Chinese (Dominican/Puerto Rican) Experiment

It's sad but true - we've been single since before FaceBook. And since FB has been the medium of choice for starting, complicating and announce the end of relationships - Jaded and I have embarked on a journey .... we're officially in a FB relationship. And this is what we've learned so far:

• You can't just be in a relationship with just anybody. They have to actually confirm that they know you. FB said I had a "relationship request." When I clicked it, it asked: Would you like to confirm your relationship with Raquel? I confirmed, although we both wonder what would happen if I ignored the request. (But that wouldn't facilitate this CDPR Experiment)

I suppose this is kind of like real life, in that you do kinda have to ask someone to be your girlfriend or boyfriend - I mean, you at least have to have the discussion ... I'm glad to see that hasn't changed. Like, in my day - you asked someone to dance ... and nowadays, you simply have to see someone dancing and that apparently means you can bump your dick against his/her ass and sway in time. But FB confirms that the idea of having to ask someone to be in a relationship with you is still alive today. That's good to know.

• The people that know us well are completely baffled by our announcement in FB. Others who know us both are reluctantly (and ingenuously) thanking God we're off the market. (Dumb asses)

Apparently, it's still commonplace for people to be plastic and smile all up in your face(book) about shit ... I really wish that weren't true, but alas - it is. OH! And dumbasses still exist - but we already knew that.

Next on our list is to figure out what happens when you try to be in multiple relationships at the same time. I'll give the details in my next post - but first I have to find someone who is willing to let me try to "Relationship" them on FB without it being weird or anything.

ta ta for now

Interesting Things

I had to write down three things I like about myself because Jaded's blog said to - and I realized that I really like my gray hair. I really do. It's been there for a while and I am quite attached to it. *grin*

I got an email out of the blue at work from an old college friend. She and I were mad tight back in the day - she didn't make it, leaving after Sophomore year, and I went on to graduate. We lost touch, after trying half-heartedly not to, and now she's emailed me. We're planning on chatting tomorrow. Should be a good time catching up.

Watched "Cloudy with a chance of meatballs" with the kids tonight - it was cute, but I didn't really like it all that much. However, there's this Black cop in the movie whose dad tells him he love him and the kid says, "Dad, you tell me you love me ALL the time!" as excitedly as he can. My kids, almost simultaneously, say to me - you do, too daddy! That made my night.

I've lost 4 pounds this week. Went to the gym 5 times in 7 days, and have been watching what I eat, cutting out all that late night snacking crap. A good friend motivated me and I think it's sticking this time. (And when I say motivated, I mean he worked me out two days in a row and it hurt to move for the whole fucking week)

My daughter forgot her homework at school - and I realized that I needed to have her mother call other parents and find out what the homework was. It's a big project to do internet research and I don't live in their school district and don't know any of the other parents. Anyway, the child was mortified at having to tell her mom that she left her folder at school because "mom doesn't like it when I leave my homework at school."

It was all good until she asked me to wait and not tell mom until we saw if the teacher responded to the email I sent. At that point, the dynamic changed - I told her that mommy and daddy don't keep secrets and that we had to really talk about what was the right thing to do. 35 minutes and lots of tears later - she calls her mom and tells her. It all worked out ok - and baby girl ended up telling me "I feel better"

Why one of my friends was over here with her 3 year old and left him with me while she ran home for a bit ... and that was 3+ hours ago?!? She just called and said she's on her way. I guess I should go into the other room now. I just needed some adult time - it's been me and three kids for THREE HOURS! lol

Letters to Imaginary People

Dear Mother Nature:

I'm really tired of your ass fucking shit up. Hurricanes, Monsoons, Earthquakes, Tsunamis ... seriously, what's up your craw? The Tsunamis taking out hundreds of thousands - that wasn't cute. But I'll give you points for originality. This thing in Haiti? Now you're just being a bitch. I'm going to need you to get your shit together, lay back on some leather couch and talk out your issues. Some Zoloft may be in order. Or Lithium ... but I'm no medical professional. I just know that you might just need a break.

So, fucking take one ... NOW.

-JACK





Dear Old Man Winter:

I'm going to need you to stroke out already. I walked 6 blocks to the train this morning with snow pelting my face, pulling behind me my roller bag ... and those fucking things don't do well in the snow. So, you had me out in the middle of the street with these dumb ass mother fuckers who can't drive on snowy pavement. And then like three feet of snow on the east coast? Seriously, you're done. Take your old ass a real long dirt nap. Maybe mother nature will no longer feel the need to compete with your ass and she can calm the fuck down too.

