Funeral Hell

Why do families need to lose their minds when someone dies? See, I'm not questioning the fact that it is so - because I don't know a funeral that didn't result in some drama - but I'm questioning why it has to be that way?

In my previous melancholic post about my cousin's passing, I detailed the depravity shown by someone who sets a gun to a man's temple while he holds his 6-month old. That's the fate my cousin found. It was truly sad.

So, the family goes into high gear trying to figure out how to get his remains back into the states, since he passed away in Mexico. And I swear to God, I was about to find some fence climber and just ask him to strap my cousin's corpse to his back and bring him on home ... that would have been easier. For real, for real - all jokes aside - that shit would have been easier.

So, long story short - after some considerable difficulty, my cousin gets her brother home.

[enter mother fuckers no one even knows claiming to be his kin and wanting to run shit]

Fucking Crazy.

But I would like to put one particular cousin on blast - the deceased's brother. We'll call him MFA, for mother fucking asshole.

MFA's one responsibility was to house the deceased's common-law wife and two kids. (That would be his own sister-in-law, neice and nephew) The kids are 5 and 6-months. The 6-month old being the one who witnessed the whole murder. Ok - so, why the fuck does this MFA show up to the funeral home with his sister-in-law, niece and nephew talking about he can't afford to keep them anymore and someone has to take them?

What!? Lemme tell you - transporting a body from Mexico to the USA is NOT cheap. Paying for a viewing ... is NOT cheap. Getting family in to NYC from all over the country (Chicago, Orlando, DC, NC, et. al) is NOT cheap. And all the fuck this nigga had to do was keep this woman for a few days.

Nope. It's noon. He's at the funeral with this bitch and her two kids talking about all he has is $60 to his name and he hasn't even fed these people! Homegirl is nursing the 6-month old and she hasn't eaten a thing.

[enter pissed off JACK]

I had to let him know that he's an asshole. I had to let him know that I didn't give a fuck about his dead brother at this point. Because my dead cousin wouldn't want us spending money to mourn over there at the funeral parlor while his wife and kids went without food and shelter.

I told him that if I were to die, I didn't want NAN-UH ONE UH DEM anywhere near my funeral - I'd prefer strangers deal with me and my kids and figure out what to do because this shit is crazy. Who the fuck does this?!?

He stuttered and shit and tried to explain that this and that that and that the other thing ... I had to shut him down again and again and again. I put the woman up in a hotel, we all made sure she got something to eat and for the next few days, MFA didn't say a word to me and I didn't even acknowledge his existence. Seriously, MFA is dead to me.

Oh, did I fail to mention that MFA threatened her with legal action if she didn't release the deceased's body to the family? Oh, yuh - he did that.

Oh, and that MFA threatened to fuck with her veteran's death benefits if she didn't release the deceased's body to the family? Riggghhhtttt ....

and then he gets her to the states and puts her out.

He's dead to me. For real, for real - I've got nothing to say to that man ever again. Simply unforgivable.

(and let me tell you - this is the very, very, VERY short version - I'll spare you all the sordid details ....)

-JACK

When Men Play God

A Mexican newspaper published this photo. Underneath the sheet? My cousin. May he rest in peace.

I've been really down this week. I didn't really know him, since he was about 16 when I was born and way out the house by the time I had my first memory of living with my aunt and uncle. But, yeah, his father and step-mother raised me and his siblings, with whom I was raised, are in mourning.

I'm kinda down over it, in a depressive mode even, but I can hardly say that I am experiencing anything near what my cousins are feeling. After all, they knew him. But I can't shake this sadness myself - and what I really want to do is be near my cousin in VA and just be there for her. It bothers me that I can't do that either.

What happened, you may be asking. And that's a good question. He was killed, execution style, outside of his daughter's school. His wife was inside dropping off their oldest. Their youngest? Another good question. Their infant was sitting on his lap.

I can't even begin to comprehend the depravity of man, that he would shoot another man while an infant sat in his lap. I mean, there was a time when kids were off limits and people respected that - no matter how "bad" they were. But seriously - to have a wife and mother come out of school to find her husband dead is bad enough ... but to find her infant in his lap covered in his blood? There's a special place in hell for these people.

