after a shocked pause, we waded in to stop the flood.

So beganeth The Great Toilet Exorcism of 2011.

Gulp.

 

Sister Girl Downstairs Toilet erupted several more times Friday night…each eruption-based gushing flood nastier than the next. We quickly determined that running the water elsewhere in the house was connected to the gushes.  I took to Twitter and got lots of advice, eventually narrowing the possibilities down to a backed up sewer line, demonic possession, or a combination of those two options.

We called a plumber and miraculously were able to schedule the exorcism…um, err “appointment” for the next morning.

I had a horrible nightmare that night that involved a gator jumping up through the toilet while I was trying to pee and biting my ass cheek…so, suffice it to say I got less than 2 hours of sleep before Plumber Exorcist #1 (PE#1) arrived and examined the scene.

PE#1… “So, it looks like you’ve got a backed up sewer line. I can snake it and see if that takes care of the blockage.”

Sister Girl Downstairs Toilet … “Gurgle, belch…gurgle, belch…STANK!”

Fu, eyes round with horror… “Yeah, sure, um…whatever, dude…just take care of it, okay?”

PE#1, eager to explain why he needed to snake the line “…because the water is backing up and not getting through which is why…”

Sister Girl Downstairs Toilet… “BELCH, GUGGLE, BELCH…GURGLE…STAAAAAANK!”

Fu, now wild eyed and desperate… “I don’t give a flying shit what you have to do but you do what you need to do to make the shit stop flying out of that motherfucking toilet!!!”

PE#1 had obviously seen this kind of reaction before. He nodded, calmly filled out his paperwork, and went out front to snake our line.

Meanwhile, C-Money was busy looking up exploding toilets on the Internets. Every half-hour or so she’d pipe up with examples of how this eruption drama could be worse.

C-Money… “Some dude in Texas had a toilet explode on him and pin him to a wall!”

Fu… “Fuck you.”

Sister Girl Downstairs Toilet… “Gurgle, belch!”

Plumber Exorcist #1 came back in. He’d snaked the line twice but the demon wasn’t letting go.

It was time to send for another exorcist with a power hose to flush the line.

Sister Girl Downstairs Toilet, apparently aware that she’d bested the first plumber, proudly gushed some more sewer water and then fell silent.

Two hours passed…and then Plumber Exorcist #2 came to the house.

***cue the music***

He entered like a veteran toilet exorcist.

We began to tell him what was what about the multiple things the toilet was doing and that there were likely several demons within…but he cut us off.

“SILENCE! There is only one demon. Let me see the toilet now.”

We backed away as Plumber Exorcist #2 approached the beast.

Sister Girl Toilet belched and groaned.

The Plumber Exorcist nodded and turned away.

“Show me the basement.”

You bet your happy ass I did!

He was down there for a while…an ungodly stank rose from the vents...the house shook and I heard what sounded like an ocean flowing in the basement.

I’m pretty sure I heard Plumber Exorcist #2 chanting.

“The power of a flushed out main sewer line compels you! The power of water clearing a path for more water through the pipe compels you!”

The toilet gasped…gurgled and belched…and then fell silent.

A hush fell over the house.

After confirming that we could once again run water in the upstairs bath without inviting the sewer in to our downstairs bathroom, Plumber Exorcist #2 took his leave.

C-Money and I turned to look at each other and then leveled out shock-glazed eyes at the downstairs toilet…from a safe distance, because we no longer trust that bitch.

“No way in hell am I EVER using that toilet again.” C-Money said in a flat exhausted voice.

I nodded.

“No way in fucking hell.”

So endeth the toilet exorcism.

Blink.

A Labor Day Remembrance…

Some of my fondest memories are of Saturdays spent with my father…rest his soul.

I’ve always been a morning person and my father was too. On Saturdays we’d be up before everyone else in the house…and I’d watch him make a list of the things he needed to do or purchase that day. Then we’d be off…just the two of us, going through our Saturday father/daughter routine.