-JACK




Miss Tooth Fairy:

Look, Bitch - you are NOT allowed to adjust for inflation. Your ass ain't real, dammit! How the fuck a tooth worth dollars now? What happened to quarters?

I'm blaming your ass for all the dental problems in the ghetto. I mean, at $5 dollars a pop - do you know how much coke a mouth full of teeth can buy? Why in the hell would anyone want to have any when they can have dope instead?

You need to readjust this shit ... parents everywhere are just WAITIN on your ass to show up one night for real. Gon' have your wings framed and mounted, watch.

-JACK




Dear Santa:

I'm a set your ass on fire next time you come down my chimney. Do you know how many parents have had to file chapter 11 cuz of your dumb ass? I swear to GOD you're the worst of the bunch. And that stupid laugh of yours - makes me want to pop you right in the mouth. Holding your belly while you mock us as we march on down with all our paperwork to Bernstein, Weinberger, Feingold & Markowitz. I'm putting a hit on you, that's it.

WANTED: FAT, JOLLY WHITE MAN WITH A BEARD WEARING A RED SUIT AND CARRYING A GINORMOUS BAG OF PRESENTS. LAST SEEN HOLDING HIS MIDSECTION AND LAUGHING AT ME FOR HOW MUCH I SPEND ON CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY. DEAD, OR ALIVE.

-JACK




Dear Father Time:


How does your feet-shuffling, tooth-missing, ben-gay using old ass have shit moving so fast? Slow this shit down - I'm in no mother fucking hurry back to ashes and dust, ok? Fuckin 2010 already and I haven't even been to Venice! (It's on my bucket list) Next time I see you, my friends and I are going to abduct you and admit you to Shady Pines. Your ass needs a break, and some people your age to play bridge with. And if you put up a fight, just keep in mind that I'll be carrying two rolls of quarters stuffed in a sock.

-JACK

On a serious note ...

I don't feel like finding pictures and shit right now - so, consider this the Catcher in the Rye version of JGC.

24 Days
I have not had a cigarette in 24 days. I'm fucking amazed at myself. I started smoking some 15 years ago and although I had this notion in my head that I could not smoke forever, and knew that I had to eventually quit ... I didn't actually think I was going to. But, I did.

It's an interesting thing to find new triggers that I didn't realize were triggers. I got into the car to drive to Indianapolis and I started to pay my pocket to make sure I had my cigarettes - and I stopped myself. I really wanted a cigarette? Why? Because they characterized every road trip I've ever taken. Yet, now I drive and don't smoke. And I don't get road rage either! Bonus.

To crush or not to crush ... that is the question
Admittedly, I've been crushing on this boy and I'm just totally tired of it. It's kinda of a knack of mine, though, to want what is not available to me ... at one time it was DL men, at another time it was married men, and now gay men in relationships. It's funny that I've gone through it so much that I can just shoo it away like an annoying, buzzing fly.

That didn't used to be the case - those who have known me the longest can attest to the fact that JACK has been known to hold on to some nonsense ... like that gay dude who lived 700 miles away who I met online and I longed for for three years ... having never met him. Yuh - that was a str8 mess. (so to speak)

But I don't have years anymore. I don't think I even have months in me anymore. I'm fucking great - because if I don't think so, who the hell will?!?! - and I really need to do better by me. And so - NOT to crush, it is.

300
That's how many posts JGC is approaching. JGC is definitely the longest relationship I've had. Unless you count the 7 years I spent with the ex-wife. But she's a girl - so I don't count her.

Anyway - I've got to do something big for post 300, I think. I don't know what it is, though. No idea at all. I don't have much time, though ... maybe I'll just squat on it (again, so to speak).

Any ideas?

Deep Fried Awesome

Remember that blogger I met? That fool done stuffed his face with the only heart attack on a plate: the deep fried Twinkie. Three of them. He doesn't know it, but while he ate, I was totally texting my peeps, "there're deep fried twinkies on the table!"

So, JADED and I got to texting about how good those shits must be. And then we coined our new phrase. Deep Fried Awesome.

Yes, yes - it is to be used to describe the creme de la creme (How the hell you use accent marks on this bitch?!?) and you can really use it to describe anything. At present, it's exclusive use references my friendship with Jaded ... our wit ... our penchant for making ANYTHING funny.