And don't get me wrong - I'm not naive to the fact that my cousin was not running around town holding down a 9-5, reading to the blind and helping old ladies cross streets. Clearly, people don't get assassinated for attending sunday school in a predominantly Catholic nation. I get that ... I really do. And I know that there are many people out there on the errant side of the law, perhaps, or on the errant side of very bad people ....

But that doesn't mean that those people don't have families who love them. It doesn't mean that those people are necessarily bad people themselves, although I suppose it's possible. But my cousin was rekindling his relationship with his family - he was trying to come around ... having established contact with his siblings and all that, exchanging I love yous and everything.

I don't know all the specifics - but I know it's fucked up to shoot a mother fucker who's holding his own child. That shit hurts me. I'm not trying to make my cousin into some angel, ok? I don't know that he was. But I do know that people loved him - and those people are hurting and it's hurting me to know that they're hurting.

I've said in an earlier post, I believe it was in my Jennifer Hudson post, that the 'no snitching' rule should come with a clause that exempts the rule from applying when children are involved. If you fuck with children, the 'no snitching' rule is out. And in this situation ... the 'no snitching' rule should SO be out.

Yet, it's not. No one saw anything. No one can describe any of the assailants. No one says anything.

Except my second cousin who cried and cried and cried as her father's soul slipped into eternity. Right in front of her.

Que Dios me lo tenga en La Gloria

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

300 and Counting

I made it to 300 posts! Seriously, this is the longest relationship I've ever had. *kisses JACK on the forehead*

JGC will live on and will still bring you the crazy, the funny, the camera, the caption contests (I haven't done that in a while, huh ...), the gay parenting ... etc. etc. But I will no longer be a participant in the Date-A-Hoodlum program just for JACK's writing amusement. I'm so over it.



Maybe over the next 300 posts I'll find someone decent and actually have some semblance of a normal, healthy relationship ... instead of, you know, my telling JADED that it's been over 2 months since I've had sex and her responding, "OMG - are you ok?!?"

bitch.

But seriously, I feel more centered that I've felt in a long, long time. Even though work is crazy and I want a new job (and I'm searching actively!), even though I'm still always tired from the driving back and forth between Indy and Chicago, even though I'm under the weather a bit, over weight by more than I care to admit and am struggling with this 1800 calorie diet I can't seem to be consistent with ... I feel centered.

It's amazing how outlook and attitude really trumps circumstance - it's a fact that I've known for a very long time, but (whether for the Puerto Rican, Gay or Black-by-Injection in me I do not know) I know that I've made a conscious decision to be negative and have attitude and be critical ... and you know, what? I'm through. Eh - it's too easy to be critical. Let me challenge myself and try to see the good in things and the good in life and the good in people

(and I know that last one is going to be the toughest one because by-and-by, let's be honest, some people can be some kind of fucking rotten ... but the new JACK only says that parenthetically)

We'll see - the ultimate goal is to not just FEEL centered - but BE centered. Off I go ...

My Love Story

Recently, my daughter wrote on a note under the Christmas tree asking Santa "for my family to stop smoking." She went for it. before she wrote family, there's a scribbled out "da" ... She meant for DAD to stop smoking, but went all out and scratched it out in favor of family. But it was me.

There's a post-it note on my computer in her handwriting inside a heart she drew: mia + dad ... and another post-it: mia and dad sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g

She's the love of my life for real. My nickname for her is MyLoveStory and I've been calling her that for years. Today, she turns 8. And I don't care what anyone says, an 8-year old who loves her daddy and has NO idea what it means to like a boy or kiss a boy or date a boy ... that's what being an 8-year old is about. And, today I thank God for blessing me with the most perfect little 8-year old a man could ever have.



And although this Mariah song reminds me of her simply because of the title, there is one song that is forever OUR song. My song and my little girl's song. I remember when I told her it was our song and I would sing it to her while I drove. I still remember how when I sang to her and looked back at her and said "how my eyes fit in yours" and she sunk her chin into her shoulder and batted her little eyelashes at me. And yes, she will ALWAYS be my joy.



I'm certain we'll dance to this at her wedding - it's my intent. I'm sure we'll still be dancing like fools then ... like we have been for years ...

Happy birthday, my love story. I love you past the rocket ships.