My father was a marketing director for a major soda pop company. He traveled a lot…worked long hours…and it often felt like he wasn’t present during the week.  He made sure my sister and I understood why…that he had to work to be able to provide for our family and that we should not take our home or three meals a day for granted. My father often shared stories from his childhood…he grew up in poverty and his childhood was one filled with hunger and want.

I have a vivid memory of one Saturday in particular. It had been a tough week for our family…my older brother had experienced some real challenges with his behavior therapy at school and my mother had put in 16 hour days trying to help him get himself back on track. Dad had put in the same kind of hours at his job, so by the time Saturday rolled in neither one of them had been able to get to the market.

The fridge was empty save for a container of hot sauce and some pickles.

I was around 7 or 8 years old and I remember walking into the kitchen to wish my father a good morning…and seeing him standing in front of that empty fridge with a look on his face.

A look on his face and shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world rested on them.

He looked stricken…

Desperate?

Haunted and…

Was that fear?

He turned to me and smiled a lost little smile.

Yes, haunted…stricken…with a touch of desperate fear.

And my father said…softly, so softly I would have missed it if the house weren’t hushed in sleep.

“I guess we need to go to the grocery store, huh?”

I remember nodding but wanted more than anything to give him a hug and tell him that it would be okay because we would fill that fridge to bursting.

But I knew with a certainty that is rare in life that hunger was still my father’s demon even though his belly was no longer empty…that he wouldn’t shake that haunted feeling until he packed up that fridge.

For him, providing through his labor wasn’t defined by flashy new cars or trendy clothes – providing was as basic as food and shelter and the absence of that triggered something deep within his soul.

We got dressed and hit the grocery store with a vengeance…he insisted that we go through every aisle and I remember giggling in embarrassment as he ate a bunch of grapes he’d snagged early on.

Our groceries were bagged…we returned to our house and unloaded them…and I watched as the tension left my father degree by degree as each shelf in the fridge filled with food.

When we finished he returned to his pose in front of the open fridge door, a satisfied smile on his face.

Twas so basic and raw and human…it took my breath away.

Sigh.

I remember the lesson learned that Saturday morning of why we labor…

…and that far too many labor for a wage that will never truly provide.

Happy Labor Day.

Are you there, America? It’s me, the $60 billion in U.S. tax dollars lost to waste and fraud in Iraq and Afghanistan…

Happy Wednesday, y’all!

Let’s jump right on in, damnit.

I fell asleep with the telly on…and I woke up this morning to hear a news bit announcing a commission has found the United States has lost as much as $60 billion in U.S. tax dollars to waste and fraud in Iraq and Afghanistan over the past decade.

After my first cup of coffee, I gathered up Ms. Sistah Girl MacBook Pro and searched for news of this outrageous waste. Suffice it to say a bitch is more than a little annoyed that news of actual waste and fraud struggles to get attention after a year spent listening to assholes go on and on about alleged fraud and waste.

Shit.

The cause du jour is spending cuts. I’ve heard political hopefuls and pundits argue over spending cuts and tax breaks and cutting the national debt. I’ve watched segments on major news outlets cover our debt and basically accept the argument that the United States can’t afford to go on running things the way we are.

Now you know and I know that you know that I know that "spending cuts" and “reform of entitlement programs" are code for telling workers, seniors, the poor, and the disabled that they are going to have to sacrifice more to cut spending because the rich will leave the country if we ask them to pay their fair share in taxes.

For the most part the debate has stalled there…

…but news that the United States spent the past decade burning through billions in Iraq and Afghanistan should reset that shit.

It should…but if the lack of coverage or news-based urgency is any indication, this public display of an area where the nation can save billions of dollars without asking those who have sacrificed to sacrifice more isn’t likely to get a date to prom.

A commission has asked for what many of us on the left have been asking for since the war in Iraq began…a complete overhaul of war spending practices and some motherfucking accountability.

Pause…sip coffee…continue.

So, when’s the rally to protest this outrageous waste and misuse of taxpayer’s money?