You know, if we had the wherewithal to actually make a move on any of the deep fried awesome ideas we've had for starting a business ... we'd be some deep fried awesomely rich.

Of course, she's way ahead of the game, having opened The Jaded Bodega.

bitch.

Pay her store a visit - it's oodles of fun.

(and tell that bitch I sent you so she knows I'm being a good pal)

Feel free to comment on what YOUR deep fried awesome is. (Seriously, do it - anything goes)

Hello the 2010s!

January 1, 2010 - 7am. My son throws up in my bed. (Yuh - that's about right.)

10am. Sister-in-law calls and wants to bring her kid over.

11am. At pancake house with sister-in-law, her kid and my kids. The kids are all happy to be together. The sheets are in the washer at home.

2pm. Sister-in-law says she needs to go cuz her friend is going to help her take her hair out. (micro braids) "Unless YOU want to help me," she says. (Yuh - that's about right, too)

"I'll see you next time," I respond.

3pm. Kids are whining like crazy - I send them to bed for a nap.

5pm. Heating up pizza for dinner. Kids happy about it.

8pm. Get the sheets out of the dryer and make bed. Daughter's bath runs out of hot water. (That's about right, yet again)

10pm. Kids asleep. Another day finished.

midnight - exactly what the hell did I do with the last two hours again?!? NO. FUCKING. IDEA.

Jaded's Duffel Bag

In this post, Jaded listed all the things that needed to get done in the event of her death, before her momma got to her apartment to go through her things. She wrote:

In my closet, behind all the handbags that I never use, there's a Nike duffel bag. Burn this as well. Without opening it. Trust me when I say you DON'T want to know what is in this bag.

Ah, yes - the infamous Nike duffel bag. I know this bag. I know its contents. And in perezhilton-gossip fashion, I shall detail the contents of said bag:

The knife, in a zip lock bag
In high school, jaded and I met and quickly hit it off. We were the laurel and hardy of that high school ... although, I do admit that no one knew we were as funny as we are. They were all some stuffed shirts in that nerdy specialized high school. But there was this one Jewish kid, who shall remain nameless, that entered our lives ... and he just had to go. She hid the stained weapon in the closet, in the duffel bag. You mustn't tell.

A Hand Puppet
She calls him A-ROD, mainly because there's no way she's dragging a MET's name through the mud. And there's A-ROD, stuffed in the bag ... silent. Completely and totally silent. He just lays in wait ... hanging on her every word. Like an obedient pup, well trained ... and quiet.

Masculinity, in a jar
How his new wife puts up with the remnants, post-emasculation, is beyond me. But you MUST destroy that jar before her momma finds it. Like she said - don't OPEN the bag. But if you hear or feel broken glass, you're screwed.

Elevator key, on a key ring that says "yayayayayya"
Don't ask. It's better you don't know. But suffice it to say that the FDNY is not the only one who can stall elevators with the turn of a key. Sure, some Muslim somewhere is jobless because he lost the key ... but since when have you known jaded to discriminate? All races, creeds and religions are fair game.

Father x's white collar
Yes - she probably bagged a priest. I'm not sure though. But she's got the collar. And she won't have anyone asking any questions.

Voodoo doll
This one is quite mysterious. It's labeled BITCH. Even when she's dead, she doesn't want you trying to guess who it is. It's riddled with push pins and sewing needles.

The cardboard shoebox
It's got these little air holes in it. Along the bottom the following words: His Self Esteem. She figures it should breathe, even if it's stale air sullied by the stale sweat from the neck of a priest mixed with the grease from an elevator operator's pocket. He's used to such confined spaces anyway.

An old plug-in vibrator, cord cut
Rumor has it she entered the room and cut the cord near the outlet. Til this day no one knows who was at the other end. Her penchant for keeping mementos can be quite disturbing.

... and some old gym socks.

JACK'S HOLIDAY WISH

Which one would you like this Christmas?
Start in the back row, left to right: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
and then the front row, left to right: 7, 8

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, BLOG FAMILY!!!

Home

This is pretty:



This is choppy:



And then there's the 11-year old Jazmine Sullivan:



And with that, the 11-year old done kicked them both in the teeth.

If ...

... I could hire a bouncer to beat the fuck out someone, I'd pay the money to have said bouncer go get at balloon boy's dad. Did you see this kid blow chunks all over national TV because he was under all sorts of stress. He's a fucking kid! And YOUR kid, you punk ass bitch. And you told him to hide because you were doing it for some show?!? Out of the mouth of babes, boo.