Ethnic Cleansing

I'm ethnic - and I'm cleanin' house. I'm tired of the nonsense. It seems that every so often I find myself needing to take stock of the world around me and decide what I want around me and what I don't.

What I want around me

• Positive people who can make me laugh.
• People who are about their business.
• Energy that harmonizes with synergy.
• Alignment of actions with words.
• An empathetic heart and a sympathetic ear.
• Eyes that watch God.
• Talkers who listen and listeners who speak.
• Dwellers, but not brooders.

What I don't want around me

• Abusers of time, energy and substance
• A marked focus on the trivial
• Incessant spontaneity
• Fear
• Canoes adrift on reckless waters
• Self absorption

If you find me distant, unresponsive or apathetic - you need not ask me what category you fall into. I can't be bothered right now. I feel the vibration of transition, like an incessant strum on the string of a guitar ... and I need to focus on the good.

You can keep the bad and the ugly.

In a new direction

Hello fellow bloggers (and readers and stalkers and government censors, etc.)

So, there's this guy I know - let's call him Keith (cuz that's his name). We met I don't know when in 2009 and went on a date. He thought he was the most impressive thing ever. He wasn't. He really tried and tried and tried to impress me with all the people he knew in town and how many business owners he was cool with because he too was a business owner ... and I was just GAG over the whole thing. But I was in my for-the-sake-of-the-blog mode and I did end up sleeping with him. I was drunk as hell by the end of the night and I used that as an excuse. He's so not my type and I really just needed something to blog about and laugh over and all that.

But I'm so not there and haven't been for what seems like a long while. He was blowing up my phone today. Kept IM-ing me on my phone, then calling my phone and I just kept ignoring him. He called from another number and I picked up and DAMN if I wasn't mad at myself for picking up the phone. So, we get into this conversation about things, and I tell him where I stand.

I'm not really into the whole casual sex bit. I feel like there are so many things out of balance in my life and the last thing I need is to have that type of one-night-stand nonsense to add to it. I know myself to be the emotional creature that I am and I just don't want to deal with that empty feeling I know too well, the one that I get when I'm doing the walk of shame home ... or when the dude ups and leaves when we're done. My job is messy and I am looking for another, trying to take control of that situation, and this idea I have about really wanting sex to be within the confines of a relationship is about my wanting to take control back in THAT area of my life too.

I feel like I'm cleaning house - and anyway, so I tell him all of this and he talks about how he's not looking for a relationship. No shit, Sherlock - hence, my avoiding you! So, as I am explaining to him how I see things, he says, "so are there other guys besides me?"

[insert stunned silence here]

I recoup pretty fast. "Yes!" And then he goes into this spiel about my being the only one. Really? Am I supposed to believe that, really? The last time he and I did anything, it was still shorts and T-shirt weather ... and I'm to believe what, now? Spare me - I don't believe it.

But I really don't want to get into an argument about it ... so I let him talk about how he's very particular and blah blah blah. And about how great I am and how he feels we have great sex and have this connection and how I just accept him for him and how with me he's just Keith ... and not that professional, or that director, or that church minister .... or that whatever the hell else he listed.

Oh - yes ... church minister. You didn't misread that. But that's his issue - not mine. I don't give a fuck. I mean, if I'm to believe the church's doctrine as face value, as the church would have me believe it, it's bad enough he's another dude, let alone a minister - so whatever.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I don't feel any chemistry, the sex is fair to midland and I dont' find him attractive at all. I simply just listen and then tell him that we're just on different wave lengths.

I ponder all of this and I wonder if I'm just getting old, or wise or outgrowing things ... but what I do know is that this situation is a little bit sad. I don't like being in this situation, that I've created this type of thing ... that he saw fireworks when he closed his eyes and I just had my eyes closed. Kinda sucks ...

But I'm not SO mature that I'm not glad that I'm on this side of the imbalance. I fucking HATE being into someone who isn't so into me.

But, then - I'm in that situation too. *shrug* (another issue entirely)

At some point, I'm going to have to find someone I like who happens to also like me. Of course, that's everyone's goal ... but for me personally, I feel I need to stop having sex for sex's sake.

Check with me in 45 days time and let's see if I still feel the same way or if I've given in to carnality and climbed a nigga or three.

-JACK