Fuck a duck, this shit makes my Afro hurt...

Pondering the latest Wrath of God prophecy…

Shall we?

I believe in a higher power and I respect those who do or don’t. As a founding member of The United Church of Bitchitude and Latter Day Drunks (wink), I often ponder the state of the world and why people seem so hell bent on seeing other people suffer. Longtime readers know that I take issue with legislating faith and mixing organized religion with government…but I also find fault in mocking the beliefs of others while demanding respect for one’s own.  Tis intellectually lazy and juvenile too...and a key commandment of The United Church of Bitchitude and Latter Day Drunks is “Thou shalt not practice intellectual lazitude.”

In that spirit, I’m about to take issue with Michele Bachmann for her announcement during a campaign stop in Florida.

“Washington, D.C., you’d think by now they’d get the message. An earthquake, a hurricane, are you listening? The American people have done everything they possibly can. Now it’s time for an act of God and we’re getting it.”

Pause…sip coffee…continue.

That shit fails to pass the Spock Test of Logical Logic, damn it!

Bachmann isn’t the only public figure who likes to interpret natural disasters as messages from God...and, like the others, she’s thinking in the now and ignoring the multitude of nature-based drama and trauma that happens during conservative administrations or in conservative states or to conservative man-on-woman sanctified with oily ointment families and so forth and so on.

Beyond that, the Earthquakes Mean God is Pissed faithful are missing the message that rancidity sends to those who have lost everything – God was pissed and you are collateral damage so suck it up or take a long look at your life ‘cause you may have lost your house/wife/dog/son/daughter/business/mementos as punishment for your adoration of porn/feasting on food/using naughty language/getting frustrated with your kids/talking back to your parents/[insert other thing that some have determined is evil while others interpret it as not so bad but disaster prophesies are more that willing to interpret as the reason why the earth shook last week and then Hurricane Irene hit the East Coast hard as a motherfucker].

Oh, who am I kidding…the Bachmanns of the world don’t give a shit about logic.

The Bachmanns of the world hear of a natural disaster and immediately start thinking through the potential political points they can score with their base who get off on that shit and honestly believe that bad things are punishment and good things are a reward and thus…wait for it, ‘cause this is the thought process they apply to everyone struggling with poverty, want, and need…

Cough.

…thus, those who struggle do so because they aren’t godly enough and those who prosper do so because it is the will of God.

Dust off those hands and cease all that volunteer work, donating, and/or activism, folks!

‘Cause the Bachmanns of the world have come up with a guaranteed hustle to absolve themselves of ever having to give a shit or give back or care or mourn or do as humans do when natural disasters hit.

Shit, Michele probably watched the hurricane news with smug ass confidence, tisking and tasking those heathens on the East Coast for whatever they did to earn the wrath of God.

Blink.

The power of one…

Happy Monday, y’all!

I’m still recovering from the New Organizing Institute’s Advanced Data Training in DC.

My brain is packed full of some serious data knowledge…and my body is exhausted…but I have to say that NOI’s data training was one of the best training sessions I have had the privilege of participating in!

Yawn…sip coffee…continue.

Anyhoo…

Last night I watched 60 Minutes. Specifically, I watched the segment on the Gospel for Teens program created and run by a certain Vy Higginsen. Ms. Higginsen is a New York radio personality and theater producer and she created Gospel for Teens five years ago.

The 60 Minutes segment was fantabulous, emotional, and inspiring. I watched as teens from New York City auditioned for a program created to preserve and pass on the unique art of gospel music to our youth. The segment introduced us to several young people who face real world challenges…and it also gave us an update of sorts on what’s what in the life of Vy Higginsen.

Oh yes…I thought you knew… we’ve heard from Ms. Higginsen before!

Back in 2007 I watched a feature on people researching their family tree that featured Higginsen. I watched as she explained her motivation, anxiety, and hopes for discovering more about her past. The story was beyond engaging as New Yorker Higginsen discovered that she has a living relative in my home state of Missouri…Poplar Bluff to be specific…oh, and her new cousin is white.