... I could fire any one person at the office, I'd have a hard time picking. But then again, maybe not. Me. I'd pick me. Why save someone ELSE?

... I could choose one food and make it totally NOT fattening, it'd be bagels. I love bagels. Sesame Seed bagels. I want one. Right now. Actually, can I say all breads in general? mmmmmmm carbs.

... I could take on my son's asthma so he didn't have to deal with it, I'd do it yesterday. This is a big one. It's controlled right now, but he still deals with it and I hate it that he has to take all those meds all the time.

... I could bring back someone who is deceased, I'd have trouble deciding. Seriously, I'm not sure. That's a toughie ... do I go for people I'm closest to, or people who were younger? Or do I say fuck it all and bring Luther back?

... I could sate all my curiosities, I'd definitely have to put on the list "interviewing the couple referenced in the video below," and "meeting the person who commented on the video and said:

Dildo on the end of a reciprocating saw is nothing new. Injuries are probably the result of improper construction or improper safety precautions. Done correctly fun can be had by all. Just remember to wear you safety goggles!



(oh, and meeting this kid - he's funny. Not as funny as if Jaded and I were the ones reporting ... but, he's got TONS of potential)

Soup to nuts

Life's been a bit hectic as of late - I attribute it to the universe's attack on my endeavor to lose weight. Damn devil. But, yeah - so work has been crazy: CA-RAY-ZEE, ok? This week in particular was busy - my son's birthday, a drive to chicago, three 9+ hour days, a 4 hour day and a drive back to indianapolis ... blah blah blah.

You know how you could handle work if you had one project to do and only one project and that you wouldn't have to deal with another project until this first project is done? How, you wish you could have both kids in sports and they could somehow NOT have their fucking games at the same time? Life never loads evenly ... EVER.




Life is like some Chicago alley dumpster. That's really what I'm trying to say.



A few weeks ago, I packed my bag to go to Chicago. I was in a black/grey mood - so I didn't pack any khaki's, just black dress slacks. All my socks: black. All my draws: black. And my roommate's cat?

WHITE

And this little mother fucker will attack you and literally BITE you ... cuz he's playing. Bitch is still a kitten. Mother fucker bit me pretty good the other day and I find out ... short-haired house cats slide pretty far on hardwood. No, seriously, they do!









But the cat needs some serious home training. I'm about to just tell my roommate that his cat is about to get hisself a lesson. The other day, he was on the dining room table ... roommie asked me to get him down. So, I grabbed a water bottle and sprayed him.

ROOMMATE: That's spray cleaner

ME: oh. well, he's wet now.

You might think I'm being hard on the cat. But I'm not - I'm SOOOO not. Wanna know why?

Because this is my papasan chair.

I mean, look at him. The little bastard all ON my footstool and turns his back to me. He really doesn't give a fuck that there's white cat hair all over the cushion - doesn't care. I'm about to line the footstool padding with double sided masking tape ... When I do - I'll let you know how it goes.

Suddenly, I Want Him

My Perfect Mate

You: light skinned or darker, 5'9" or taller, HPTW or within range, 7" or longer (but, Dear God, not MUCH), Associates or better, 24 or older, 40 or younger, swagger or some semblance thereof.

You've got a pair of Tims and at least one suit jacket; Neither collects dust, and you can tie a tie. (Any knot will do)



Orange is orange, no matter the shade, and you never EVER call it tangerine ... or pumpkin.




You can dance - but you don't always throw down some cardboard everytime you hear 'your' song.



You can have mannerisms at times, viturally undetectable, but your purse NEVER falls out no matter how much you run your mouth.



SOME people know; not that it's any of their business, but they're your support system. You might wear a scarf if it's cold, but you don't own a boa. The only feathers you own are in that old triple fat goose no one knows why you still own. But you own it - fuck em. It fits.




You talk a good game, but you listen intently too. You can have a drink, or two or eight - but never need to crawl home or be dragged around by your arms. You speak your mind, but think before you do so ... and never use 'I'm just being honest' as an excuse to be rude and inappropriate. (Unless it's warranted - but then you don't need an excuse). You know that 'conversate' isn't a word and that 'literally' means, uh ... LITERALLY. (Seriously, your head was not 'literally' spinning around ... I don't care how crazy that mfer was driving you).




You know there's a God and give him his props ... but don't let church or denominational doctrine affect your direct link to Him.



You own a belt. You use said belt. Around your waist.