Yep, Ms. Higginsen got one hell of a phone call.

“Hello. My name is Marion West. And I'm a cattle rancher from Poplar Bluff, Missouri. And I understand we're cousins."

You’ve gotta love it!

Back then I was struck by Vy Higginsen’s joyful smile…her humor…and her honest emotions. 

When I saw Higginsen’s beautiful face again last night, I instantly recognized her…she made that much of an impression.

I wasn’t surprised to learn that she is doing amazing things.

I have personal experience in the power of programs like Gospel for Teens. When I was a wee bitch growing up in a troubled home (translation – fucked up from the floor up for multiple reasons), I found solace and empowerment in my advanced writing classes, tennis team, and choir. For a few hours a week I was able to prove to myself that I wasn’t worthless or stupid or doomed to a life of nothingness. I like to think of those moments as regular vaccinations against oppression and verbal abuse.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that those few hours each week got me through one of the most challenging times of my life.

So, yes…I cried as I watched young people step outside their protective shell and start expressing their inner self through music.

I couldn’t help smiling as Higginsen looked on with that beautiful smile on her face, enjoying the young people as much as the music they made.

I know the power of one.

I’ve been the recipient of someone’s simple act of giving a shit and I have been a mentor.

So, here’s a fluff of the Afro to Vy Higginsen and the youth of Gospel for Teens - go on with your bad selves!

I don't know about y'all, but I needed a reminder that empowering others is empowering too…

On Women’s Equality Day…

In 1971 Congress designated August 26th “Women’s Equality Day” at the behest of the late Rep. Bella Abzug (D-NY). Women’s Equality Day commemorates the passage of the 19th Amendment to the Constitution in 1920 that granted women the right to vote.

I’m pondering how much has changed and how much has remains the same.

Winning the vote was a victory for women…but the victory celebration was delayed for many women of color who lived in states where voter suppression was in full effect. My Grandmother, who was born in Mississippi a few years before 1920, didn’t have the protected vote...and a right in name only is not a right.

Today, many women face a world where access is barred to all manner of things…fair housing, decent education, safe and healthy living conditions, safe and affordable healthcare, healthcare providers, and so on and so forth.

The movement for equality and justice is my inheritance…earned through the blood, sweat, and tears of millions who risked it all and suffered mightily.

This Women’s Equality Day I’m thinking of how I honor that sacrifice.

It really is like tending to an inheritance.

Through activism and outreach…so that women know what threats those opposed to justice have cooked up and how to combat them.

Through education and mentoring…so that lessons learned do not have to be re-learned, younger generations are empowered, and to gain inspiration through the amazing work of others.

And through the vote…oh, yes – the power of the vote, which women fought for and earned in 1920 and the women in my family were able to take advantage of in 1965.

Happy Women’s Equality Day…

…celebrate it but don’t forget to honor it.

Past the halfway point of a 7 day training…

I’m on Day 5 of the New Organizing Institute’s Advanced Data Training in DC…

…and my brain is fixing to explode with newly learned shit!

Lawd.

We’ve had back-to-back 13 (or maybe they’ve been 14) hour days spent going over all kinds of data-based programs, techniques, strategies, and tricks.

I’m in data geek heaven…but I’m also tired as hell.

Exhaustion + lots of social contact + the pressure of learning new things usually = this bitch going off on someone for something I’d usually ignore and chock up to the lack of home training in America.

‘Tis a testament to my fellow data trainees, and the coaches and staff of NOI, that no such situation has come about…big props.

Anyhoo, three more days to go and I’m rather proud of myself for managing this much constant socialization without snapping at anyone!

Seriously, I deserve a cookie.

Pause…consider…continue.

Shit, if I make it to Saturday I’ll deserve an entire pie…

Data training, an earthquake, and a potential hurricane…

Lawd.

I’ve been in Washington, DC for the New Organizing Institute’s Advanced Data Training…you know, so I can get my hard-core social change on…and it’s been a challenging and enriching experience.

I’ve been to DC several times and I know that it can be muggy this time of year, but the most excitement I was expecting out of DC during a Congressional recess and with President Obama on vacation was a random political scandal or race-baiting statement by [insert politician, staffer, or news outlet here].

So imagine my surprise when the earth freaking shook yesterday in the middle of a session about matching lists through Access!

Like a true Missourian, I did everything wrong and headed outside...swiftly.

Well, shit…I’m your go-to person during a tornado, but a sistah doesn’t experience earthquakes often!

Eventually the earth stopped shaking and everyone settled down to returned to training…but daaaamn, that was some freaky shit because I don’t expect earthquakes on the East Coast.

Pause…look around anxiously…continue.

And I’m beginning to think I may have pissed off the Goddess…

…because it looks like a hurricane is heading our way later this week.

Blink.

Science!

Hi y’all!

I’m on Day 3 of a 7-day data training…we’ve been going from 9am until 9:30pm each day…so trust that a bitch is tired as hell and cranky with it.

Anyhoo…shall we?

I’m catching up on the news and noticed this bit about a certain John Huntsman of the I’m Running for the GOP nomination and one day people may realize that shit Huntsmans and…well, wow.

I can only conclude that a man declaring that he believes in evolution and trusts scientists in 2011 making news is the very definition of a motherfucking shame.

Huntsman’s tweet has been quite the newsmaker.

He sent out the following…

“To be clear. I believe in evolution and trust scientists on global warming. Call me crazy.”

And you would have thought it was 1633 and this was the trial of Galileo Galilei.

The press erupted.

Huntsman’s GOP competitors seemed bewitched, bothered, and bewildered.

And this bitch can’t help but wonder what the fuck the rest of the world thinks of a nation that has a major political party struggling to wrap their anti-knowledge minds around the fact that someone can identify as a Republican and believe in evolution and be religious and trust science.

Really.

I’m mean…really.

Pause…sip coffee…continue.

At this rate, someone running for President of the United States will acknowledge Newton's theory of gravitation…

…by 2016.

The tax increase we all need to be talking about…

Shall we?

The GOP went to war…trenched in…got all wild eyed and shit over the thought of ending Bush era tax breaks for the wealthy.

They went on and on about how making the wealthy pay their fair share of taxes would ruin the world and trigger a huge calamity the likes of which we’ve never seen before.

We watched as they demonstrated just how serious they were about NOT ending tax breaks for the wealthy…over and over again.

Now, as the dust continues to settle from their over-the-top debt ceiling fubarity, that same GOP is preparing to increase our taxes.

Mmmhmm...the GOP wants to block an extension of a tax break of payroll taxes.

Pause…sip water ‘cause I need to hydrate…continue.

Yes.

For real.

Way!

The same GOP that showed their natural ass over ending tax breaks for the rich by making a not so convincing case that ending those breaks would stall job creation…cough…is now prepared to end a tax break that is sure to hit workers where it hurts.

This isn’t complex.

The tax break in question impacts workers.

The GOP says that all tax relief isn’t created equal (clever...not).

Millions of Americans pay more in payroll taxes than federal income taxes.

And the GOP ain’t even trying to be subtle about this shit.

Behold Congress as it prepares to tread all over our asses…

…and there ain’t a tea adoring protest rally in sight.

My people call this bullshit.

Blink.

Data training August 21 through August 27…

Hi y’all!

I’ll be knee deep in advanced data training this week, so posting will be sporadic…unless all this brain usage inspires me and then posting will be frequent as hell.

Bring forth the spreadsheets...

...I ain’t scared!

Update from a Person Centered Plan meeting…

Hi y’all!

Longtime readers know that my sister and I are co-guardians of our older brother. Bill is enrolled in a residential program for adults with autism. Each year representatives from the various agencies involved in my brother’s life meet with us to review and revise Bill’s Person Centered Plan (PCP). 

Over the years there have been some good meetings and several PCP meetings that should be in the Meetings From Hell Hall of Shame.