If I measure your waist ... your pants are somewhat close to that size. I'm the only one who sees your underwear - but you don't expect me to always have to be the one to wash them. I mean, I *will* ... but you manage to master the coalescence of detergent, water and washing machine.



(If you already didn't know what it meant, you're looking up the word "coalescence")

You're handy around the house and if the gutters are full of crud you don't scream like a bitch when we reach into them to clean 'em. And ... I cannot stress this enough ... You have your friends, and I have mine. You like my company but don't need to be 3 and a half inches from my face all day. Because, baby ... I'm a need some space too. Thanks.

For the Conscientious Traveler

THIS is a SARS mask

If you are traveling in an airplane in the coming weeks, please be sure to use the new, improved Swine Flu mask, pictured here:

Open Windows

As I looked at my computer screen, I realized something. I had several windows open and I squnited at them, realizing that it was a good snapshot of me. I encourage you to do the same exercise, list the windows currently open on your screen and comment in this fashion:

Open windows, in order from left to right: gay network for black men, interface for my research course, blogger, work email via outlook Web access, blank word document

Commentary: It seems that my priority is dating gay Black men. Following that, I feel passionately about my MS degree, and will apparently blog before I respond to work emails.

I'm so fucking mad right now that this is pretty accurate. DAMMIT!

Why she gotta be Black tho

Survey SAYS ....

I understand the importance of surveys - I really do. In the form of course evaluations, they serve me well in my line of work. And I know that the marketing people of the world just salivate at the thought of a 60+% return rate and all that raw data.

But don't ask me stupid shit, please. More importantly, don't ask me A LOT. I mean, I try to be sensitive to the fact that survey return rates are low and I try to be helpful when I can be ...

... but I just got a fucking survey from the CDC. Now, don't get me wrong - The Center for Disease Control is important as fuck. But a 15-page 141-question survey? Are you fucking kidding me? SERIOUSLY?!?!

I swear the CDC is trying to give me angina. Who was the marketing expert over there who said, "oh, 141 questions - that's PERFECT!" That bitch. I want to meet THAT bitch because I have some choice words akin to:

Look, numb nuts ... people out here are working for a living too. Yes, I know you poured your soul into creating that survey, but you need to step outside yourself for a minute or two. A ONE FUCKING HUNDRED FORTY-ONE question survey? Do you know how daunting that appears to the survey respondent? Do you know how those 15-pages yell at us, in almost an audible voice, "beaurocrats, red tape, dumb asses!" Do you know?

So, if any of you out there are creating surveys - keep it simple, keep it cute, and in the words of bon qui qui: don't get crazy.

Traveling Gays

I considered my life as a professional, traveling man ... and thought about this club I went to in Orlando. With my favorite boo boo in the whole world.

(heeeeyyyyyy boo boo!)

Anyway, I met a man there, let's call him Jacob (because that's his name). He's from Tampa. I'm in town from Chicago. And we talked for a while ... and when i asked him what he does (he asked first, so I figured it was fair game) he told me he was a house husband.

Without batting a lash, I told him that that was pretty cool. Although, sitting there and about two and a half sheets to the wind, I knew (as surely as I know that gravity exists) that this mother fucker ain't no trophy husband. He's not body beautiful and even if he isn't butt fuckin ugly, he's no perfect 10. I can tell this even IF my motor skills are skillfully impaired. But I understand the game he's playin ... that is, he's playing a game, not that he's GOT game. You feel me?

Jacob told me that he was magnum. So, as a verfication exercise, I felt him up.

He's not.

We continue to talk there at the bar ... and some other dude, who we called red hat, mentions to the bartender that he's straight. I interrupt because I had my eye on Red Hat all night and I just had to verify this piece of information. He said he was indeed straight and his friend (who so damn obviously sweet we call Sucralose) verifies this ... I pull Red hat closer to me and tell him "Damn Shame."

Oh, right - Jacob. So, we keep chatting and he attacks my Puerto Ricanness because I'm smoking Marlboro Mediums. I'm so damn mad - and then he comes out with his Marlboro Lights Menthol. I wanted to drag his ass so damn bad.

Oh, did I mention the dyke who told me I was hot, started humping me while I sat on the bar stool and eventually threw my knees over her shoulders? And when boo boo came to the rescue, I ran away tot eh other side of the bar and apparently, she climbed him like boo boo was a totem pole and boo boo lost both his earrings.