I’ve learned to prepare myself for drama…budget cuts bleed and they always seem to impact people like my older brother first.

And I’ve learned to celebrate the victories…last year we were finally able to move Bill to a house closer to where we live and it has been a fantabulous change.

Anyhoo, yesterday’s meeting was a mix of the good and the bad.

Bill is in an amazing day program through the agency that runs his residential program. He participates in morning classes that focus on expanding his ASL vocabulary and strengthening social skills in the community. In the afternoon he gets to go out into the community…something he loves to do…and volunteer at a local shelter or non-profit.

I was thrilled to hear that he is doing well in the program. Staff is getting to know him and he’s benefiting from new techniques to deal with over-excitement (reports are that he’s fired up and ready to go every day!) and that renewed focus on his ASL vocabulary (you’re never too old to learn new stuff).

The bad news is that a key staff member is leaving Bill’s residential team.

Staff turnover is a constant challenge. Low pay, long hours, and the stress of taking care of people take a toll on staff. And programs face pressure when staff leave. It takes time to train people, build relationships with guardians and residents, and get a communication plan in place. 

Now, unless something changes, we’re starting over again.

Ugh.

Such is the way of PCP meetings…there is the good, the bad, and if we’re lucky we walk away without having to deal with anything ugly.

Blink.

Bits of note from an interview with Donald Trump...

I woke up this morning and caught the beginning of Good Morning America.

I know, GMA is the sorta-news and watching them almost report on shit is probably bad for my blood pressure. But it isn’t enough to know what kind of junk food the masses consume…gotta take a taste every now and then to understand the appeal.

Anyhoo, George Stephanopoulos interviewed Donald Trump.

It was, according to George, an exclusive interview…and I doubt him not because I’m still trying to figure out why the hell George bothered to sit down with Trump’s has-been ass his damned self.

Trump was in Trumpish form – lots of declarative sentences, bravado, and that undercurrent of desperate machismo he uses to cover up all manner of insecurities.

George let Trump go on and on about blah, blah and blah regarding his take on the current field of GOP candidates and electability of a 3^rd party candidate.

At the end of the interview George asked Trump about his obsession over President Obama’s birth certificate. Trump, being insecure as hell and thus incapable of admitting even inarguable fuck ups and thus the last motherfucker you want to elect to any office much less President of the United States, doubled down on his inarguable fuck up by saying that he’s still not sure what the President produced when the President produced his long form birth certificate.

That shit is likely to be the headline of this bizarre interview…that Trump still doubts whether the President was born in the United States.

I, however, focused on two other bits of note.

Pause…sip coffee…continue.

Bit of note #1…

Trump was going on about how “impressive” Gov. Perry of Texas is and how he’s got a great head of hair. 

Okay, he didn’t comment on Perry’s hair…but he wanted to.

George asked him about Perry’s job creation and questioned whether that’s something to boast about when the bulk of those jobs are low-paying as hell and thus not able to support the one man + one woman + two kids + chocolate lab fantasy of a traditional American family conservatives keep serving up as their base.

Trump, without pause, said…

“I think at this point America would accept anything.”

Pause…allow to marinate…continue.

Mmmhmm, now that shit needs to be a headline…put it on Perry’s bus…make it a billboard campaign, y’all!

Because you know and I know that you know and I know that Trump is spot on with that statement and “this point” is the precise point where many fools want us to remain.

Willing to accept anything.

Desperate for whatever crumbs they’ll leave on the table.

So far away from a living wage that we don’t even know what the hell that is anymore.

Cough.

Bit of note #2…

When George pushed Trump about whether the rich should pay their fair share in taxes instead of the teeny tiny percent they currently pay, Trump said he’s willing but most rich as hell people are not.

They then engaged in a “well, that’s not very patriotic” off…during which Trump admitted that not paying your fair share in taxes isn’t patriotic and followed with a declaration that most rich as hell people aren’t patriotic and would high tail it to Switzerland if they were required to pay their fair share in taxes.