****

Oh, the last time I was in this city and in this club (again, with boo boo ... heeeeeyyyy) I met a brotha from Alabama. I felt him up too - but he told me I made him hard and that I could verify. And, you know how Reagan taught my generation to trust ... but verify ... so, I blame Reagan. This dude asked me to go with him out into the parking lot.

In the middle of Tropical Storm Faye.

Obviously I didn't go outside into the fucking storm with him ... and when I left, I saw him in the parking lot with some idiot who apparently took him up on the offer.

****

As I'm considering these experiences, and the fact that I been gay clubbin in DC with 143, New York City with Jaded ...

It occured to me.

I'm unknowlingly a part of this underground network I call Homos Without Boarders.

• We know no city or state boundary
• We'll grab a dick in a minute
• We typically lie (about our being house husbands, even)
• We go to clubs all over the place, but rarely dance. Dancing is for the locals.
• We beeline for the hottest mother fucker we see ... and work our way down the list until something sticks. (explaining why I'm talking to the wanna be house husband and not to Red Hat)

Feel free to add to this list - my creativity well ran dry after I laughed my ass off at Homos Without Boarders.

Carry on ...

MISS YOU MUCH

People I really miss:


Luther Vandross

Everytime any song of his comes on the radio, I get sad. I remember the day we lost him, I texted my cousin about it because there never has been a greater Lutha fan that her - and she thought I was kidding. I wasn't. A thousand kisses to you, Lutha.


Michael Jackson (the Black one)

I mean, what the fuck is wrong with him. I've decided that Billy Jean was his lover. Butterflies was a good song and all, but it's just not the same for me. I won't give not one red cent to him by buying a CD or downloading a song. It's just principle, I guess. But I do miss it when he was black.

Bernie Mac

I just don't understand how a 50 year old man dies of pnemonia in Chicago. I'm convinced the doctors treated him like he was just a 'nigger' and who gives a fuck. I mean, it's not like he was in some small Haitian town where the witch doctor is all you have ... I seriously don't get it. But I loved him in the Oceans movies and few comedians could make me laugh like he did.

143

We don't see each other enough for my taste. I blame THE MAN. Stupid job won't let me take vacation until I've been there six months. Fine, I'll play by the rules. But we DO need to see each other ... and soon. We need to figure out how to make it just me and you so we can just run away for a night and disappear, do our own thing. No kids, no significant others .. just us. 143!

Heath Ledger

I'm not going to lie - I had no idea who this mother fucker was until Brokeback Mountain. It was a great movie, though. I do recommend the book, however. Interestingly enough, it's a short story and I read it in 45 minutes on a flight. I sat there in my seat and cried - something about that read got to me, even if it was short. But as The Joker! omg - I can't help but feel that he was on his way to FIYAH after that.SMH

Eddie Murphy, ala SNL

Dont' get me wrong, his stand up routine (Delirious) was fucking HYSTERICAL (my favorite was his aunt falling down the stairs. MY SHOE!) ... but I really liked those SNL days when he was on it. His parodies of Buckwheat, Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, James Brown ... there really is nothing like it anymore. As in SNL ain't got nothin on those days and neither does Eddie Murphy.



(I'm scheduling this post for several days from now while I figure out who else to put on this list. If I miss it and it posts before I get back, feel free to add more in comment)

Is it time to repent?

Again, I don't usually post two in one day, but I felt compelled (again). Thanks to the National Hurricane Center for the above picture. I am convinced that some higher power is making our country pay for electing an administration riddled with pious, self-centered assholes committed to the Bush family's personal agenda. (I'm classy, using pious and assholes in the same sentence)

I was convinced a couple of years ago when those three hurricanes pummeled Florida in one month that it was Karma's way of fucking them up for not knowing how to vote (What was it Hurricanes Charlie, Jeanne and Wilma or some shit? I can't keep track anymore) in 2000, but now I'm convinced that Karma is forging a larger spread attack on the US as a whole to teach us not to spend all our damn money on a stupid, dumb ass war abroad when we could really use the money domestically, like in Louisianna because of Gustav, or in Florida, or South Carolina, or [insert coastal state here] ... or on repairing a broken education system, or on the homeless problem, or on a broken social security system, or hell, on potholes even! God help us if we can't get it right and reelect the republicans. Karma got more than hurricanes - tsunamis, earthquakes, tornadoes ... she's got a lot at her disposal and I may have to be the first Puerto Rican to flee the United States to seek refuge in Guadelajara.