That brings me back to what will likely be the headline from this interview…Trumps obsession with Obama’s birth certificate.

Tis fascinating that those who adore tea obsess over whether Obama is a natural born American citizen even though he’s proven more than I’ve ever had to prove that he is indeed a natural born American citizen.

Not fascinating because they continue to chew at a bone that they’ve chewed to death…

…but certainly fascinating cause tea adorers attack one man about his birth certificate while they protect and defend thousands of Americans who are so unpatriotic they gleefully screw we the people out of billions in tax revenue and would be on the first boat outta here if we dared to call them on that shit.

It’s one thing to be hoodwinked and bamboozled…

…but damn it to hell if these fools aren’t hoodwinking and bamboozling their own damned selves.

Blink.

Thoughts after attending my family reunion...

C-Money and I just returned from our family reunion in Allentown, PA. My mother’s family, sans my mother, gathered at the home of one of my Aunts for barbeque, games, and some serious catching up.

Longtime readers know that I am estranged from my mother. We haven’t spoken for years. My mother is also estranged from her family and as I traveled to Pennsylvania I worried that her absence would loom over the reunion. My worries turned out to be all for naught. A couple of family members inquired about my mother. I explained that we have not been in contact and why. They understood, having encountered her rage when they tried to contact her themselves. For the most part everyone took the opportunity to be together rather than fret over those who weren’t in attendance.

But it’s impossible to be around my aunts without thinking of my mother. They all look alike…have the same mannerisms and expressions…and I see a lot of her reflected in them.

So, this reunion was somewhat bittersweet.

I saw what might have been…how my mother could be, but for her anger and verbal abuse of others.

And I was reminded that I can’t live her life…I can’t fix what’s wrong…I can only be me.

Sigh.

I listened to a thousand stories this weekend…had fantabulous chats and debates with my cousins, who are truly amazing people doing amazing things. I got up to speed on my aunts’ lives and quickly realized that they are living happy and challenging lives. I met my cousins’ children…again…they are growing up so fast! 

On the flight back home I found myself reflecting on our family. My maternal Grandmother was our matriarch and a force of nature…glamorous, feisty, quirky, difficult, loving, and ambitious. Her life spanned a history of radical change in America…from the Great Depression to WWII to the Civil Rights Movement and beyond.

My Grandmother valued education, hard work, and family.

She passed away years ago but her legacy lives on.

Many thanks to everyone who worked so hard to pull this amazing reunion together!

A hustle is a hustle...

Happy Friday, y’all!

I’m currently pondering a news report about a judge who has been sentenced to 28 years in jail for his role in a scheme to sentence youth to for-profit detention centers in exchange for kickbacks.

Mark Ciavarella, a former Pennsylvania juvenile court judge, shipped thousands of kids to juvenile detention centers…at least one of the victims committed suicide.

The seriousness of this case warrants investigations into all for-profit detention centers…because there are way too many flies for just one pile of shit.

As I pondered this case and the harm inflicted upon thousands of youth by a corrupt criminal justice system, I had a nagging feeling that this hustle sounds a lot like another hustle I recently read about.

South Dakota passed a law that, among other heinous things, mandates that women seeking abortions receive counseling from crisis pregnancy centers.  Lots of folks have written about the deceptive practices and overt religious nature of crisis pregnancy centers (CPCs).

CPCs receive millions of taxpayer funding.

CPCs are largely unregulated…

…and they are one of the most brilliant hustles I’ve ever seen.

Tis a hustle sure to make the former juvenile court judge drool - little to no oversight…millions in taxpayer funding with no discussion of measurable outcomes…and now a legislative test that, should it survive court challenges, will likely spread the legislative hustle of  mandatory counseling through CPC to other states.

Pause…sip coffee…continue.

The former juvenile court judge who served up kids to for-profit detention centers had to work his vile hustle in the shadows.

CPCs get legislators to do the hard work in the light of day.

But a hustle is a hustle is a hustle, my friends.

Oh and just look at all those flies!

Blink.